➣ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟳 “𝘿𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝘽𝙮 𝘼 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘾𝙪𝙩𝙨”
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It was surprising to him how small the greenhouse actually was, but how big Professor Sprout made it feel for her class. Nicolás, Caelum, and Aurora walked around the different lines of students, collecting the large pots containing the growing Snargaluffs they had been working with—they levitated them all back to their respective place.
It had been an... interesting class, for lack of a better word. Fred and George had proved, yet once more, that they knew no limits when it came to wracking havoc. One moment, Nicolás had his eyes on them—as per Professor Sprout's request—and the moment he turned around to tell Caelum about the fertilizer, the twins managed to stress their Snargaluff out so badly, the plant ended up firing some of the small thorns that normally hid amidst its twisting vines.
Sadly for them, Kenneth Towler and Lee Jordan were the ones in the path of said thorns. Amara was quick to take them to the Hospital Wing as they grew purple spots on their arms and faces.
At the front of the room, Professor Sprout coughed to get their attention. Very quickly, the hushed chatter that had spread across the room in expectation for the bell to signal the end of class died out. Everyone's curious eyes turned to her.
“Now that the Tournament’s First Task has been completed, and the final month of the year has finally begun, it is my pleasure to announce to you all, that, on Christmas Day, our school will be hosting the Yule Ball, an integral tradition that has accompanied the Triwizard Tournament for years.”
Giggles from the girls were heard across the room alongside some groans from the boys. Once more, hushed conversations exploded across the students in the greenhouse.
“The ball will be open exclusively to fourth years and above, with the possibility of inviting a younger student if wished—though I would expect none of you to do such. Dress robes are mandatory for the event, and the ball will start at eight o'clock and finish at midnight, all in the Great Hall.
“Now, please, the Yule Ball, is, above all else, a ball, do try to enjoy yourselves during it!”
There was loud cheering at the professor’s words.
“However, I expect none of you to use this occasion to undermine the values of our school and embarrass it in front of our foreign guests. Socialize, make our guests feel welcome, and dance!”
Nicolás looked around to try and oversee his classmates' reaction, and, as their sounds, they were very mixed. Most of the girls looked rather excited—with little exceptions like Ruby, who looked more confused than anything else—, while the boys looked exasperated. Nicolás saw his cousin's face break into a large smile that looked more akin to a smirk.
Nicolás had never attended a ball before. When he was attending Castelobruxo, the school year typically started at the end of January and ended at the end of November. There was no such thing as a Yule Ball—students would typically have a special banquette and call it done. In his two years at Hogwarts, there had been no special Christmas celebration, so he could understand the girls' excitement, while also understanding the boys' lack of enthusiasm at the prospect of wearing constricting flamboyant clothes.
Once Professor Sprout’s small speech was done, and amidst cheering from the students, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. Everyone grabbed their things and moved towards the door.
“Cedric, dear, a word if you please,” Professor Sprout called out. Nicolás raised a brow at his boyfriend, but Cedric merely shrugged, just as confused, and walked back to talk with the professor.
“Come on, the girls and Dorian are waiting for us,” said Caelum, wrapping his arm around Nicolás’ shoulder and dragging him out of the greenhouse and into the afternoon sunlight.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
True to Caelum's word, by the time Caelum and Nicolás reached the Black Lake's shore, their friends were already there, all sitting or lying on large blankets. Even Ruby, Amara and Aurora — who came from their very Herbology class — had somehow managed to arrive before them. The only one missing was Lilith, who was supposed to be coming from her Transfigurations class.
Caelum meant to walk and sit next to Dorian, but for some reason changed at the very last moment, sitting next to a bewildered Ruby. Okay, those two had clearly not talked their issues over.
As Nicolás sat, Cedric arrived. He was red-faced, probably from running to meet them. There was something in the way he moved to sit that told Nicolás a lot was wrong.
First, he almost came to a halt when he saw him, which was weird, and then he forced himself to sit next to Nicolás. And Nicolás knew as such because there was a very clear intention in what had always been second nature movements in Cedric.
"What did Professor Sprout need to talk about?" said Nicolás as the others talked about the Yule Ball.
Cedric cringed, "Uhm, she was just telling me that—"
“Ugh,” Lilith groaned exasperated, cutting Cedric off. She dropped herself carelessly in the empty spot at Nicolás' left, her school bag discarded at her side. Everyone stopped laughing to look at her.
“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” asked Caelum.
“The stupid ball,” she said disgusted, looking far away.
“What’s wrong with the Yule Ball?” asked Willow with a chuckle.
“What’s wrong? It’s a frivolous event,” said Lilith. “And stupid boys keep asking me to it — like I’d ever be seen with any of them,” she rolled her eyes.
“Frivolous?” asked Nicolás with a laugh. “I don’t recall becoming the new Grinch as one of your New Year’s resolutions from last year.”
“The new who?” asked Dorian, who was doing his best to avoid looking in Caelum's direction.
“The Grinch,” Nicolás explained, “It’s an American creature featured in the book ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas!’; it’s basically someone who simply hates, with his entire being, the Christmas season.”
“Ah, very fitting for Lilith I’d say, then,” Dorian agreed.
“Shut up, Dorian,” Lilith groaned, staring daggers at him as her fellow Slytherin chuckled.
“And what’s wrong with boys asking you out?” asked Amelia, raising a brow.
Lilith rolled her eyes at her sister. “That’s why I was late today. Davies asked me to stay behind with him after Transfigurations to ask me to be his date — he was the sixth today, mind you — can you believe the nerve of him? As if I were remotely interested in brutish Quidditch players.”
“Then why don’t you ask out any boy you’re interested in going with?” asked Ruby.
Lilith shook her head. “There’s no boy I’m interested in, don’t you see? I don’t even want to go to that stupid—”
“Why don’t we go together?” asked Aurora with a kind smile, cutting Lilith off. There was a moment of silence.
“Sure,” said Lilith dumbly as a pretty notorious blush crept up her neck, reaching her cheeks — it looked funnily similar to her vibrant red hair.
“Oh, well, look at that. All our Lilith needed was—” said Nicolás, but Lilith put a hand on his mouth with a murderous look.
“Shut it, Cardona,” she hissed as everyone around tried to cover their own giggles with their hands and books. With a pleased smile, and oblivious to her effect on Lilith, Aurora simply went back to the book in her hands.
A while later, Cedric scratched the back of his neck. “Hey, Nico, can we have a word?”
Circling back to Cedric's arrival, Nicolás deemed it a weird request. They were boyfriends, there was absolutely no reason for Cedric to request having a ‘word’ with him. Still, he humored Cedric and guided him a few steps away from their friend. They walked out of the magically heated area, and into a few steps of snow, surrounded by freezing trees.
Nicolás tightened the scarf around his neck and brought his glove-clad hands near his face. Cedric shuddered and pulled the coat wrapped around his body tighter.
With the flecks of snow jumping down his body, Cedric looked tense. His eyes jumped from tree to tree, but they seldom rested on Nicolás for longer than three seconds. He was clearly holding his breath; either he was going to request something he deemed major, or confess something, and Nicolás felt himself drifting in limbo.
Ever since the year started, Cedric seemed to be turning into some kind of ether, and Nicolás was, once more, left feeling astray in it. Feeling too small to fill a gap that never ceased to expand. Feeling inadequate and meager. With the title of Hogwarts champion over his head, Cedric felt way above him, and he didn't know what else to do try and ease the fear that clung to him. What if Cedric turned into the sun, and he, still dumbly hopeful, turned into Icarus in his desire to never leave his side?
It had started with the simple deceit to hide his participation in the Triwizard Tournament, but Nicolás liked to think that — even if they disagreed — they had reached an understanding of sorts about Cedric's reasons, but why did it feel like they were back at square one?
“So…?” Nicolás prompted with a hard swallow, doing his very best to push aside the horrific conjurations of his treacherous brain.
Cedric let out a loud sigh, as if resigned to speak, “I just wanted to ask you to—”
But his tense voice was cut off when an excited voice came across, followed by hurried steps over the thick snow.
"Nicolás!" the female voice in a thick French accent called repeatedly.
When he turned around, he saw a mot of pink hair approaching him. It was Charlotte, Laurent's friend, also from Beauxbatons. Not only was it weird for Charlotte to be searching for him alone—they only ever really interacted through Laurent—but Laurent himself was also running right behind her.
While Charlotte seemed excited, Laurent was almost panicking, hissing and calling her to back down, but the girl was not changing her mind. They ran in a very elegant manner, worthy of any Beauxbatons student.
“Nicolas ! J'ai besoin de te parler de toute urgence !” said Charlotte when she reached them.
“Hé Charlotte, Laurent, c'est vraiment urgent ? Cédric et moi sommes sur quelque chose ici,” said Nicolás, confused.
Ever since Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had arrived, Nicolás and Laurent—and by extension, the French boy’s two friends—had grown considerably closer. At first, Nicolás had been taken aback by Laurent’s upfront flirty behavior, but had grown accustomed to it, realizing—or assuming—nothing else came behind it. Out of his entire social group, Cedric was the only one who still seemed a bit tense every time Nicolás and Laurent spoke in French or Laurent turned some comment into a suggestive one.
Cedric, who still had no grasp on French, sent Nicolás a confused look. Charlotte’s asking to speak, but we’re on something here, they can wait, I—”
“No, it’s fine,” Cedric cut him off. “Get over with it,” there was a certain edge to Cedric’s words that Nicolás didn’t quite appreciate, but that he would bring up later.
"Alors, de quoi vouliez-vous parler ?" said Nicolás, turning back to his French friends.
"J'ai quelque chose à te demander," said Charlotte breathless.
"Charlotte, vraiment, tu ne vas causer que des problèmes," said Laurent, looking at Nicolás apologetically.
"Ce n'est vraiment pas vrai ! Nicolas—" started Charlotte, but Nicolás really needed to get back to his conversation with Cedric.
"Peux-tu continuer, s'il te plaît ?" he asked impatiently.
Charlotte looked uncertain now. Deep red traces of blush were interweaving themselves into the pearly white skin of her face. She cast her eyes down and twirled a strand of pink hair before tucking it behind her ear, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Je voulais savoir si tu viendrais au bal de Noël avec moi," said Charlotte. Nicolás thought, for long seconds, that he had just heard wrong. But no, she had just invited him to the Yule Ball. Awkward…
“Excusez-moi?" was all his brain could come up with. It may have been a little bit more brash than he intended it to. "D'où cela vient-il ?"
"Ce n'est pas grave si tu ne veux pas, vraiment ! Je pensais juste demander" Charlotte quickly excused.
He knew it was entirely wrong of him to take it all out on Charlotte, but he really didn't appreciate this conversation nor such an imprudently obnoxious question, when he felt the grip of hopelessness constricting his chest. He had always made it clear he had a boyfriend, there was no reason for this conversation to exist at all.
"Je m'excuse si, par inadvertance, je t'ai donné de la matière pour nourrir tes pensées, ou si j'ai par négligence planté les graines de cette absurdité dans ton esprit, mais il vaudrait mieux que tu les coupes à la racine. J'ai un petit ami, et je m'attends à ce que vous le respectiez tous les deux," said Nicolás in a mental fog. His brain was running on fumes, and he was doing his best to find the right words in French, even if they came across as harsh.
He knew he shouldn't let his emotions drive him, but he was also very aware of how below him this was, and he was offended to even think he would ever lead anyone to entertain the idea of betraying Cedric.
Still blushing, Charlotte and Laurent seemed to understand, because their sorry eyes searched for Cedric, but he was already gone from the scene.
Back with their friends, Cedric sat next to Dorian. His face was cast down, and his broad shoulders hunched as he rudely pulled at some innocent grass. Dorian was looking at him inquiringly, his blue eyes going from Cedric to Nicolás and back and forth.
"Je vous verrai dans les parages," said Nicolás with a sigh, passing by them and towards the castle. With his fists clenched at his sides, he refused to glance back. With each step, he felt his friends’ eyes burning on his back. By now, the chilling cold of the white winter felt not much different than the one spreading from his core.
Nicolás had had faith that the following days would be better. But he was proved wrong.
The more the Yule Ball approached, the more Caelum and Dorian seemed to be annoyed with each other, and it had stopped being rare for them to simply start jabbing at each other’s throats, with any of them storming off fuming. Their Black and Lestrange genes were really shining through their crisis.
A part of Nicolás wanted to feel relieved to realize he wasn’t the only one feeling astray, but seeing how badly it affected his cousin was really of no help. If there was one thing clear as day, it was that Caelum was as headstrong as Uncle Sirius, but Dorian was nowhere behind him—he was raised by the Malfoys after all. They were both hurting so badly from trying to make the other one hurt, but there was really nothing Nicolás could do to alleviate any of it—after the last time Caelum snapped at him with a ‘keep your nose out of this, Nico,’ he realized it was probably for the best.
There was so much shifting around him, and it worried him. The places he once felt one and the same with, no longer felt like it. What once had felt like a warm hug from the Hufflepuff Common Room, now felt like a suffocating sweater that’s a size smaller than you; everyone’s presence now felt so much closer to him, like they were trying to invade him to try and catch any of Cedric’s light. His dorm felt almost claustrophobic, and the interaction with his dormmates was as awkward as it had been when he had first arrived two years back.
His shared bed with Cedric, despite its mattress and blankets, felt like a cold and arid desert as Cedric would lie motionless, looking at the ceiling until his eyes fell to sleep; there were few touches, little intimacy, what had been their heaven, now left his heart feeling like a sacked Troy. Cedric’s silence screamed at him, but that was a language so alien to him; he no longer knew how to kick off a conversation in the dark of the night.
Even meeting with his friends wasn’t the same. There was a large boulder heaving on Caelum’s and Dorian’s shoulders, and like Sisyphus, no one could throw it away, and there was a darkness twisting around Cedric no one knew how to disperse. For long days, Nicolás thought he was the problem, the one changing, regressing, but soon he realized that was wrong.
There was one place that still welcomed him like it had done in each of its replications all throughout his life: the library. The earthly colors, the smell of parchment and paper, of fresh ink as the tip of a quill scraped along a surface, the magic buzzing all over his skin, and the promise of knowledge putting his brain cells on edge in the best way possible.
For the first time, it didn’t really matter that something was off in his friend group, because he could finally focus entirely on his homework, more specifically the one from Castelobruxo; he was still struggling to come up with an idea on how to modify his father’s Dilectus Meus spell.
“I need to know what’s up with them,” Lilith hissed at his side. Everyone’s eyes snapped at her with different levels of query.
“Them?” asked Nicolás, raising his eyes from his book.
Instead of answering verbally, Lilith tilted her chin up, gesturing towards a table three tables down from theirs. Around the table, five guys sat. At first, he didn’t think much of it, but it soon struck him that those were Durmstrang guys, slightly taller and beefier than the Hogwarts guys of their age. The only one Nicolás could really recognize from them was Viktor Krum.
Now, the most interesting thing about them was their behavior. Constantly, as if taking turns to do so, they, one by one, turned to look at Nicolás’ table. First, their eyes would look confused, they would scan the entire table, look lastly at Nicolás, then nod and say something among themselves with smirks. Don’t get him wrong, Nicolás was used to being laughed at, either because he was a nerd in capital letters, or because he simply wasn’t on most people’s attractive radar, but there was something unsettling about the way those boys looked at him. He surely hoped they weren’t planning anything stupid like bullying him, not only was he overly capable with his wand, but Caelum—and all his friends by extension—would probably jump them too.
“Why are they looking at you like that?” asked Willow, looking at Nicolás. Nicolás shrugged, just as confused as everyone else, and stood up from his chair.
“I don’t know, but this book isn’t being of much assistance. I’ll go look for another one.”
Something must have happened, because as Nicolás slipped in between two shelves, he heard everyone else from his table get up. From the row in front of him, Caelum emerged, grabbing two books and looking at their covers, but not really reading them, at his side, Willow and Ruby. On the aisle behind, Cedric, Lilith, and Amara did the same thing.
Weird, he thought to himself, moving on to the next shelf. There, Aurora and Amelia were looking at some books the same way the others did. Weirded out, he moved across a few other aisles, but every time, he was trapped in between either of his friends.
With a sigh, he realized it was worthless to even try to evade them now, so he chose to look for the book he needed. He passed a few, General Magical Theory,’ ‘The Principles of Magic,’ ‘The Theory of Spell Crafting,’ ‘The Anatomy of Spells,’ and finally, one of them caught his attention: ‘Deconstructing Enchantments,’ it sounded perfect.
He grabbed the purple leather-bound book. He felt someone’s presence behind him as a shadow was cast. At first, he assumed it was Cedric, given how tall it was, before said someone coughed, almost making him drop the book on his hand, as the voice was much deeper than Cedric’s. When he turned, he realized that not only it was none of his friends, but it was actually five guys, the ones from Durmstrang he had just seen.
The one who coughed to get his attention was none other than Viktor Krum, who was looking at him awkwardly. Clear as day, he heard Caelum hiss “Damn,” from the shelf behind him.
“You’re Nicolás, right?” Krum asked in a deep voice with a thick accent that made it hard to understand the words.
“Uhm, yes, I am,” said Nicolás, awkwardly looking from one boy to the next. They were all very tall and rugged, wearing thick coats instead of robes.
Krum coughed into his fist and nodded stiffly. “This is my friend, Todor, he needs to speak with you.” All the boys around them nodded enthusiastically. Weird. They looked like some kind of cult; a cult of tall, handsome, rugged boys, but a cult anyway, and it was putting Nicolás on edge.
“O-uh-kay,” said Nicolás. The boy Krum mentioned, who Nicolás assumed to be Todor, stepped in front of the others. He was the tallest one, just as wide as Krum—he clearly played Quidditch—, and a slight smirk crept up his lips as he looked Nicolás up and down.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Todor roughly. His voice was pretty nice, the accent not as thick—which made Nicolás wonder why he needed Krum to present him—and he seemed just fine.
“Good things I hope?” Nicolás didn’t know where the conversation was going.
“Very good, don’t worry,” said Todor. “Can we talk somewhere more… private?”
Nicolás raised a brow. “If your pals left, right here would be more ‘private’.”
With a chuckle, Todor turned to look at his friends. The other boys looked at him with cheeky smirks, sending him thumbs up, before they retreated towards other shelves. Weird. For some reason, Nicolás didn't expect the Durmstrang boys to behave like any other high-school boys, but they really did.
For long moments, they stand there, in the middle of the aisle, in silence. Todor put his hands inside the pockets of his thick furry coat. Nicolás counted to ten, before getting fed up with this whatever it was.
“Mate, if you ain’t gonna say anything, I have things to get to,” said Nicolás impatiently, raising the book in his hand.
Todor chuckled, taking the book from Nicolás’ hand, which was irritating, to say the least.
“They did say you liked to study very much,” said the boy. “Didn’t mention how feisty you are.”
“Feisty?” asked Nicolás baffled. “What sort of absurdity are you playing at? And who’s ‘them’?”
“Your protégés,” said Todor, handing the book back to Nicolás, and taking a step too close to his comfort.
Nicolás looked at him like an alien. “My protégés? Do you mean my tutees? What are you even talking to them? I surely hope not intimidating them.” He stopped, feeling the hard wood of the shelf press against his back. “And step back, you’re too close.”
Todor’s eyes snapped open as he took a step back, looking around. Nicolás did the same, noticing Caelum walking towards him, but with only his eyes, his cousin stopped in his tracks.
“Look, aver, I don’t know what you’re playing here, but I don’t appreciate it. Or you talk clearly, or this is over.”
He obviously was someone not used to people vocally challenging him. Nicolás words hit him like a whip, and he jumped back as if his feet had been burned. His eyes widened so comically that Nicolás would’ve laughed out loud if it wasn’t such a tasteless thing to do in a busy library.
“Mamka mu!” Todor hissed under his breath. “It was too harsh, right? Viktor said to be thoughtful, but I didn’t know what else to say,” he had started a sort of monologue, waving his hands around and Nicolás had the impression he wasn’t supposed to hear any of it. “Ugh, glupav glupav, glupav,” he repeated, tapping temples.
The absurdity of this hunk of a guy crumbling like a gingerbread house right in front of him was way beyond Nicolás’ social skills. He looked around where he still knew his friends were, but apparently, all of them, all of a sudden, they all found the books too entertaining. The only one who still had his eyes on him, over the top of the book in his hands, was Cedric, whose eyes didn’t seem quite as entertained as everyone else’s.
“Mate, I don’t think it is that big of a deal,” said Nicolás awkwardly to try and soothe Todor. That seemed to be enough to snap Todor back.
“Really?” he asked. “Great! Let’s start again then. My name is Todor,” he added, reaching out his hand for Nicolás.
“Uhm, Nicolás, but you already knew that,” said Nicolás, shaking his hand. Todor nodded eagerly, and if it wasn’t for how strange the whole interaction had been, he would’ve found it adorable.
“Yeah, Viktor said you were with the other boys, the Hogwarts Champions before the First Task started, why did you help him?”
Nicolás scratched the back of his neck. “I was helping Harry and Cedric; it was only fair to help Viktor and Fleur too. Leveling the ground, you know”
“That was very noble of you,” said Todor earnestly. Nicolás felt an awkward blush crept up his cheeks.
“Thank you, but I doubt you only searched for me to praise me for helping your friend. Would you — would you mind stop beating around the bush?”
“Very straightforward,” said Todor with a chuckle. “I like that, you know.” Nicolás offered no response, only a questioning brow. “Well, the reason I'm here is because I wanted to invite you to come to the ball as my date.”
Oh well, isn’t that shit hitting the fan? It had been days of waiting for Cedric, his bloody boyfriend, to ask him, but no, of course, two people he was not interested in had done it before. Was this some kind of sign? But a sign of what?
“You are very bold,” was the first thing Nicolás could come up with. “It’s really sweet — I’m very flattered but I—” a loud thud crossed the silent library as a book crashed against the floor. When Nicolás looked around, he saw Cedric, stomping towards the entrance. He didn’t need to see Cedric’s face to know he was angry; it was written in the way he moved, the way his shoulders were tense, and his face was turned down. Some people tried to greet him, but he didn’t recognize anyone until he crossed the door.
“—look, I’m really sorry, but I have a boyfriend, and I intend to go with him, if you’ll excuse me,” said Nicolás in a hurry. He apologetically patted Todor’s shoulder and hurried out of the library in the direction Cedric had taken.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
As his shoes squeaked over the floor's surface, all his hands could do was reproachfully pull at the hair from the back of his head, which was getting much longer than he normally liked — the only up from it, was how nice Nicolás' fingers felt threading through it.
It was stupid. He was stupid. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. Not only was that French girl after Nicolás, but also that Bulgarian guy too. The girl was cute, and that guy was handsome, Cedric had damned eyes, and he was sure Nicolás would notice something like that too.
Nicolás was smart, so goddamned smart. And don’t get him wrong, Cedric knew he was smart on his own; he had gotten pretty great O.W.L.s, and his prefect badge spoke for itself. But there was something so clouding about Nicolás’ intellect that threw him off balance.
It was childish, and he knew it, but all his life, his parents had worshipped the floor he walked on, and that had somehow extended to his Hogwarts years, but now? There was not a single person in the entire castle that was smarter than Nicolás—with maybe the exception of Dumbledore—, and people barely saw anything in Cedric beyond his physical attractiveness.
Nicolás’ mind was so sagacious, and farsighted, it was like a gigantic tidal wave crashing right into the world with a power worth the envy of the Greek gods. For someone who liked to describe himself as fun-sized, Nicolás’ presence and mind were too big to be contained. And Cedric was, once more, left feeling doubtful of his place in Nicolás’ life.
For all purposes, Nicolás’ family was rich; Cedric’s father was Nicolás’ mom’s subordinate at the Ministry, for heaven’s sake. Growing up, Cedric had seen how his mom had taken care of the household while his father worked to sustain them; but really, there was nothing Cedric could offer Nicolás that would make it worth his time. Nicolás never asked for, nor demanded a thing, and yet, Cedric knew he was lacking.
‘My family would never expect you to bring in anything,’ had said Nicolás a few days back to calm him. And it had worked back then. But now? Something told him that the French girl, or that Bulgarian guy, had more money than he did, and they were both trying to get Nicolás to go to the ball with them. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to live up to that?
For the last few weeks, while he had been a constant victim of his own mind’s torture, he knew he had been pushing Nicolás away, and Nicolás deserved so much more than that, but he couldn’t bring himself to act differently.
When he graduated, Nicolás would travel to become a Magizoologist—even if he already had more knowledge than most—and would later on inherit his family’s magical reserve. And Cedric? He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, he had no money in his pockets that wasn’t his parents, and his only hope of having anything of his own was winning the Triwizard Tournament—something more they disagreed on, because Nicolás had been so angry that he put himself in ‘unnecessary’ danger, and even angrier to have the truth hidden from him.
Did Nicolás really deserve to settle for someone as mediocre as him? Someone who would only be remembered for his looks after the years passed?
Someone like Nicolás was meant to change the world—to improve it—, but someone like Cedric? He was meant to be the guy whose face everyone's minds would faintly trace once the years had passed and their youth had grown out; when people were asked about their high school crush, it was him they would think about. His legacy would be a distracted and distantly nostalgic thought, a deep chuckle, and a 'he was smoking hot'. Nothing more.
He still remembered how badly Nicolás was when they started dating, tearing himself apart for his looks, arguing he wasn’t as attractive as Cedric. It was funny, really, how similarly poisonous their minds were, because, to Cedric, Nicolás' skin was the most beautiful, with all of his scars and acne.
Should he take the handle and finally drive Nicolás entirely away, even if it was against Nicolás’ own wishes? If he pushed Nicolás away, he would feel better about himself by giving Nicolás the chance to find someone better—even if he knew his heart would never recover—, but if he didn’t, he would hate to live with the weight of knowing Nicolás could have had someone greater.
For weeks, as they lay in bed, all Cedric could do was look at the ceiling and contemplate how much longer it would take for Nicolás to finally come to his senses and leave him alone with all of his questions. Even as Nicolás' lean arms wrapped around his waist, and the boy nuzzled his cheek on his shoulder with a sleepy 'Much thought?' all Cedric could do was hum.
One of his favorite things about Nicolás' mind, was that it contained so much knowledge, that it seemed impossible for him to not share it. One of his repertory's favorites was the Greek myths Nicolás was so passionate about. In the darkness of their dorm, with their legs entwined, and wrapped in the warmth of their bed, he would relate to Cedric the poems of Homer, Hesiod, Apollonius, and others.
Out of all of them, right now, Cedric felt somewhat attuned to Jason: forsaken by the gods.
Nicolás always said that their destiny was of their own doing, but in his mind, Cedric saw them on a tightrope, bound to fall. It felt like they were destined to crash at some point. Like they were destined to break, and somehow, Cedric was the one applying all the pressure; it was killing him, and, once he was a decaying corpse, he knew his pestilence would wither Nicolás too.
After Nicolás told that guy, whatever his name was, that he was so ‘bold’ and how ‘flattered’ he was by being asked, he had ran off the library. Surely Nicolás’ would never accept going with him, but what if he did? What if Nicolás realized he deserved better than Cedric and agreed? Nicolás had never given him reason to doubt his love, but now? Cedric didn’t know where he was standing, or if he was standing at all.
For all he knew, maybe he was already falling, maybe he had already fallen and was not aware of his broken body on the frozen ground. After all, falling feels like flying till the bones crush.
For all purposes, maybe his mind’s goal had been achieved, and he had finally driven Nicolás away enough to see clearly. Maybe, for the last two years, Cedric had been a thick lavender haze in Nicolás' way, making it hard for him to see beyond, but having pushed himself away, maybe Nicolás now had a clearer view.
He came to an abrupt halt, barely inches from crashing right into the girl walking around the corner.
“Oh, Cedric!” said Zhang Mei, the Ravenclaw Seeker. She was one year below him and Nicolás.
“Sorry, Mei,” Cedric excused himself. “Up in my mind, you know,” he said lamely.
“Oh,” the girl chuckled, “I know all about that,” she said shily.
With a smile, Cedric excused himself and started to walk away, before Mei called out to him.
“I—I wanted to ask you something,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Would you go to the Yule Ball with me?”
Then came the final crack, bound to make the ice break. Maybe that was his sign. He knew so damn well that Nicolás had been waiting for him to invite him to the ball, or maybe he considered that being boyfriends, it was a given going together. But this? What if this was what he needed to do to finally free Nicolás?
He was but a boy, and he was significantly less cunning than Nicolás was—almost everyone was, really. All he could do was ask all the deities he didn’t believe in, to anyone who heard him, that his lifetime of heartbreak would be worth Nicolás’ forgiveness down the line.
He nodded and bestowed upon Zhang Mei his fakest smile.
“Sure,” he said, even if it felt like it was someone with his voice speaking.
“Great!” said Mei, jumping, unprompted, to hug him.
“Ced?” the voice was so brittle, yet his back tensed to the limit. He wished he hadn't looked for its source, because that was an image tattooed in tetrodotoxin straight on his skin.
Nicolás was standing just at the corner, looking at them; his shoulders down with a defeat that was disrespectful to his person. And he didn’t need anything to know that he had heard them. The storms of pain in the chocolate pools that were his eyes were enough for Cedric’s heart to fall, straight to Tartarus, where he deserved to wait for his eternal punishment.
“Sorry for interrupting you,” said Nicolás quietly, swallowing a rock. The boy coughed on his fist, and with his eyes on the ground, he turned around and walked away in the most dignified way a heartbroken teenager could ever muster. Cedric’s first instinct was to follow, but his body betrayed him, knowing how unworthy he was to even stain Nicolás’ life once more.
It was stupid to expect any kind of lashing from Nicolás. He was so above the mundane emotions, the common revenge. And maybe that made it worse. In his mind he begged for Nicolás to hex him, to enact on him any of the pain he had caused, but nothing came.
As Nicolás’ quick steps turned to silence, Cedric could feel countless eyes on him. There was no one there, but maybe his prayers, instead of being answered, had turned him into some disturbingly fascinating display for a non-existent audience.
“He looked sad,” said Mei, “Did you guys—?”
“I’ll see you around,” Cedric cut her off, walking away. He did his best to shut out the outrageous laughter that plagued his mind, but his regret, shame, anger, and vitriol didn't comply. Maybe that had been all it took for his reasons to become the blame.
Maybe that was his punishment: to join Tantalus, Sisyphus, Tityos, and so many others in the halls of the damned. He had held the world's brightest light in his hand, and for what? All he did was shatter it. He, like the worst sinners, deserved no less.
Had they existed, he was sure Aphrodite or her sons, Eros and Anteros, would make sure he got his rightful punishment—hell, even Hera would take matters into her own hands. But they weren't there. There was no divine curse placed on him, and unlike Jason, he had no Circe to run to for cleansing. And maybe that was the worst part of it all. He was left to his own devices, with the consequences of his own actions hanging over him, with enough weight to bury him, and maybe he wanted to be buried. Maybe that would be more bearable than to face Nicolás ever again.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
He tried, with all his might, to follow his own commands, but it was hard. It was hard when each particle of air that entered his organism was more akin to mercury. It felt heavy and poisonous, each drag felt like it brought his demise closer.
Had he been any more naive, maybe he could have convinced himself that he had heard wrong. Maybe Cedric’s ‘sure’ was not an agreement, or maybe he misheard Mei’s question. But he had been too close for that and had heard far too clearly to fool himself.
Each step he took felt like his bare feet sank on barbed wire, excruciating and unrelenting pain. His eyes, which saw nothing but blur, were still glued on the floor. Funnily enough, he wasn't sure if the blur his world had become was due to the tears soaking his eyes, or if the world had simply lost its clarity.
Maybe it was both, maybe it was neither. All Nicolás knew was that, when he passed by the library’s door, he couldn’t muster the might to look at his friends. Any of them would probably be holding his school bag, which he had forgotten when he ran after Cedric. He had no way of answering any of his friends’ questions, nor did he wish to do so.
At each corner, he turned, like a prey that ran with all its might, drowned in the knowledge of his imminent death.
For the first time, since his first months at Hogwarts, he felt lost. Each hall and each turn felt like it was part of a labyrinth, but unlike Theseus, Nicolás had no magic ball of thread to guide him. In the blur that his world had turned into, he couldn’t recall going up any stairs, but soon enough he realized, guided by the view from the narrow windows, that he was far above the first floor.
‘Breathe in, breathe out,’ he kept trying to order his brain, but all of a sudden, his Autonomic Nervous System didn’t really know what to do. The last time he had had a panic attack, Cedric had been there to guide him, and all throughout his life, his parents had always done so. But now, he was all alone. He was left to his own devices to do the only thing his mind could come up with: run away, hide away.
With each floor he ascended, he realized how smaller and smaller the number of people became, until there were none at all. No student and no staff. Not even the castle ghosts made an appearance. All his brain could think of was finding a place to hide. If he was going to become undone, he needed a place to be on his own, away from the world.
Finally, in the middle of the hall, on the left side, he saw a door. His body, all but crashed right into it. The door opened for him, and he fell to his knees, dragging gigantic breaths of air to his lungs. The door closed itself right behind him.
After minutes that felt like eternities of their own, Nicolás’ breath started to slow down. With little regard, he threw himself on his back, his eyes stuck on the ceiling that, even beyond the thick layer of tears, seemed to be impossibly tall.
What was he to do now? How was he supposed to face Cedric? Could he? He thought not.
Ever since they met, back when they were only eleven, Cedric had always brought him a unique sense of peace. Peace to be himself in tranquility, with no expectations, and no ambitions. Just him.
All of his life, Nicolás had been aware of just how extremely physical he was—everyone in his family was, really. But the physicality with Cedric was very different from the one he shared with them. It was so intimate, so reserved—it felt so venerable. But now? It felt so corrupt. Tainted.
Every time he attempted to bring forward any memory of him and Cedric, all he could picture was his boyfriend with Zhang Mei. The only thing preventing him from spiraling back into panic was the feeling of the hard and cold button of his robes pressed tightly in the handful on his fist. His chest jumped up and down in dry sobs.
If up until now he had felt drifting in an endless ether, he now felt lost in the vastness of the sea. He remembered how it felt to have the sea’s salt sticking to his skin, but now? It felt as though the Inferi in the cave of Regulus’ copy of Slytherin’s Locket had caught him and were having the time of their deaths by tearing him apart with their claws.
When did the fire of the candle he and Cedric held become a scorching blaze? How did the ripple of their relationship—that he thought they were surfing on—become a tidal wave? He doubted he would find the answers by lying on the floor and crying his heart out like a child.
With shaking legs, he stood up and looked around. The room seemed to be an endless sort of storage room with all sorts of things from all sorts of time periods.
Right in front of him, as if to welcome him, was the chipped bust of an old warlock that, by Nicolás’ standards, had not been too physically gifted in life. Funnily, atop the warlock’s head sat an old, discolored tiara, or a diadem, if you knew about that sort of stuff.
With the sleeve of his robes, Nicolás dried the tears soaking his face. With a sniffle, that had the intention of stabilizing his breathing, he started to walk.
The place was so immeasurable, far beyond what Nicolás had expected. Looking at it closely, more than a storage, it greatly resembled a gigantic, endless dump. There were mountains of all kinds of stuff. Nothing seemed arranged—it looked like, over the centuries, people simply used the room to get rid of things they no longer cared for. How fitting for him to find himself in there.
There were piles of dusty furniture of all kinds of wood and from what Nicolás assumed were centuries. There were sets of rusting armor, countless discarded items, and even a weird-looking boar statue made of bronze.
Along the mountains of discarded furniture, there were also some magical portraits of wizards from what seemed to be the Middle Ages that tried to talk to Nicolás. The boy, up in his own mind, paid the long-deceased wizards and witches no second thought as he passed.
He lost track of time but was sure he had already missed his last two classes. Not that he cared much about that at the moment. What brought him to a halt was coming face-to-face with a mirror. It was small, like a bathroom mirror, its frame made out of silver, shaping an oval.
He looked… not overly good. He was aware he wasn’t the pinnacle of attractiveness—not remotely close to measuring up how good-looking Cedric, Caelum, or Dorian were. After crying for so long, his eyes were swollen and red, with deep circles underneath. And suddenly, the pimples on his forehead, which earlier that morning were insignificant, seemed so much uglier. The acne scars lingering on his cheeks did not help him feel any better.
For months, the thing keeping his feelings for Cedric chained were his insecurities. What if he wasn’t attractive enough to catch the attention of someone as attractive as Cedric? Cedric had been, with his actions, the one to soothe his fears, but now? Cedric had drawn stars around his scars, but now they were bleeding, a gushing wound that no Dittany could heal.
A rush swept up on him, a wave of emotions oddly infrequent for him. He clenched his fists at his sides. Before he could change his mind, his hand shot out. With a violent swipe, he threw the mirror off its place, sending it straight to the floor.
With a resounding thud, the silver frame crashed into the floor, breaking the mirror into a million tiny pieces, scattered over the place.
How curious. He could see the shattered pieces of broken glass lying on the floor, or was he actually seeing his broken self on those pieces?
He took three deep breaths, squeezing his eyes shut, then he pulled out his wand and, instead of fixing the mirror, he vanished it with a flick.
With a final stabilizing breath, he turned around and walked out of the room.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
Given they have known each other since birth—quite literally—, Caelum liked to boast in his understanding of Nicolás' mind, even if Nicolás lived on a higher ground when it came to IQ, magical or mundane.
When Nicolás rushed past them at the library's entrance, Caelum was the one to understand his face, or at the very least, what it represented. There were layers of pain, rejection, and desolation, but above all else, Caelum could read the need for space. Nicolás' mind always needed space—that's just how huge it was—, and Nicolás, by extension, also needed lots of space for himself.
By now, all their friends knew, to some extent, how Nicolás' need for space was of the utmost importance to his cousin, so naturally, none of them followed him, even though all of them felt the need to do so.
Every single one of them stood in front of the library's entrance for long minutes. Neither really knew what to do. Of all the situations they had envisioned themselves, this was never one of them.
Cedric, someone of a very tame demeanor, had stomped out of the library in anger, for something nobody really understood, and Nicolás had run after his boyfriend. Now Nicolás ran, like a wounded animal, in the opposite direction. Whatever those two had talked about, whatever had happened, it was no good. Of that Caelum was sure.
Amara and Aurora, as his fellow Hufflepuffs, had decided to go after Cedric. Caelum insisted on leaving Nicolás alone, but they still decided to take a look around before their next class started.
Caelum tried to move towards Dorian, hoping the situation would soften him a bit. He was wrong, of course, Dorian, after a single look at him, had moved towards Amelia and the two Slytherins walked away.
"You know I don't like to intrude when not asked, but you two are really getting on my nerves," was the first thing Ruby said as they walked towards the Transfiguration classroom. "And yes, I know," she cut him off before he could utter a single word. "It's none of our business — as you've made overly clear to Nico, but really, it's getting pathetic."
Caelum sighed. He would've liked to smash his face with one of his books—the thickest one if possible—, but he wouldn't do such a thing in the middle of a hallway. He didn't need to ask to know who 'you two' were. He also felt guilty about Nicolás; it wasn't his fault he cared so much about everyone, it was simply who he was, and sometimes, Caelum had found since they were kids, it was pretty overwhelming.
"Ruby, it's really nothing—"
"Yeah, of course, you and Dorian barely tolerating looking at each other is absolutely normal. The same Dorian with whom you used to sneak out to the Astronomy Tower in our first years. The same Dorian for whom you challenged the entirety of our classmates to look past how big of a deal the Lestrange name is.
"Look, I'm not trying to meddle in your personal affairs or your irksome 'love life', but it's starting to affect our group dynamic, and I think that makes it worth inspecting."
"Irksome? — I personally think you should focus more on Nicolás and Cedric rather than me and Dorian — and there is no such thing as a 'love life'," Caelum groaned.
"Yes, Caelum, irksome; it's bothering and frustrating. The Nicolás and Cedric thing will have to wait until we find them. And I'm pretty sure we can all tell the problem might be your nonexistent love life," Ruby sneered, opening the classroom door and entering.
Ouch. So, his problems with Dorian were of everyone’s knowledge. Just great. As if having Nicolás on his back about it wasn’t enough. Don’t get him wrong, he loved Nicolás to pieces—and has done for as long as they have been alive—but having his cousin being a bigger ‘mother hen’ than his very own mother wasn’t funny; he really was Aunt Carolina and Uncle Remus’ son.
Yes, he didn't need to snap at Nicolás every time he asked, but he really was overbearing.
When he took the spot next to Ruby, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, how the Slytherins started to fill the room alongside the other Gryffindors.
Without diverting their eyes from upfront, Dorian and Amelia walked past them and towards their own seats, on the row of desks just ahead.
“As I've told Nicolás, I’d rather not talk about it,” he heard Dorian hiss as he took his seat next to Amelia. The girl didn't even spare a look as she took out her books, but Caelum knew her enough to know just how badly she probably had rolled her eyes.
So Dorian was also having problems, huh? Well, that was obvious. Had Dorian not been having problems, he and Caelum would be just fine, right? It was so irritating. The class that unfolded was also irritating. He had little space of mind to focus on Professor McGonagall explaining how to summon a flock of bloody birds when every five minutes a goddamned pink paper plane arrived on Dorian’s desk.
If his humor worsened each time some girl—and some boys too—approached Dorian to ask him out for the Yule Ball, well, nobody needed to know that. Nobody needed to know how pathetic he felt at witnessing others do it, nor how satisfied he felt when Dorian sent them their merry way.
Yes, he wanted to invite Dorian to the ball himself, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was so much surrounding him, it clouded his understanding of the boy. He had long ago come to peace with the fact that, yes, Dorian had been raised by the Malfoys, and yes, he held, to some extent, affection for them—he clearly cared a lot for Draco—but that didn’t change all the dark edges around him.
The Malfoys were, by definition, dark wizards. Caelum’s mother was the Head of the Auror Office, heaven’s sake, it was her job to bring people like them to face justice. The Malfoys supported Voldemort and brought so much pain for which they never paid. Dorian was a Lestrange, another tainted family. But Caelum knew the story of Victor and Leliana—Dorian’s parents—and how they had been in the Order of the Phoenix.
Because, to some extent, Caelum himself was tied, by blood, to some of these people. He was a Black, Narcissa Malfoy was a Black, and Bellatrix Lestrange, her sister, was also a Black; they were his father's cousins, and by extension, his own.
Dorian was made up of so many contradictions that called out Caelum like the candle’s flames do to a moth. He had been raised by some of the most loathsome individuals, but still turned out better than any of them could ever wish to be.
On the surface, Dorian was a marble statue, cold, distant, and indifferent to his surroundings, but inside, he did care, a lot; he cared about his friends, about his parents’ legacy, and about Draco.
Something had to have happened over the last summer. Caelum had sent countless letters, and Dorian had answered exactly zero of them. Given the age Dorian was approaching, Caelum knew it wasn’t a far stretch to assume the Malfoys were planning something for him.
The Blacks, like any other dark pureblood family, were no different. His father had told him of how his parents always talked about a tradition for those who held the position of heir, a rite of passage if you will. For his father, it had been at fifteen, when his parents had expected him to learn how to torture muggles. Of course, Sirius Black, being Sirius Black, had refused, bestowing upon himself, as endless times before, the fury of his parents, and the fire from the tip of their wands in the name of the Cruciatus Curse.
The thing is, Dorian reminded Caelum more of his Uncle Reg than he did of his own father, Sirius. Uncle Reg had told him of all the awful things he had done under the roof of Grimmauld Place in the name of survival.
Uncle Reg had gone through with everything that was expected of him when he ascended from the spare to the heir, after Sirius ran away and was disowned. He had tortured muggles for his parents’ entertainment, and he had joined the Death Eaters and fought alongside them. The thing is, Uncle Reg was never loyal to them nor Voldemort; he spent all his time as a Death Eater aiding the Order of the Phoenix, and by the end of it, did his very best—and succeeded—to fool Voldemort with Slytherin’s Locket.
Up in his mind, he was surprised when he was stopped at the room’s door. It was Angelina Johnson from the Quidditch team who placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Hey Caelum,” she said with a wide smile.
“Oh! Hi, Angelina,” said Caelum distractedly.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“I assume we're talking?” Caelum retorted, not sure where the girl intended to go with it.
“Right,” Angelina forced a chuckle. “So, you, me, Yule Ball, what do you say?” she asked blatantly.
“Pardon?” he asked. It was curious, he didn’t need to raise his eyes to know that Dorian’s steely eyes were placed on him. He could feel them burning on his forehead.
Angelina sighed. “I’m asking if you’d go to the Yule Ball with me,” she clarified.
“Oh, no, thank you,” said Caelum, before slapping himself on the forehead for how rude it sounded. “Sorry, I’m really flattered, truly, but I’m planning on inviting someone.”
Thankfully, Angelina, as with everything, didn’t take it personally and just shrugged it off and walked away with her friends Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet.
Caelum let out a sigh. It wasn't the first time a girl—or a boy—asked him out for the ball. It had been so awkward to reject them, even after the fifteen line was crossed.
When he finally raised his grey eyes, he met Dorians' blue ones. The Slytherin's eyes were narrowed at him, as if studying the whole interaction, but then, they relaxed in what seemed to be satisfaction. One of the corners of Dorians' mouth curled up, and the boy tugged Amelia to walk away with him.
⋆｡°✩°｡⋆
Author's note
well, it took us a while to come to this place but it's finally happened!!! After four months, a new chapter is up!!! I'm already working on the next chapter, but again, can't promise when it'll be out :( anyway, here's the translation for the French and Bulgarian dialogues (remember i made them all via a translator and don't speak either myself!!)
French:
"Nicolas ! J'ai besoin de te parler de toute urgence !":"Nicolás! I need to speak with you, urgently!"
"Hé Charlotte, Laurent, c'est vraiment urgent ? Cédric et moi sommes sur quelque chose ici": Hey, Charlotte, Laurent, is it really urgent? Cedric and I are on to something here.
"Alors, de quoi vouliez-vous parler ?":"So, what did you guys want to talk about?"
"J'ai quelque chose à te demander": I have something to ask you
"Charlotte, vraiment, tu ne vas causer que des problèmes":Charlotte, really, you're only going to cause problems
"Ce n'est vraiment pas vrai ! Nicolas—":That's really not true! Nicolas—
Peux-tu continuer, s'il te plaît ?: Can you please get on with it?
"Je voulais savoir si tu viendrais au bal de Noël avec moi":"I wanted to know if you would go to the Yule Ball with me."
"Excusez-moi?":"Excuse me?"
D'où cela vient-il ?:Where is this coming from?
"Ce n'est pas grave si tu ne veux pas, vraiment ! Je pensais juste demander": "It's fine if you don't want to, really! I just thought I'd ask"
Vous dépassez les bornes ici:You guys are crossing a line in here
Quoi ? Non ! Nicolás—:What? No! Nicolás—
Nicolás, s'il te plaît—: Nicolás, please—
Je m'excuse si, par inadvertance, je t'ai donné de la matière pour nourrir tes pensées, ou si j'ai par négligence planté les graines de cette absurdité dans ton esprit, mais il vaudrait mieux que tu les coupes à la racine. J'ai un petit ami, et je m'attends à ce que vous le respectiez tous les deux.:I apologize if, inadvertently, I ever gave you material to feed your thoughts, or if I laxly planted the seeds for this absurdity in your mind, but it'll be best if you cut them from the root. I have a boyfriend, and I'll expect both of you to respect that
"Je vous verrai dans les parages": "I'll see you guys around"
Bulgarian:
"Aver":Bro
"Mamka Mu!":God damn it!
"Glupav":Stupid
sadly yes, Nicolás and Cedric are not in a good place, and sadly yes, it's only going to get far worse before it gets better :)))
this chapter took so long to write but it has SO MANY song references and i absolutely love them!!!
Thank you to each and very single one of you who have been waiting for this, i really, really, appreciate you for following this never-ending story alongside me!!! i love you and thank you for your support!! As always, follows, kudos, likes, comments, and any kind of love is appreciated!!
- 𝐣. 𝐟. 𝐜. 🐼💜