#Fabian wouldn’t fabian would egg people on behind his back

[askrizgugak]

“Friends with benefits” “queer platonic relationship” Shut up let me cuddle my best friend without people thinking we’re anything more than best friends.

[tazatouille]

this is how the story goes

word count: 4249

warnings: mentions of death, disassociation, alcoholism and small mention of toxic masculinity

ao3 link

summary: In which Fabian deals with the fact that he doesn't always have to be the hero.

“Let me read to you tonight, my darling.” Mama says to him, holding out her hand. Fabian, being the small boy he is, lets out a giggle and runs over to her, taking it excitedly. She smiles down at him and he sees his own dimples on her cheeks. Fabian can’t help but think that she must be the most beautiful lady to ever live, because of course that would be his Mama. Her silver hair falls like waves down her shoulders and he wonders if one day his hair will grow as long as hers. 

She leads him to their library, hoisting him up briefly so he can pick out a book. He can’t quite read all the titles yet, so he picks the one he can reach, which is a small picture book. Mama brings him close to her chest, holding him with one arm. “Ah, that’s a fine choice, Fabian.”

“What’s it about, Mama?” He asks her, letting her flip the book over in his hands. 

“Hmm… let’s see.” She says softly. “It looks like you’ve picked an Elven tale tonight, one about a handsome adventurer who sails the seas in search of a great sea monster.” 

“That sounds like Papa!” This earns a laugh from his mother, who kisses him on the cheek.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Mama lets go of the book, letting Fabian press it to his chest. Then she carries him out of the library and towards the stairs. “It’s time to get you to bed now, Fabian.”

---

Fabian recalls that day as one of the last days that his Mama ever read to him before bed.

But that was alright, because he’s been fine with that for a while now. He knew even then when little boys grow up, their mamas don’t read them to bed anymore. 

When Fabian gets up for school that morning, he sees her when he glances out his window. Cathilda is patiently watering the rose bushes as she always does in the mornings and Mama is sitting in one of her kimonos, beautiful as always, but carrying with her the heavy weight of time. Time that has caused bags to form under her eyes, her frame to grow thinner and dull her eyes each passing day. Time that has aged her, with every sip of wine she takes from the glass in her hand. 

He turns away from the window.

Fabian’s morning routine is easy. It’s about a half hour of dancing, then he takes a cold shower to wake himself up. Usually, he would go straight to training afterwards, but his Mama has allowed him this single day without morning training. He takes another hour to do his hair and then his makeup. It’s nothing too fancy, just a bit of eyeliner and the tiniest amount of concealer. If it was too heavy, he would sweat it off during practice and Fabian Aramais Seacaster does not let his makeup run.

By the time Fabian heads downstairs, Cathilda is now cooking in the kitchen. She’s humming an old sea shanty, one that she’s sung for him time and time again as a child. When he walks by, he hums along with her, dancing around her to grab his green smoothie.

“Good morning, Master Fabian!” Cathilda greets him, shaking the frying pan. “Do you mind taking this plate to yer mother? She’s waitin' in the dining room.” 

“Good morning, Cathilda!” Fabian says proudly, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Of course, I can.” He scoops the plate up off the counter, carrying it to the dining room. Mama sits at the head of the table, where Papa used to sit. To her right is none other than Gilear, thankfully not in his father's robes again. Fabian tries hard not to fling the dish right at his head and keeps his shoulders up.

"Oh Fabian, my baby boy, how are you this morning? Off to that little adventuring academy again are we?" Mama says, nurturing a glass in her hand. 

"Morning Mama," Fabian greets, setting her plate in front of her. Mama puts down her drink to lovingly pinch his cheeks. He laughs, hoping she doesn't notice when he slides it further away. "I believe me and the boys are going to meet at Basrar's this morning before school, since we aren't training today."

"We stop training for one day and you're already eating ice cream for breakfast? Whatever will we do with you?" Mama teases with a wave of her hand. He takes the seat to her left, purposely not making eye contact with Gilear.

Here's the thing about Gilear. He may be the Chosen One, something that Fabian is willing to admit and even defend, however, Gilear is still Gilear, and Gilear is a sad, pathetic little man who did not deserve his Mama.

Fabian could admit that his Mama and Gilear did have some similarities, as they seem to be both inept at the simplest of tasks. That being said, Hallariel Seacaster was an accomplished and renowned fencer, who dashingly took his father's own eye. Gilear Faeth was an ex-diplomat who couldn't get the yogurt stains out of his shirt even with the highest levels of magic money could provide.

This isn’t how the story is supposed to go. After Fabian heroically killed his own father, his mother was supposed to find another adventurous and even in some ways, more deserving man. In the story, Mama does not end up with a man like Gilear, but with a man far better than maybe even his father ever was. Or perhaps, she remains a widow, vowing never to remarry because her love for her deceased husband is so strong.

And in the story, Fabian is supposed to feel proud for killing his father, laying the final blow that his Papa craved so adamantly. But all Fabian is left with is a vacancy, the same vacancy that still rests in his mother's heart. 

At times, it almost feels hereditary.

He stares down at his smoothie and thinks he hears Gilear say something to him, but it goes unaddressed. 

Fabian thought it would get easier after sophomore year. Seeing his Papa was a treat, surely. Knowing his father is having such a good time in Hell helps him sleep a little easier, but it’s not enough to snuff out the flames of guilt that still burn in his chest.

Ever since his Papa died, his mother used the sensory deprivation egg less and less. To Fabian’s surprise, it was his mother’s decision, with Cathilda helping her steadily ease out of it. Cathilda told him that if they were able to get her out of the egg, they might be able to move onto her sobriety. He still holds onto that hope, even on the harder days when his mother can only greet him after school and then retire to her room soon after. 

“You know she loves you with all her heart, Master Fabian.” Cathilda said to him one night. “People are complicated, ya see… Just because she’s struggling doesn’t mean she loves you any less.” 

Fabian comes back to reality when he hears his mother’s laughter. He downs the rest of his smoothie, a little too warm now, to distract himself. He pulls out his crystal to check the Boyz’ group chat. “Well Mama, I think I’ll be off!” Fabian says, getting up from his chair. 

“Off already, darling?” Mama asks him, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She’s barely touched her food. “Come here.” 

He leans down and lets her place a kiss on his cheek. “You have a good day, my boy.” She tells him. 

“Of course, Mama.” Fabian smiles at her, then nods his head. “Gilear.”

Gilear nods back. “I wish you a good day, Fabian.” 

He walks out of the dining room, giving Cathilda a wave before heading towards the front door.

“Hangman,” Fabian thinks. “Ready for the day?”

He hears the purr of the engine start up as soon as he closes his front door. “I am ready for anything, sire. Where shall we go?”

“Head to the Ball’s apartment. I’m picking him up this morning.”

“Hangman...” Fabian warns, watching him roll out of the garage in front of him. The Hangman revs in response. “We are picking up the Ball.” 

“Master, I remind you that the Ball no longer needs a ride to school.”

Fabian is sure if the Hangman could, it would sigh in disappointment. “Of course, sire.” He leans slightly to let him climb on. Then, Fabian revs the engine himself and tears down the street towards Strongtower Luxury Apartments. 

---

“Fabian, for the last time.” Riz starts, walking out of the apartment building. “I’m never gonna get enough driving hours if you keep giving me rides to school.”

Riz lost his hat after sophomore year, and thank goodness because Fabian didn’t have the heart to tell him it wasn’t going to work forever. He wouldn’t admit it to Riz, but he was quite fond of the way his hair fell. It seemed impossible to Fabian that Riz didn’t style it in any way, but one day while they were hanging out, Fabian spotted a bottle of all in one shampoo and conditioner and chucked it into the garbage can.  

Fabian laughs, putting a hand on his chest. “As if you would prefer to drive your mother’s car over a ride on the Hangman?” The Hangman revs underneath him for emphasis. He can see the smile creeping on Riz’s lips, so he keeps going. “Besides, everyone lies about their driving hours anyway. Who has the time to drive a whole forty hours both night and day? I certainly don’t.”

Riz looks like he’s about to protest, but instead his face spreads into a big smile. Fabian pats the Hangman’s seat victoriously. “Come on, The Ball. To Basrar’s.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Riz climbs onto the Hangman, situating his briefcase against his chest. Then, his arms wrap around Fabian’s torso tightly. “You aren’t always gonna be around to give me rides, you know. I should-- uh, probably learn how to drive at some point.” He says. It’s supposed to be casual, but in reality, Riz just dropped a whale sized weight on Fabian’s chest. It threatens to leave him breathless and not in a good way. 

Fabian revs the engine instead, letting the purr drown out his thoughts. “Don’t say stuff like that, Riz.” He says under his breath, before taking off down the road. He isn’t going to start thinking about this right now.

They are almost to Basrar’s when Riz shouts over the wind, “Oh hey, Fabian! Do you want to come over to the office after practice?” 

Fabian smiles. “Cracking another case, The Ball?” 

“You know it!” Fabian can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I always need someone to hold my string.”

Fabian feels the laughter bubble from his chest. “Yes, one of my many talents. Fabian Aramais Seacaster, holder of string!”

“It’s extremely crucial to my casework!” Riz adds. “I couldn’t solve them without it!”

Fabian feels Riz’s arms tighten around him and he lets out another laugh, pulling into Basrar’s. 

---

They walk into the cool air of the shop and see Gorgug sitting at a booth in the corner. He waves to them as they approach.

“Hey guys!” Gorgug greets, giving them a toothy grin. He’s hunching over, like always, with a pink milkshake in his hand. He always ordered strawberry with extra whipped cream.

“Hey Gorgug!” Riz greets, letting Fabian take the window seat. “Dude, I gotta tell you about this show I’ve been watching. It’s awesome.” 

“Oh yeah?” Gorgug says, sipping his milkshake. “Zelda’s been looking for more shows to watch, cause you know, all her parents watch is like those crazy reality TV shows.”

Fabian watches as Basrar floats over to their table. “Boys! Good to see you, and so early in the morning too. What can I get you?” 

Riz orders a weird concoction of chocolate mint, coffee, and pistachio ice cream topped with gummy bears and chocolate drizzle. Fabian never understood why the gummy bears had to be added to it, something that Riz no doubt picked up from Fig. The gummy bears become hard as rocks because the ice cream makes them too cold, but he’s been friends with Riz long enough to know he would eat almost anything. And so, Fabian orders a simple banana split with caramel sauce.   

By the time their ice cream gets here, Riz is already waist deep in the intricate world building of the tv show he’s been watching. The thing about Riz is that whenever he got really excited about something, he’d explain it so fast he’d have to keep back tracking and then return to his previous thought. It could get a bit confusing at times, but the Bad Kidz, at least Fabian, didn’t mind. They just made sure to ask a lot of questions. 

"Here's the real catch, though. It wasn't the butler, but it was actually--" Riz gets cut off by his crystal ringtone buzz loudly on the table. He grabs it immediately and presses it to his ear. A few moments pass before he says, "Mom? What's going on?"

Fabian immediately sits up straighter before Riz holds his hand out. "I'll be right back." He mouths to them, scooting out of the booth. Fabian watches as he walks out of Basrar's.

Gorgug plays with the straw of his milkshake for a moment."So… how are you and Aelwyn doing?" He asks innocently, because Gorgug would never ask a question he didn't want the answer to. Fabian suddenly feels a little sick, putting his spoon down.

"It-- uh, well--" Fabian is tripping over himself now. He hates when he gets like this. His thoughts race through his head and try to force themselves out his mouth all at once before he can even think of what to say.

"I--I get it, if that's like--" Gorgug stumbles a bit. "Too private or something, I just, you know, was wondering."

"No, no, it's fine, Gorgug. We just… broke up a few weeks ago."

"Oh." He says simply. "Why didn't you…"

"Say anything?" Fabian finishes for him. "I guess it was somewhat embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? Did she break up with you?" 

Fabian shrugs. "No, it was more mutual, if anything." He starts playing with his ice cream now, getting spoonfuls of caramel sauce and pouring it back into the bowl over and over again.

"Then why would you be embarrassed?" Gorgug presses. "I mean, my parents would say that's pretty mature."

"It just wasn't what I-- We? Expected it to be." Fabian admits. It feels weird to say it out loud after it's been rattling in his head for weeks. "I guess, maybe I expected it to be like you and Zelda. Two matches made in nerd heaven." 

"You know, not every relationship is gonna be perfect, Fabian." Gorgug reminds him. "Zelda and I get along great, sure, but that doesn't mean I don't fuck up every now and then or that I never get upset with her." He shrugs. "But that's a part of like, I don't know, loving someone. You guys kinda just get to figure stuff out together." 

"I guess Aelwyn and I never really tried figuring anything out together."

"Maybe you just expected too much from each other." Gorgug shrugs again. "Cause, you can't only love the best version of someone, you know?" 

Fabian opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, the front door jingles and Riz makes his way back to the booth.

"Sorry about that guys." Riz says, sitting back in the booth next to Fabian. "My mom needed to know where I put the law books I borrowed from her last weekend. Where was I?"

Gorgug responds, but not before casting a reassuring glance at Fabian. "Uh… I think you were about to tell us who the killer was, right?" 

Fabian can't tell if Riz notices and adds, "Oh yes, something about how it wasn't the butler?"

"Right, right!" He says excitedly. "Okay, so…"

He continues telling them about the tv show, which Fabian doesn’t mean to tune out of, but he can’t stop himself from thinking about Aelwyn. 

Their breakup had been mutual. They quickly realized that they simply weren’t compatible with one another. Fabian wishes he didn’t take it hard, but Aelwyn was technically the first girlfriend he ever had, and his first kiss.

Fabian was supposed to go straight to Fallinel, take on the Elven army and break Aelwyn out of imprisonment in a feat of gorgeous heroism. Which, if you left some parts out and moved a few things around, he did, technically. But then Aelwyn was supposed to be so impressed with his prowess that they would start dating, eventually get married out on the sea and then have beautiful children, born out of both Aelwyn and his exceptional talents. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. 

But when they actually got together, Fabian realized that he didn’t understand Aelwyn at all, and she didn’t understand him. They had both been through copious amounts of stress during sophomore year, with Aelwyn having to adjust to a new life without her parents, and Fabian having to grapple with the events of Leviathan and his own residual fears. It was just too much for them to sort out together, too many parts of themselves that they didn’t understand, so how could they ask the other to?

“You have this version of me built in your head, Fabian.” Aelwyn said to him. “Maybe, before all of this, I could have been that person for you. But, I’m not even sure who I am right now.” 

And he agreed with her, and that was that. 

Their crystals all buzz on their table, and Fabian reaches over to check the message.

figgy pudding: Hey losers, where you guys at? 

He types back. 

fabian: Basrar’s, be there soon.

“I guess that’s our cue, huh.” Gorgug says, gathering the dishes onto the table, like he always does. “Make sure to text me the name of that show, Riz, so I won't forget.”  

“Will do.” Riz replies, already sending the text to Gorgug. He gets up from the booth to let Fabian out and turns to him. “You ready to go?”

From the way Riz is looking at him, he can’t help but feel like he’s asking a different question, but he brushes past it. “Yeah, of course.” 

---

"Is something wrong?" Riz asks that night, because Riz is too perceptive for his own good and Fabian acknowledges that he hasn't said a word to him in over 10 minutes. “You were kinda acting weird today.” 

"Hm? Oh it's nothing, The Ball. Don't worry about it. What were you saying?" Fabian replies, sitting up a little straighter. 

They are sitting in Riz's office, with it's stale mugs of coffee and scattered evidence. If this was anyone else's office, Fabian would hate being here. Sometimes, Riz is so deep in a mystery it becomes cramped with case files and boxes, but it always feels good to be in a space that is truly lived in. It’s nothing like home, and maybe that’s why Fabian likes it. 

"You can talk to me, you know." Riz says, taking the red string Fabian's been playing with out of his hands. He pins a photo up on his corkboard.

Fabian doesn't respond. He knows he should, but at this moment, talking to his best friend seems like one of the hardest things he can do.

Riz notices this, and looks at him. "I know how you get. We don't have to talk about it." He runs a hand through his hair. "You, uh-- wanna watch a movie, maybe?"

Fabian blinks at him for a moment before replying, "You want to take a break?"

Riz laughs at that. "Come on, Fabian. I'm not that bad."

Fabian scoffs. "Please, you almost missed homecoming because you were here piecing together your clues." He gestures to the corkboard.

"And then I closed that case the same weekend." Riz says proudly, puffing up his chest a bit. 

Fabian smiles, then makes the mistake of looking down at the floor beneath them. He runs his fingers over the scratch marks carved into the wood. 

He tried to call and Riz didn’t pick up. Riz never ever misses his calls and his ringer is always on, so why wasn’t he--

Riz’s eyes go from soft to panicked almost immediately. “Hey, don’t do that.” He tells Fabian, pushing his hands away from the floor. “I, uh-- still need to get someone to fix those.”

“I could get someone to do it.” Fabian says immediately. Riz shakes his head.

“You know I wouldn’t let you.” 

“But I could.” 

“Fabian, it wasn’t your fault.” 

And when Riz says this, Fabian lets out a breath of air. 

Because he knows, deep down, the situation with Riz last year wasn’t his fault. But maybe if he had been a better friend and called more, or came around the office more, or had just been there when it happened... then Riz wouldn’t have to pay someone to replace his floorboards. Maybe, he wouldn’t have such a hard time looking at himself in the mirror.

“You aren’t the only one who fails, Fabian.” Riz continues, seemingly reading his thoughts. He sighs. “Y--You do this thing where you think you are the only person in the world who can do anything. The only person who can save the princess in the tower, the only person who can kill your father’s rival, like you are trying to hold the whole world up on your shoulders because you are Fabian Aramais Seacaster. And I get it, you know? I’ve had some pretty big shoes to fill myself.” He lets out a short laugh. “But, you don’t have to… prove yourself to me. Or to-- uh, anyone, really.”

“Riz, I--” Fabian’s words fail him, because figuring things out was always Riz’s job. He knows he will pay to get Riz’s floors done, because maybe Fabian didn’t have to prove himself to anyone, but as well as being a Seacaster, he was also Riz Gukgak’s best friend, and that he needed people to know. 

“It’s okay, Fabian, really it is.” Riz says, interrupting him. “I’m not gonna lie, you haven’t always been-- uh, a perfect friend. I know I haven’t either.” He shrugs. “But you always try to be, and that means more to me than you probably know.” 

Fabian reaches over and pulls Riz into the tightest hug he’s given since he got out of the Forest of the Nightmare King. He feels Riz tense up at first, but then his arms wrap around his neck. 

“You are my best friend.” Fabian says into Riz’s shirt, because if he doesn’t say this now the flames that stir inside his chest will burn the words to ash before they reach his mouth. It was easier to say when Riz wasn’t staring back at him, picking him apart. A habit that Riz could never shake, but sometimes, Fabian welcomed it. He didn’t have to say much, because Riz always just seemed to understand. 

Fabian has never had a best friend before. His family sailed so often when he was younger that it was hard to make friends with any of the kids. He was constantly being pulled out of school and thrown into the next. Every time he did so he would play his little charade of being Fabian Aramais Seacaster, impressing the children in his class, and then his family set sail once again.

Near the end of freshman year, Riz pulled Fabian aside to thank him for the briefcase and the business cards. Fabian had brushed it off, saying it wasn’t that big of a deal, but it took him hours to hand write all those business cards. Something that, to this day, Fabian still hasn’t told Riz. 

After that, Riz never stopped calling him his best friend, and Fabian quickly realized that Riz is one of the only people who had ever really tried to be his friend. He denied it at first, but eventually he came to accept it as a fact. 

And maybe it was the same for Riz too. Like Fabian, he didn’t like talking about personal issues. It wasn’t until sophomore year when Riz was finally able to talk about his dad in front of everyone. And much like Fabian and his own charade, he much preferred his role as a detective versus a teenage boy trying to figure the world out. 

But that was just it, wasn’t it? Because maybe, they could be two teenage boys trying to figure out the world together. 

And so, Fabian may not write his name upon the world. Every living being in Spyre may not know the name Fabian Aramais Seacaster, but he is okay with this. 

Because Fabian doesn’t always need to be the hero, the knight who saves the princess, or the son who kills his father’s rival. Because even when he’s not the hero, there are people who still love him. And to be a part of a story that continues to write itself, that is bigger than his own, with Riz and the rest of the Bad Kidz?

Fabian couldn’t think of anything else he would rather do. 

[cactusnymph]

Prompt fill #5 for @dimension20alphabet:

Escape

[part two to this]

Usually it goes like this:

 The Bad Kids eat lunch together in the cafeteria and otherwise Fabian doesn’t talk much to any of them over the course of his day. It’s not like he’s actively ignoring them, but he’s more on the side of the popular kids. The cool guys. The jocks.

 Meanwhile, the others—well, maybe except for Fig—don’t exactly fit the bill.

 Sure, Fabian would die for any of them, but somehow the social structures at school still feel restrictive in a way that gives him a hard time moving against them.

 Now though, now the unthinkable has happened.

 The Ball is ignoring him.

 Well, not as much as ignoring Fabian as he’s actively fleeing from him the second Fabian comes into view. At first Fabian thought that The Ball had just forgotten something in his locker when he turned around and ran—ran—in the opposite direction of Fabian.

 But it happens again during the first break and Riz is not at their usual table when Fabian joins the others for lunch.

 Everyone is looking at him.

 “What?”, he asks.

 His mood was bad all weekend. After the ridiculous dare he received on Theo’s party The Ball was nowhere to be seen. Both Adaine and Theo—Theo of all people, as if he was The Ball’s friend—followed him out of the room while everyone continued to stare at Fabian accusingly.

 Even Gorgug looked somewhat perturbed, like it was Fabian’s fault that a room full of people had chanted about him kissing The Ball. That hadn’t been his idea!

 “Hey man, you know, you could’ve said ‘no’ without making it sound like, you know, Riz was like, a slimy ghoul or whatever”, Ragh had said to him quietly.

 As far as Fabian knows, Theo and The Ball had ended up making out in one of the empty rooms or behind the house. Those pictures in his head didn’t lead to his weekend getting any better either.

 He trained way too much with his mother. He ate so many kippers that Cathilda asked him if he was feeling alright—which he wasn’t, but he couldn’t exactly explain why. He went for a run three times on Sunday and was still feeling on edge about everything that had happened.

 In the end he crashed on his bed with sore muscles and a scene of The Ball and Theo kissing playing on repeat in his mind that followed him into his dreams.

 And now his friends were looking at him as if he had personally murderer The Ball. With his bare hands. For fun.

 “Did you talk to Riz?”, Adaine wants to know.

 “No.”

 Silence answers him and he looks around the table.

 “What? He saw me in the hallway, turned around and ran away!”, Fabian exclaims angrily. His face is getting hot. He hates all this emotional bullshit and almost wishes he could just go back to being his father’s darling boy instead of his own man, because somehow that seemed way easier.

 “Oh no. Poor Riz”, Kristen says and Fabian almost loses his shit right there.

 Why is it ‘poor Riz’? Why is no one acknowledging what a shit weekend he had? And how fucking dumb that dare was? And how it’s offensive to consider that Riz and Theo made out behind the house while Fabian was being stared at like someone who strangles puppies? And also, he fucking hates it to be ignored.

 He is Fabian Aramais Seacaster.

 He refuses to be ignored!

 “Did you try to text him to apologize?”, Gorgug asks.

 Fabian stares at him.

 “For what?”

 “I mean. You know, because. He looked pretty hurt and like. Isn’t he your best friend?”, Gorgug says quietly and Fabian feels like someone has dropped an iron weight into his stomach.

 “I mean, I guess we’re friends, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that, you know—best friends is maybe a little—“

 A voice in his head whispers “Why would you say that, isn’t that a lie?” but Fabian doesn’t get to listen to it as Fig lowers her fork and looks past Fabian at someone right behind him.

 “Oh, no”, Gorgug says very quietly and Kristen gets up halfway from her chair which leads Fabian to turn around just to be faced with The Ball’s very pale and very unhappy face. For a split second Fabian has the opportunity to notice that Riz looks as if he hasn’t slept or eaten for the past two days, but then he notices Fabian looking at him and escapes immediately.

 “Okay, Fabian, I know talking about your feelings is super fucking hard and everything, but get a grip, man”, Fig snaps at him.

 “My feelings are perfectly fine, thank you”, Fabian grits through his teeth but he doesn’t touch the rest of his food and instead spends the rest of his lunch break cursing the universe for having The Ball turn up right at that moment when Fabian announced that them being best friends might be a bit of a stretch.

 Fabian never really had a best friend before.

 Fuck if he knows what that’s even supposed to mean.

 Riz always just went ahead and announced it to the whole world after they’d barely known each other for a week and back then it had been completely ludicrous.

 Now, though.

 Fabian doesn’t know.

 He might have announced that toxic masculinity is dead, but the truth is that it’s still hard dealing with all this emotional bullshit when no one ever really taught him how it works. And he’ll rather be shot than admit that. At least for now.

 It was hard enough to deal with the fact that he never really did anything on his own and was nothing but a pale shadow of his father, but now that he managed to work through that, everything else was still as difficult as before.

 And who the fuck are you supposed to talk to about these things?

 His father is a madman flying a dead dragon through hell.

 His mother heats up whole cantaloupes in hot pans, because she doesn’t even know how to cook some fucking scrambled eggs.

 Cathilda would probably know a thing or two about this stuff, but Fabian has yet to fully grow into the whole Cathilda-is-basically-his-surrogate-mother-and-not-just-his-maid-thing.

 And how is he going to explain this whole mess anyway?

 “Hey Cathilda, I went to this party and someone told me to kiss The Ball and I was like ‘No, that’s ridiculous’ and now everyone is acting like I’m a complete asshole and The Ball doesn’t talk to me anymore, which is quite frankly offensive, because he always says that I’m his fucking best friend.”

 Even to Fabian that sounds ridiculous. And it doesn’t take into account his obsessive thoughts about Theo and Riz kissing or how The Ball might have overheard Fabian saying that they’re not best friends. And his bloodshot eyes with dark shadows under them. And his pale green face with all those freckles.

 And...

 Fabian decides that school can suck his dick on this terrible Monday and he leaves the Aguefort Academy directly after lunch break instead of going to his fighter class.

 It’s not like he needs it, anyway.

 He could probably wipe the floor with his teacher at this point.

 On his way home he receives multiple text messages from his friends.

 “Hey Fabian, where are you? Are you okay?”, from Gorgug.

 “Just text him”, from Adaine.

 “Maybe Jawbone can help you out, he’s really good at this relationship stuff”, from Kristen.

 Relationship stuff?

 What relationship stuff?

 The Ball is not his boyfriend.

 Fabian laughs as he passes a mother with her two kids and she looks slightly concerned about his well being and tugs her children further down the sidewalk.

 What if The Ball wants Theo to be his boyfriend?

 Fabian stops in the middle of the road and stares at his phone. He doesn’t want to talk to Jawbone. Sure, Jawbone is cool and everything. But talking to Jawbone feels too much like admitting that he might have a serious problem, more so than if he maybe just talks to one of his friends.

 For a split second Fabian thinks that wants to talk to Riz until he remembers that that’s not possible right now.

 Because Riz doesn’t talk to him. And also Riz wouldn’t want to talk about anything related to kissing or—or—

 Fabian stuffs his crystal back into his pocket and turns a corner that leads him towards Mordred Manor instead of home.

 Ragh is outside in the vast garden of the manor, wearing a straw hat and some shorts and nothing else while he waters some plants.

 “Hey, what’s up, bro?”, he calls over to Fabian, turns the hose and hits Fabian square in the chest with a jet of cold water. It only takes a few seconds until he’s completely drenched.

 Ragh laughs loudly while he turns off the water and throws the hose down into the grass.

 “You good, man?”, Ragh asks as he walks over to him. Fabian feels like on any other day he might have simply punched Ragh in the face for getting his expensive sneakers wet, but today it just seems like maybe he deserved a shower of cold water.

 “Um—yeah. No. I don’t really know”, he says and his voice reminds him of the time when the whole Leviathan debacle went down. He clears his throat and wipes some water out of his face. “Do you—uh. Have some time to talk?”

 “Sure, dude. Let’s find a spot with a little more shade.”

 Fabian hates the feeling of water in his shoes, so he takes them off and follows Ragh through the garden and into the shade under a big maple tree.

 “What’s up, dude?”, Ragh asks and throws himself down into the ground, pulls the straw hat off his head and leans against the thick trunk of the tree. Fabian sits down cross-legged and puts his sneakers to the side.

 “So—uh”, he starts and then closes his mouth immediately because he hasn’t actually thought this through at all. Ragh looks at him curiously and Fabian wonders if there is a good and nonchalant way to ask the things he wants to ask. Instead of acting cool and composed how he wants to, what comes out of his mouth is:

 “Do you think The Ball and Theo made out?”

 There is a beat of silence in which Fabian considers just getting up and running out of the garden and into traffic. This was not what he is supposed to ask.

 This is not—

 “Dude”, Ragh says and he leans forward to look at Fabian. “You look like you’re about to puke, man.”

 Fabian doesn’t feel great. His chest feels like someone installed iron clasps around it and is pulling his ribs tight and his stomach is doing some acrobatics that it’s absolutely not supposed to do.

 Why did he ask this?

 And what if Ragh says yes?

 Why the fuck does it even bother him?

 The Ball can kiss whoever the fuck he wants!

 “I’m—sure. Fine. Yeah. It’s all—uh. Fine.”

 “Yeah, dude, no offense, but like, it doesn’t look particularly fine to me. So—what you’re asking me is. If Riz and Theo got it going after that whole Truth or Dare thing?”

 Fabian takes a deep breath, which seems particular hard for some reason. This is ridiculous.

 He’s Fabian Aramais Seacaster. He knows how to fucking breathe.

 “I—guess?”

 “Hm”, Ragh says and leans back again. “Not sure if that’s my story to tell, bro. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sorry you feel like shit, but, like. Isn’t that something you should talk to Riz about?”

 Fabian thinks that, if one other person tells him to talk to The Ball, he might actually commit cold blooded murder.

 “Great suggestion, seeing as to how he keeps running away from me like he’s afraid I’m going to breathe fire at him any second”, he growls and crosses his arms in front of his chest. Ragh sighs and cocks his head from side to the other.

 “Would it like, bother you if they actually had made out?”

 Fabian wants to snort and say “No”. What comes out instead is a garbled noise as his brain is bombarded with pictures about Riz and Theo kissing.

 “Woah, dude, okay”, Ragh says and he looks alarmed. “Breathe, man.”

 Fabian can do that. Breathing is really easy, except that it’s not.

 “Okay, dude, Imma just say it now, okay? It’s like ripping a band-aid off!”, Ragh says loudly, grips Fabian’s shoulders and stares at him very intently. “I think you’re totally into Riz.”

 Fabian’s brain feels like it’s suffering from a bad case of frostbite. His thoughts turn sluggish as he tries to process what Ragh just said, but it doesn’t make any sense. Fabian is not into The Ball. He’s not in love with Riz. That is insane.

 “Okay, so, hear me out, bro. Remember how I was totally in love with Dayne? And it took me like a million years to like, get that? Feels pretty similar to what’s happening with you right now, right? Because we’re like, these manly dudes and we’re supposed to be into hot girls and all that stuff, right? So it doesn’t really fit the picture, but it’s totally fine, dude. It’s all good. You can be in love with Riz.”

 Fabian blinks at him. He can hear the words and he can feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards as if to try to form into a grin.

 “Don’t be insane, Ragh. I’m not—That’s—“

 “It bothers you when he’s with other people because you’re fucking jealous, dude. I’ve been there, okay? And it’s like this weird thing of—you’re not allowed to be jealous because that’s fucking weird, right? Because that’s like, your best bro and everything. But then you keep obsessing about him making out with other people and then it’s like, okay, but what if he kissed me and then you feel really fucking bad, right? Because you’re brain shouldn’t go there?”

 For the very first time Fabian imagines what would have happened if he, instead of saying “No, that’s ridiculous”, had actually kissed The Ball.

 He thinks about Riz’ sharp teeth and how he keeps chewing on his bottom lip when he’s nervous and the second Fabian’s brain arrives at Riz’ bottom lip it feels like there is a dam inside his brain breaking.

 He imagines grabbing Riz and pulling him into his lap, pressing his lips against his and hearing Riz make a choked noise against his lips—

 “What the actual fuck.”

 Ragh lets go of his shoulders and nods.

 “Yeah, dude. Intense, right?”

 “But—why?”

 Ragh shrugs and rubs the back of his head with one of his hands. Somehow the cold water drenching Fabian’s clothing feels like a blessing now because his skin seems to be on fire.

 Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

 “Because, dude.”

 “But like—what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

 “I mean. Sounds to me like you should totally kiss your Ball, bro.”

 Fabian’s stomach does multiple somersaults.

 “But he’s not—into that kind of stuff.”

 Ragh chuckles.

 “Dude, I love Riz, I really do, but I feel like now that you figured this part of the whole deal out I can just tell you, that like. Riz doesn’t want to make out with Theo or pretty much anyone, right? Which is totally fine, bro, don’t get me wrong. But also, like. I’m a hundred percent certain that he would totally kiss you, man.”

 Fabian’s first response is “Of course he does, why shouldn’t he” but then his brain catches up and his skin starts to tingle.

 Maybe this is why kissing Aelwyn for the second time wasn’t really working out. Maybe this is what Aelwyn meant when she said “Well, I suppose we’re not a good match after all”.

 “Riz... wants to kiss me?”

 Ragh nods and grins.

 “Yeah, dude.”

 “Okay. Well—uh. I have to go.”

 “Don’t forget your shoes!”, Ragh shouts after him but Fabian doesn’t give a rat’s ass about his shoes as he takes off.

 Maybe he can unpack all of this shit later. Maybe he should actually talk to Jawbone. Maybe this is going to be yet another thing that makes him different from his father and as soon as he has some time to think it through he can maybe arrive at the conclusion that that isn’t a bad thing.

 At some point he stops running because he actually has no idea where Riz is. Is he still at school? At home? At his damn office? Fabian pulls out his crystal and hastily types a message to Riz.

 “Where are you???? We need to kiss!”

 He deletes the last word and types “talk” instead. Fabian watches with his breath held as three dots appear on his screen very shortly before they disappear again. He waits in the middle of the street, no shoes on, dripping wet. People passing him by look as though they’re concerned for his mental state but Fabian couldn’t care less.

 Maybe now is not the time to be manly about his feelings if he actually wants to fucking kiss his damn best friend.

 “I need to talk to my best friend”, he types.

 The dots reappear immediately.

 “at the office”

 Fabian stuffs the crystal back into his pocket, considers calling the Hangman to drive him over there but then decides that he doesn’t want to wait for him to arrive.

 The last time Fabian was in Riz’ office there was a terribly creepy doppelganger of Riz trying to kill him, but he pushes the thought to the side as he rushes into the building, dripping water everywhere as he heads up the stairs.

 Fabian doesn’t think he can manage another emotional talk today because the last one left him completely drained and exhausted, but the second that he spots Riz behind his desk ripping some papers in a nervous craze his heart leaps into his throat and goes into overdrive immediately.

 Fuck.

 He rips open the door and Riz flinches so hard that he sends all the papers flying. Then he stares at Fabian with his huge, yellow eyes.

 “Why are you wet? And where are your shoes?”, he wants to know, looking completely confused.

 “Doesn’t matter”, Fabian says, rounds the desk and grabs Riz by the shoulders. “We need to talk about Saturday.”

 Riz turns his face away and there is a dark green blush on his cheeks and the back of his nose. Now that Fabian knows what his damn problem is he realizes how fucking badly he actually wants to kiss Riz.

 “Oh—well. Yeah. Haha, weird, right? Don’t worry about it, it was totally ridicu—“

 “I should have done it”, Fabian interjects. Riz’ eyes grow impossibly wider.

 “Wh—what?”

 “I should have done it. Kiss you, I mean. We should have kissed.”

 Who would have thought that the son of the famous Bill Seacaster would die of a heart attack at the age of eighteen while wearing no shoes and dripping wet clothes.

 “Wh—why?”

 “Because I—“

 Fabian didn’t actually get that far in his head. He grabs Riz’ shoulders tighter and fuck, he can’t bring himself to say the words.

 “Because I don’t want you to kiss anyone else”, is what he manages in the end and he watches closely as Riz’ swallows and the dark shade of green on his face grows impossibly darker still.

 “Did you mean it?”, he asks quietly, his voice raspy and hoarse.

 “Mean what?”

 “That—in your text message. About—you know. Being best friends or whatever.”

 Fabian takes a deep breath.

 “Yeah.”

 Riz makes a very small “Oh” sound and then, all of a sudden, Fabian stumbles backwards with his arms full of Goblin. It occurs to him that this is the first time they actually hugged.

 “So—uh. Can I? Um—kiss you?”, he asks and his voice sounds like he swallowed a bunch of sand.

 “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

 It turns out that kissing someone you’re actually into is better than winning a Bloodrush game, better than dancing, better than pretty much everything he’s ever done before. Riz holds onto him as if his life depended on it and Fabian feels like he won’t let his best friend down anytime soon or he might just fall over and die.

 It occurs to him that this must be Riz’ first kiss and something inside him purrs contently at the thought of that as he lets himself sink down into Riz’ chair so Riz is sitting in his lap.

 “Thought you were into that Theo dude”, he mumbles against Riz’ lips.

 “’m not.”

 “Yeah, I get that now.”

 “I’m uh—pretty much only into you. So...”

 Fabian’s heart is doing a very silly little dance in his chest but all he can bring himself to say is “Yeah”. All the other words that he probably should say get stuck somewhere half the way up his throat because his heart is beating too fast.

 “So... no more Truth or Dare”, Riz says sheepishly.

 “No, definitely not.”

 “Cool.”

 Very cool indeed, Fabian thinks, as he kisses Riz again.

[amelia-pinches]

Days at Anubis

So here is the first one-shot

Majority of the ones I will write will be based off of @ron-stepupable‘s post (but also I will take requests. )

Warning: I’m not the best writer, and I haven’t written fanfiction since I was 13... so uhhhh take that as you want. 

AO3 

FF.net

based off of ron-stepupable: "Fabian having an efing backstory. Maybe some daddy issues so he can relate to the other boys (wow just realizing all the boys have daddy problems to some extent) like maybe just a distant father figure who's not really invested in his sons life. Idk but I want SOMETHING" Its set right after everyone finds out about Eddie being Sweetie's son, and Fabian tries to comfort him.

link to the post here: post/611405919847415808/things-i-wouldve-done-differently-in-hoa

Fabian stared at his roommate as he entered their shared room. Eddie was staring blankly at his computer with earbuds in his ears. He looked like he was crying heavily. There was a small frown on his lips; his hair was a dirty mess, and his eyes were bloodshot. 'He looks like hell' Fabian thought.

"Uh, mate...are you going to plug those in?" Fabian asked, breaking the silence.

Eddie, having been broken from his trance, looked up and stared at him in confusion. Fabian pointed to the end of the cord of his earbuds, which was laying on Eddie's lap.

"Oh. Uh...I, erm, don't need to... I have the music memorized, and, erm, can listen without actually listening.."

Fabian raised his brows at Eddie. Eddie sighed and bowed his head. He looked back up at Fabian, and mumbled, "Go ahead. Have your fun. Everyone else has."

Fabian chuckled and shook his head.

"I am not Jerome or Alfie. I'm not going to make fun of you for being sad...or for being 's son."

Eddie looked at Fabian in bewilderment. He just got him in such a vulnerable state, perfect for blackmail. All of his friends back home would have jumped at the chance to make fun of him. How come Fabian wasn't? Fabian offered him a weak smile. He understood what Eddie was going through as of late. .

"I'm serious. I know what it's like."

Eddie scowled, "Sure you do."

"I do," Fabian retorted, "and even if I didn't, I wouldn't make fun of you for being Sweetie's son. I have too many daddy issues of my own to make fun of someone else's."

Eddie furrowed his brows. He gave a low chuckle and tried to imagine exactly what daddy issues Fabian could have. Fabian was his father's dream kid. He was convinced that if Eric had the chance, he would trade Eddie for Fabian. Eddie rolled his eyes and whispered, "Sure, you do."

Fabian noticed the shift into the tense atmosphere. He knew that if he wanted to comfort Eddie, he would have to prove that he wasn't pitying him or playing him. Fabian shyly spoke up as he sat on his bed, "My dad hates how nerdy I am. He says it's too feminine. All he has ever wanted was a son that could kick a football without falling or getting nervous"

This caught Eddie's attention. He took out his earbuds, despite no sound coming through them at all, and looked at his roommate. Fabian was biting his cheek, hoping he didn't say the wrong thing. Eddie gave a low chuckle.

"Sounds like a dick."

"Aren't all dads? Sometimes they despise their sons because they aren't athletic enough, and sometimes they are the headmasters of prestigious British boarding schools."

"Bro…," Eddie snorted, "did you just make a joke?"

"It's been known to happen," replied Fabian in a monotone voice, "But, erm, bro...if you do need anyone to talk to, I am always here. After all, it's not like I can go anywhere."

Eddie smirked. He considered talking to Fabian; right now, he needed someone to talk to. However, could he really talk to Fabian? Would Fabian really care, or is he just saying it to be a good roommate.

"Thanks. I'll take you up on that offer after 10 and before you go on your little midnight adventure, so that way I can assure you won't leave. Just promise me you won't say 'bro' again."

Fabian rolled his eyes. Eddie was so much like Patricia in the sense they both wouldn't open up for the life of them. He turned to look at Eddie. Eddie looked less hopeless as before, but he definitely looked like he needed someone.

"The teasing will stop soon. You're cool, so most people will forget about this in a week. If not, they will be too scared of Patricia to continue."

Eddie tensed at the mention of Patricia. It was her fault he was in this position. Well, it was an accident, but she should have been more careful. Eddie mumbled in a low voice, hoping Fabian wouldn't hear.

"Patricia is the reason I'm in this situation. She'll probably egg them on."

Fabian gazed at Eddie. He felt bad for him. He knew Patricia never meant for this to happen, and she would have kept Eddie's secrets to her grave. But he also knew how it felt to be a target.

"You know…," started Fabian, "When I first came to this school, I was bullied a lot…"

Fabian sighed as he lowered his head and ran his fingers through his hair. Was he really about to tell his roommate about his traumatic early school days? He didn't think he had a choice.

"They used to call me names, and I would get pushed around a lot. Once, I was walking to the library, and these kids came up behind me. They shoved me in a locker, and I was there all night...I thought that if I tried sports, they would stop, and well, my dad would be proud of me. So that's what I did. I went to the football tryouts, and I did horribly. The bullying got worse, and my dad was pissed at me-"

"Shit, dude, I-I-I'm sorry-"

"I'm not finished...I thought I was done for, but my old roommate, Mick, found out about what was going on, and he was so angry. He couldn't believe that his teammates would be so cruel, and he couldn't believe none of the teachers did anything. To their defense, I don't think they noticed. Therefore, he wanted to take revenge in his own hands, and consequently, everyone in the school found out. I was so embarrassed, and I was terrified everyone was going to think I was a pussy or something-"

Fabian put his finger up to shut Eddie up before he could interrupt again. Eddie laughed quietly, and muttered, "Sorry, It's just weird to hear you say 'pussy'. It's weird to hear you cuss in general."

Fabian rolled his eyes, "Will you let me finish? After Mick's rampage, nobody bothered me again. Eventually, I started to make friends, and people respected me. I know how it feels when the whole school is against you. You feel like you can't trust anyone, and you feel so alone. You retreat into your head and anxiety takes over. You hate waking up in the morning, and you wish something would just save you. All you want is a shoulder to cry on, but you can't allow yourself to ask for help because you don't know their intentions… I don't want you to pity me because I was a loser. But I do want you to come to me. You obviously need someone to talk to right now…"

Fabian trailed off as he looked down. Eddie glanced over to Fabian as he digested what his roommate just told him. There was a pregnant pause between the two teenage boys. Neither knew what to say as the uncomfortable silence dragged on. Eddie spoke up in a quiet voice.

"I'm kinda glad everyone knows, ya feel? I wish it wasn't like this. But I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I don't have this nervous feeling of people finding out or saying the wrong thing. I guess I just wish people didn't...care as much. I like my dad as much as they do. That's why I did all those pranks against him. Well, one of the reasons, but that's not the point. I just wanted him to notice me. I wanted him to care about me. Hell, they know more about my father than I do. Sure, he is my biological father, but in no way is he my..actual father. He has been more of a father to the kids here than he has to me."

Fabian glared at the floor after Eddie's confession. "They care because it makes them feel better," comforted Fabian.

"Well yeah, who can miss the chance of fucking with the principals son?"

"No, I mean, when they pick on you, they deflect from their own issues. Look at Alfie. Last year, Alfie had to lie to his father and act like an entitled jackass just so he could get his father's approval. When he makes fun of you, he makes him feel better about his own asshole father. Everyone who goes to this school has some sort of issues with their parents. Even if their parents are straight out of a parenting textbook, they hold resentment towards them for sending them here. Nobody likes to talk about it, but we all know it."

"The UK is fucked up, man."

Fabian gave Eddie a confused look as Eddie silently laughed.

"The UK is fucked up? A-A-And America isn't?"

Eddie burst out laughing, and soon Fabian joined in. The two boys laughed loudly before dying down into a lull.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. America is pretty fucked up, but the UK is just as bad.. but you were wrong about one thing. You aren't a loser, dude. To be fair, you aren't as cool as me, but who can be as cool as me? Regardless, you are still kinda cool."

"Oi, fuck off, Eddie!"

Fabian threw his pillow at Eddie's head as Eddie was roaring. Both boys looked at each other for a moment before being interrupted by Victor's voice, "It is 10 o'clock! You have 5 minutes precisely, and then I want to hear a pin drop!"

Eddie looked over to Fabian. "Well, night. Try not to wake me up when you go off to play your midnight game of hopscotch," he said, emphasizing hopscotch with a faux English accent.

Fabian mumbled him a goodnight and laid down. His mind drifted to sibuna. He didn't know how they were going to finish these tasks, but he knew they would. They would have to; there was no choice. As he got up to leave, he looked towards Eddie, who was now sound asleep in his bed. 'Patricia has good taste," thought Fabian before he left his room and headed upstairs.

[sleepingdragon-rp]

DRAGON POX HAS COME TO HOGWARTS ---

As of 10 am of the afternoon of Thursday, 2 April, Hogwarts has officially reported its first case of Dragon Pox in one hundred years. While the patient has been escorted to St. Mungo’s and treated with only the finest of care, the castle cannot ignore the threat of such a contagious disease. Hogwarts castle will be cleaned from tower to dungeon, from ceiling to floor, to eradicate any contagious germs that may have been left behind by the affected patient.

Unfortunately for students, that means that, in the meantime, they will be quarantined immediately. Everyone will be escorted by the staff into the nearest location in the castle that has seen no contact with the Dragon Pox patient in the past week. For the next 30 hours, students will have their food delivered to their quarantine site by the usual means, as well as accommodations for sleep when the time arrives.

If you believe yourself or one of your peers to be exhibiting any symptoms of Dragon Pox, contact a professor via the emergency only owl located in your quarantine location.

OOC Information ---

IC the quarantine lasts from approximately 10 am on Thursday, 2 April, to 4 pm on Friday, 3 April. OOC, you may make starters for this plot drop from now through Monday, 6 April, 11:59 pm PST.

If your character is missing, it is either because they are part-time, assumed to be off campus, or were simply overlooked. So if you would like one of those rules to be included, just shoot me a message, and we’ll find them a spot. Alternatively, if there is absolutely no way in freshly frozen purgatory that your character would be where they were placed, shoot me a message, and we’ll find a way to fix it.

Groups below the cut!

Group One: Hogwarts Library

The Restricted Section is, well, restricted still. Students have free reign of the library, but will be asked to sleep in the Muggle Studies section only.

Quarantined Students: 

Alecto Carrow @c-alecto

Amycus Carrow @theworstcarrow

Asher Avery @asheravery

Daphne Davenport @daphnedavenport

Josslyn Janks @jankyjosslyn

Mary Macdonald @marymacdonaldhadafarm

Rodolphus Lestrange @doctorlestranges

Than Chadwick @thanthemans

Tiberius McLaggen @tiberiusmclaggen

Group Two: Kitchens

As the kitchens are responsible for feeding the rest of the castle during this delicate window of time, quarantined students have been given the back third of the kitchen to work with. Of course, they can still ask a House Elf for assistance should they be lacking in basic necessities.

Quarantined Students:

Andromeda Black @andromedaatnight

Bellatrix Lestrange @bellathicclestrange

Gilbert Selwyn @gilbert-selwyn

Iris Selwyn @irisselwyn

Jana McLaggen @janamclaggen

Marlene McKinnon @marlenethemenace

Regan Higgs-Weasley @reganweasley

Ted Tonks @tonkstedtalk

Group Three: Rouge Staircase

This particular staircase shut down as students were on their way elsewhere, leaving them stranded without the aid of other staircases around them. The staircase will move from time to time, although unhelpfully.

Quarantined Students:

Alice Shafiq @shafiqalice

Amathera Zabini @amatherazabini

Bastian Bott @bastianbott

Jennifer Burke @jenniferburke

Lily Evans @weewxtch

Mason Boot @masonboot

Molly Macmillan @mollymacmillan

Nola Fawley @nolafawley

Group Four: Hagrid’s Hut

This was deemed the safest location for students spread across the grounds at the time of quarantine. Tragically, Hagrid was inside the castle at the time of quarantine, leaving his hut locked (with an infantile Fang howling inside).

Quarantined Students:

Agatha Timms @aggietimms

Dorcas Meadowes @dorcasisntdeadyet

D.W. Widdow @deedoubleiddow

Fabian Prewett @fabiansacharmer

Gawain Robards @goldenrobards

Natalya Greengrass @natalyagreengrass

Percy Robards @percivalrobards

Vivian Travers @viviantraversing

Group Five: Arithmancy Corridor

While students were initially meant to have full access to the corridor at large, the remembrance that the affected patient had been there for a studying section earlier in the week caused them all to be shuffled into Professor Dearborn’s office.

Quarantined Students:

Caradoc Dearborn @dickdowndearborn

Cecily Beckett @cecilybeckett

Eyen Sosa @eyenscloset

Gideon Prewett @gideonprewonder

Pandora Lanchance @rohmantiq

Penny Tyler @pentyler

Rosalind Nott @rosalindnott

Sturgis Podmore @sturgispodmore

Wendy Lestrange @wendythestrange

Group Six: Owlery

Don’t worry, the birds don’t bite. At least not when they’re well fed. By people who are currently in quarantine elsewhere in the castle. Oh, dear...

Quarantined Students:

Amelia Bones @liabones

Bertha Jorkins @berthajorkinss

Bertie Higgs @bertiehiggz

Emma Vanity @youresovanity

Emmeline Vance @emmelionvance

Remus Lupin @x-remus

Sirius Black @messrsblacks

Tolkien Wilde @tolkienwildeboy

Group Seven: Hospital Wing

It was considered that these students might be better off moving to another location for quarantine, but as they’d already been exposed before the doors to the Hospital Wing were locked---well, it would just be irresponsible to let them leave, wouldn’t it?

Quarantined Students:

Cyrus Greengrass @greengrassisgreener

Davey Gudgeon @daveygudgeon

Edgar Bones @edgarboned

Frances Bletchley @francesbletchley

James Potter @jamespooper

Narcissa Black @narcissablack-x

Peter Pettigrew @pterpettigrew

Zoe Bell @rocketshipbell

Group Eight: Potions Corridor

Students in the potions corridor have access to that and only that: the corridor. All classrooms, offices, and storage closets have been locked.

Quaratined Students:

Adrian Vallancourt @adrianvallancourt

Barty Crouch Jr. @bartycrouchjunior

Benjy Fenwick @notbenjyfenwick

Bilius Weasley @biliusbby

Briar Pritchard @briarpritch

Hattie Hathaway @skyehathaway

Hestia Jones @hestiajonesx

Hollie Hopkirk @holliehopkirk

Lucius Malfoy @ccnqueror

Group Nine: Muggle Studies Corridor

More specifically, Professor Egg’s office and adjoining live-in suite.

Quarantined Stuents:

Aiden McLaggen @aidenmclaggen

Danny Geist @dannygeist

Dawn Withey @dawnwitheyy

Frank Longbottom @franklongbooty

Marceaux Travers @xtravers

Nicholas Mulciber @mulcibers

Prija Avery @prijaavery

Zelda Nettles @zeldanettles

[aidanchaser]

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents

Chapter Eight The Potions Master

The next morning at the Great Hall, the students were treated to a breakfast that was not as elaborate as the feast the night before, but was just as bountiful. Harry helped himself to toast and eggs while Ron reached for a sausage and the owls swooped into the hall.

It was a fascinating sight. Hundreds of owls swirled over the students’ heads in the enchanted sky, dropping letters and parcels to their intended recipients. Hedwig stood out among them, snowy white, and swooped down with a small letter for Harry. She picked at his eggs while he read it.

“Dear Harry,

We’re hope you’re settling in all right. Don’t feel rushed to write back, since we’re sure you’ll be busy with your school work, but your father and I would love to hear how your Sorting went. Wherever you end up, we know you’ll do well.

We miss you terribly at home, of course. It’s not the same cooking for two as it is for three, and the house is so quiet. Your father can’t make enough noise for the both of you.

Write to us when you have time.

With love, Mum and Dad”

Harry scribbled, “Gryffindor,” on the back of the letter and tied it to Hedwig. She snatched the corner of his toast before taking off, and Harry and Ron rushed off to Herbology.

Professor Sprout was a sweet lady, but didn’t tolerate any messing around. She lectured them for over an hour on proper safety in the greenhouse, from dragonhide gloves to enchanted goggles before finally having them take out a parchment for notes. There was no practical work.

After Herbology was History of Magic — the most boring class Harry could imagine. The ghost professor droned on and on and it took all he had to stay awake long enough to take any notes. At least if he and the rest of the boys in his dormitory pooled their notes, they nearly had the whole lecture.

On Tuesday, Harry received another letter from his parents.

CONGRATULATIONS! was written at the top, clearly his father’s penmanship.

We’re so proud, Lily’s handwriting continued, and we know you’ll do well. Gryffindor is a wonderful house. Hope you’re adjusting well to your classes and learning a lot!

Write to us when you can.

With love, Mum and Dad

P.S. Check under your bed for my name. We left our mark before we graduated. You could be in my bed!

Harry gave some of his toast to Hedwig and she hung around him and Ron for the rest of breakfast, before flying back up to the owlery while they went to Charms.

The second day of getting to class wasn’t any better than the first. People were constantly whispering wherever he and Ron went, trying to get a glimpse of him. Harry wished they would let him be. He didn’t know what he’d done any better than they did. From what his parents had said, it was a fluke of some sort. He was having enough trouble just getting to his new classes, and the changing staircases weren’t help.

Charms, however, wasn’t too hard to find. Professor Flitwick — short stature, and easily excitable — toppled over when he saw Harry Potter on the register. Harry rather wished he wouldn’t.

Transfiguration was exactly the opposite. Professor McGonagall looked as stern as she had that first day she led them into the Great Hall. She did not give Harry a smile, or pause before calling his name when taking attendance. She proceeded with class like it was any other group of first year students. And though he was relieved McGonagall didn’t treat him differently, Transfiguration was unfortunately difficult. He had trouble grasping the complicated theories, and when she had them turning matchsticks into needles, Harry couldn’t seem to make it do much of anything. He had no idea why this was his father’s favorite class. At least the rest of the class didn’t do too well either. It was only Hermione who managed to give her matchstick a silver sheen.

On Wednesday morning, Hedwig brought him another letter.

“Blimey, Harry, does your Mum ever lay off?” Ron had gotten just one letter from his mother, congratulating him on making Gryffindor and encouraging him to do well in his classes.

“This isn’t from my Mum,” Harry said with a grin, immediately recognizing Sirius’s large and excessively curled handwriting on the parchment envelope.

Harry!

James told me you made Gryffindor! Congratulations. I knew you had it in you. Did you look under your bed yet? James, Remus, and I all left our names under the beds. You could be in mine.

Write soon. I want to hear how your year is going!

Love, Sirius P.S. Have you met Professor Snape yet? Tell him I said hello.

“Snape’s Potions, right?” Harry asked Ron as they got up for another day of classes.

“Yep. When’s that again?”

“Friday. With the Slytherins,” Harry sighed.

But for now, they had Herbology, History of Magic, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Harry had been excited for Defense against the Dark Arts. He knew it was a class his parents excelled in. But his excitement was dashed when he met Professor Quirrell, a very nervous man. He stuttered a lot and told them all disjointed stories. They hardly had any practical lessons. Most of it was lecture, and even when someone asked an interesting question — like what happened to the zombie in Africa or was there really a vampire in Romania — he would only stutter a vague answer and change the subject.

On Thursday morning, after a midnight Astronomy class, Harry was greeted with two letters. They were brief, and both generally communicated the same thing.

Dear Harry,

Congratulations on getting into Gryffindor. We’re all so proud of you.

I’m sure your father already told you, but the four of us left our names under our beds. The beds have probably been replaced since then, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

I know Sirius told you to mention him to Professor Snape. Do not do that. Please. It would not do well to start off the year with any of your professors badly.

With love, Uncle Remus

And the second was like it,

Dear Harry,

Please do not mention Sirius to Professor Snape. They have a bad history, and while Sirius may think it was funny, you would not have seen the humor — and neither would Severus.

Hope your classes are going well and you’re settling in just fine. I know they’re feeding you properly, but your father and I still worry. We hope to hear from you soon, but your classes come first.

With love, Mum and Dad

“Professor Snape’s first name is Severus?” Ron asked when Harry told him why he’d gotten two letters that day.

Harry shrugged. “Professor McGongall’s is Minerva. Maybe all teachers have to have fancy names.”

“You’re the one with uncles named Remus and Sirius,” Ron laughed.

Harry grabbed his bag and grinned, “And you have Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon.”

They were laughing at each other, exchanging weird names from their families — Bilius, Linfred, Iolanthe — as they headed to Transfiguration and subsequently took a wrong turn. The door they expected to be open was locked, and suddenly Mrs. Norris and Filch were berating them for trying to go down the forbidden corridor. Harry and Ron tried to say they were only lost, but Filch wouldn’t hear of it. It was only Professor Quirrell, passing by on his way to his lesson that saved them and set them on the right staircase (facing the right direction) to Professor McGonagall’s classroom.

Afterward was Herbology again. Three times a week. At least, this time, Professor Sprout let them get their hands dirty by showing them how to properly plant a Snare Devil.

After lunch, they had another History of Magic lecture that Harry could not stay awake through, a Charms lesson where they were actually allowed to use their wands, and finally their day was done.

Harry very nearly wrote a letter to his mother and father that night, but was too exhausted by the time he and Ron got back to the dormitory. They hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, after their midnight Astronomy class, so nearly all the first years were asleep as soon as they got back from dinner. Only the most determined managed to scribble out a few lines of their first Transfiguration assignment.

The next morning at breakfast, Harry didn’t receive a letter from Lily or James or Sirius or Remus. He knew that he would have to respond to them after Potions.

Harry did, however, receive a letter with unfamiliar handwriting. It was very soiled parchment, smeared in dirt, and the ink ran, like the quill had been dipped too heavily into the inkwell

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send an answer back with Hedwig.

—Hagrid

His family could wait a little longer for a letter. Harry was curious about this giant-of-a-man and how it all tied into the story behind his scar. If Hagrid was as close to his family as Sirius, close enough to be there the night he got his scar, why had he never met Hagrid? He hardly remembered his parents mentioning him.

Harry quickly wrote, Sounds fantastic. See you later, on the back of the note and sent it off with Hedwig.

Thank goodness he had something to look forward to after Potions besides responding to letters and doing more homework, because Potions turned out to be the worst class in the history of the wizarding world.

Harry didn’t understand why Snape disliked him, but it was definitely there, and it wasn’t just dislike. It seemed more like an unfathomably deep loathing.

To start, class was in the dungeons. Anyone who preferred to hold their class in the dungeons was either really exciting and interesting or really dark and creepy. Snape was decidedly the latter. The glass jars filled with animal parts soaking in fluorescent green liquid did nothing to abate the creepy atmosphere. Neither did Snape’s dry, drawling voice as he went through the register. And Snape, like so many professors before, paused at Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity.”

A handful of the Slytherins in the class chuckled and Harry whipped around, but Malfoy looked innocent — smug, but innocent.

Snape finished roll call without any other comment, and began his class right away without introducing himself.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making.” At the least, he knew how to hold an audience with a dramatic voice. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the sense…. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Harry was at first enthralled by but then quickly put off by this over-dramatic display. He realized he already had a preference for McGonagall’s straightforward approach of, “This class is interesting but difficult so pay attention.” He also definitely didn’t appreciate the dig at the class’s intelligence — they were all of them only first years. Maybe Harry’s disapproval showed on his face, because Snape singled him out.

“Potter!” said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added leaves of a pheasant’s eye to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry didn’t know there were leaves in pheasant’s eyes. Or was pheasant’s eye a type of plant? And wormwood — wasn’t that for stomach aches? He glanced at Ron for help, who shrugged, but Hermione’s hand shot in the air.

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry said.

Snape’s sneered.

“Tut, tut — fame clearly isn’t everything. Let’s try again, Potter. What would happen if I properly added marigold petals to a sleeping potion?”

Hermione seemed to know the answer to that too, but Harry couldn’t say he remembered coming across that potion in his textbooks. He could hear Malfoy and his cronies laughing behind him. He tried to ignore them, but he felt the tips of his ears turn pink.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh Potter?”

Harry stared straight back at Snape and held in every sarcastic retort that pressed on the tip of his tongue. It was one thing to sass back his mother and father or Sirius when they were making him mad. There was usually another adult to intervene. But this — this was a teacher, at school, and Remus had encouraged him to get along with his teachers. But was it really his fault Snape was being so impossible?

“What’s the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Harry knew wolfsbane was also called aconite, but he’d never heard of monkshood before.

Hermione, however, looked like she might rocket out of her seat at any minute.

“I don’t know,” Harry said and couldn’t help it — “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?” He heard Ron and Dean Thomas chuckle on either side of him. He caught Seamus’s eye and Seamus winked. Snape was not amused.

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information, Potter, pheasant’s eye and wormwood are the main ingredients in a potion for relaxing anxiety. Marigold in a sleeping potion can have the side effect of prophetic visions while sleeping. And for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

Everyone scrambled for quills and parchment, and Harry quickly wrote down what Snape had said.

“And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”

Harry was glad he hadn’t said any of the other things he’d been dying to spit back at Snape, and instead just scribbled, “Snape is gross and greasy,” in the margins of the notes and scribbled a rather grotesque caricature of Snape with an over-exaggerated hook-nose for the course of the lecture.

After the lecture was the practical lesson, and they were all paired off to construct a simple potion to cure boils.

Harry worked with Ron, and they used Ron’s notes while Harry tucked his back in his bag, since Snape was walking around examining their work. Unfortunately, Ron’s notes weren’t quite as useful as Harry’s would have been. On occasion, when Snape wasn’t looking, Harry sneaked a glance at Hermione’s notes, to make sure they were properly weighing ingredients. Her notes were impeccable.

Snape was busy praising Malfoy’s potion, telling everyone it was stewed to perfection, when a green smoke and loud hissing came from the Gryffindor side of the room.

All the Gryffindors leapt onto their stools as a thick green sludge melted through Seamus’s cauldron and started eating holes into student’s shoes. The only student who wasn’t standing on his stool, who had the unfortunate mishap of spilling the failed potion all over himself, was Neville. He began to whimper in pain as boils sprung up all over his skin.

“Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, and the potion was gone with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Neville only moaned back.

“Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape spat at Seamus. Then he turned on Harry.

“You — Potter — why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Ron kicked him.

“Don’t push it,” he hissed. “I’ve heard Snape can turn very nasty.”

An hour later, when they left the dungeon, Harry felt like he was going to spill over with anger and guilt. Anger at Snape, but also guilty that he’d lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week.

He couldn’t understand why Snape hated him so much. But then again, Snape seemed to like Malfoy, so anyone with that bad taste probably didn’t need logical explanations.

“Cheer up,” Ron said. “Snape’s always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?”

After lunch, they left the castle and crossed the grounds to Hagrid’s hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. When Harry knocked on the door of the hut, there were loud barks and a scrabbling noise.

They heard Hagrid shouting, “Back Fang!” before the door opened.

He opened it only just enough for the two boys to slip inside while he held his large mastiff at bay.

The hut was only one room. Food hung over the fire alongside a boiling kettle. The centre of the room was consumed by a large table with a few chairs, and against the wall was an enormous bed. There wasn’t much else in the small hut, and there wasn’t room for much else besides.

“Make yourselves at home,” Hagrid said, and let go of Fang. The dog was large with slobbering jowls, but when it jumped at Ron, it only licked him. For all his size, he wasn’t vicious in the least. Harry may have grown up with a cat, but he was certainly no stranger to very large dogs.

“This is Ron,” Harry introduced them, as he sat down onto a very large chair.

“Another Weasley, eh? I’ve spent half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest. How many more of yeh are there?”

“Just one,” Ron said as he glumly tried to wipe Fang’s slobber off with his robes.

Tea with Hagrid was the most unpleasant meal Harry had in a long time, but the most pleasant conversation he could have asked for. The rock cakes were impossible to eat, and the tea was stronger than any Harry had tasted, but Hagrid listened to their woes about the week with the appropriate amount of sympathy. He even called Flich, “that old git.”

“An’ as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I’d like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D’yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can’t get rid of her — Filch puts her up to it.”

The only thing Hagrid couldn’t seem to sympathize with them on was Snape. When Harry insisted Snape hated him and had it out for him, Hagrid only said, “Snape hardly likes any of the students.”

“But he seemed to really hate me.”

“Rubbish! Why should he?”

Harry frowned and folded his arms over his chest. Hagrid was hiding something. Everyone was hiding something from him and he was rather tired of it.

In a completely subtle change of topic, Hagrid asked Ron, “How’s yer brother Charlie? I liked ‘im a lot — great with animals.”

While Ron talked to Hagrid about Charlie’s work with dragons, Harry glanced around the small hut.

There wasn’t a whole lot to take in. He picked up a scrap of paper from under the tea cozy and realized it was actually a newspaper clipping.

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST read the headline.

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. ‘But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,’ said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Harry knew about the break-in, but why did Hagrid have a clipping of it? Judging by the size of this hut, Hagrid didn’t have an account in Gringotts. Or if he did, no one was breaking into it to steal anything. He did remember Hagrid saying something about Hogwarts business in Diagon Alley on his birthday. And he’d had that package and key with him….

“Hagrid? You didn’t break into Gringotts on my birthday did you?”

“What? No, of course not Harry. What makes yeh say that?”

“You were there the day it happened. Was it that little package that wasn’t my birthday present? And you had a key — was it for a vault in Gringotts? What was it you took out? Was that what someone wanted to steal?”

Hagrid did not answer any of those questions and offered him another rock cake. Harry thought that was almost answer enough.

The boys walked back to the castle as the sun started to set, and Harry could not help but turn over the conversation every way he could. What was the package? How did it link to Hogwarts? Why did someone want to steal it? And, most importantly, what weren’t people telling him about Snape?