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softbookboi · 5 years

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Lovesick Schoolgirl (a snowbaz fanfic) Chapter 1

Summary: Baz is sitting in class and starts doodling all kinds of Snowbaz stuff in his notebook. When he’s snapped out of his musings and realises he’s doing it, he starts blushing. And then - curse his luck - the teacher calls on him to answer a question. He just starts blubbering and stammering and since Simon is there, its even worse. After class, he’s visited by Simon before he can sneak off to their room to take a nap and Simon insists of Baz telling what he was writing in his notebook because he thinks that Baz is plotting something. Baz refuses but Simon grabs it and before he’s able to open it, Baz lights it up on fire and then watches it burn to ashes. After Baz leaves, Simon becomes hell-bent on figuring out what was in that notebook.

Baz

I think I'm dying.

This lesson is so boring that I feel like watching Snow try to cast a simple spell without messing it up would be more interesting. (Of course, that definitely would be more interesting. Snow looks adorable when he’s trying hard to concentrate. He bites his lip, then sticks his tongue out, which looks so perky and dainty and cute, like a small child. I would be delighted to watch him try to cast a spell. Any spell.) (Merlin, could I get any more pathetic?)

I'm currently sitting in Miss Possibelf’s class, trying not to dose off. I normally quite like her class, she’s a good teacher and I get to see Simon try to cast spells, but today, the lesson (that I’ve already learned before), her ridiculous way of teaching it (she’s literally doing it so wrong that it’s going to take our class a week to master this spell) and the fact that I didn’t get enough sleep last night because I was down in the Catacombs draining rats for a long time (I hadn’t drunk in so long, I felt as if I were about to pass out) all combined together are making me hate this lesson.

I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open but I can feel the occasional magic drifting off of Snow which means that he keeps giving me surreptitious-but-not-so-much glances which are basically a siren to pry my eyes open for the rest of the class. I have a free period after this, I could go to my room and nap. But right now, I need to concentrate on staying awake and alert because the slightest little slip-up could send Snow on one of his absurd plans on making me reveal what I'm ‘plotting’ to him. Oh, that poor, beautiful boy.

I'm sure he was awake when I came back last night. I could recognize the pattern of his breathing as the one when he’s awake. He didn't say anything but I know the gears in his head were turning and he must've figured that I would be out drinking.

I can't really seem to believe that properly though. Whenever Snow deduces something related to me or my vampirism, I can't really seem to believe it. He infers that but still can't seem to infer the biggest thing that'll make killing me much easier.

I sometimes think about it. Him finding out about my feelings for him. The thoughts terrify me but he also might find them useful to him. He would know how pathetic I was and use that as a way to weaken me when we're at war with each other. (Of course, he's going to win either way. He’s the hero. I love him. I'd die willingly for him.) (But he doesn't need to know that.)

But I still do like to think about him. It's impossible not to. He's always there. In front of me, beside me, behind me, alive and breathing and carrying on. It's impossible not to act like a lovesick little 3rd Year girl and think about his brown locks or his blue eyes or his cute, scrunched nose when he's trying to open up a box or something. How can I not? These are feelings and I can't push them down no matter how much I want. (I want to. I want to so bad.)

I hate imagining him coming near me with a soft look. Pulling me into a hug. Snogging me until I've forgotten how to function. Holding my hand. Loving me back.

I hate imagining this. So much. It just reminds me of the fact that Snow hates me. He will never love me. He’s not even going to be my friend, I ruined any chance of that when I started being a git to him in 1st Year. I was 11 years old! What was I supposed to know about feelings and that mushy gushy stuff? All I knew was that there was a beautiful boy with bronze locks and blue eyes holding out a hand to me, offering peace and unity between us...and a chance to be his friend. But the butterflies in my stomach and the remembrance of that I was supposed to be this boy’s enemy caused me to make irrational decisions.

Perhaps if I had become his friend I would've known all his abysmal qualities (not that he’d have any) and not liked him because of them. Of course, that would mean that I was a horrible person but still. (I am a horrible person, though. A monster. A vampire.)

The amount of time I spend thinking about what my life could've been like if I were his friend is just ridiculous at his point. It's not like there would be a big change. I would still have to fight him. But at least we would be a bit nice to each other, or at least not fight all the time. That would've been big for me, though. Anything with Snow is big for me.

I wish I had taken his hand. Merlin, I wish I had so fucking much.

All this thinking about Snow just darkens my good even more and I feel him staring at me right now, so I look over and give him my best glare. (Only the best for Snow.)

He gives one back and I imagine him smiling at me instead. Smiling at me with admiration in his eyes. Admiration. Love. I'm feeling lightheaded now and just want to go to my comfortable bed in my room and take a long and comfortable nap.

This is another side-effect of thinking about Snow like this. As cheesy as it sounds, it makes me physically ache because I know it won't ever be true. Ugh, I'm becoming a sap because of him. And I can't think properly.

Snow’s done this to me. Why do I love someone who’s made my all my self-preservation and control go to hell? Aleister Crowley, couldn't I have found some other boy - or girl - to love? Life would be so much easier. Everything would be so much easier. But, of course. Life is never fair.

Sometimes, when I'm feeling too horrible and pitying myself, I think about us. Me and Snow. Us. Dating. Getting married. Adopting children. That makes me feel better, of course, but then I'm feeling even worse later when I'm reminded of how unlikely that is. Correction: how impossible that is. But putting aside my threatening tears because of that, thinking about Snow and I dating really makes me feel better. No matter how unlikely it is, I like thinking about Snow waking me up in the mornings with kisses and calling me darling. Him and I dancing slightly to Elvis Presley and him holding me in his arms like I'm something precious. Him waking up early just to make me food. Him caressing my cheeks and telling me he loves me. Our wedding cards. The invitations. Our first child’s name. The engraved words on his tombstone (“thy freckles that sit upon thy golden skin are beautiful and marvellous”) (That's all I have so far.) (I'm quite shitty at old English.)

But if it were old English, then I guess we'd have to-wait.

”All I have so far”?

What does that mean?

I whip out of my musings of Snow and I and - Merlin - discover that I had been writing in my notebook all along. But not notes.

They're little doodles of what I was thinking about earlier and they're everywhere.

My whole notebook page is filled with them. They're near the corners, on the margins, some of them are even covering my previous notes.

I feel heat rushing to my neck and cheeks when I see a particular doodle of me and Snow kissing, surrounded by hearts of all sizes and “Snowbaz” written at the top.

Snowbaz? What is wrong with me?

My widened eyes explore the expanse of the contents of the page and when I see a tombstone of him, and underneath it, the inscription I was preparing for him, I look at myself from someone else’s point of view and realise that I'm acting like a lovesick person and get freaked out by own myself.

As soon as I see a small drawing of Snow with (once again) hearts surrounding him and a little speech-bubble beside him saying, “I love you, Baz. So fucking much, ” I practically slam the notebook shut and it makes a loud sound. A few kids sitting near me peer at me, curious as to what I just did and why I did it, including Snow.

I specifically ignore Snow’s eyes because I know I'm flushed harder than I've ever been. And I know that it's visible and that the students can see it because some of them are eyeing my cheeks now. I resist a look at Snow cause I don't wanna know what look he's sporting and just state straight ahead, hoping that people will get back to their own business.

But of course, my life has never been that easy.

They all seem to look away, thank God. But then Miss Possibelf eyed me up and down and decided to be the worst teacher ever. She asked me a question.

More specifically, she asked me what was the spell best for what we just learned.

I wasn't listening to what they just learned. I was too busy doodling Snow like a little girl. The thought makes me blush even more and now I'm stammering.

Stammering.

Holy sweet cheese, what has become of me?

I start blubbering too, just like Snow and I feel humiliated.

Basilton Pitch, stuttering and blubbering like an idiot.

I spent so much time creating a cool reputation of complete calmness in all situations. Always calm and collected. Always relaxed. But now all of that is gone and I'm left looking like such an idiot.

I look at the other students in the room and they're all looking at me with incredulous on their faces, obviously noticing my weird change in behaviour. I look at Snow and Crowley, his eyes are blown open and one brow is raised. That's my look. Snow is nailing my look. Oh my God.

He’s noticed my blush too because he's staring right at it. And then he moves his gaze to my eyes. We’re making eye contact and I feel my breath knocked out of my lungs because of those unexceptional eyes that are boring holes into mine, unveiling all of my secrets and deepest desires.

I quickly move my head away and look right to Miss Possibelf. “Uhh, sorry Miss, I-I don’t know the answer.”

She shakes her head and I swear I hear someone gasp a little.

“Alright, sit down then, Baz. And try to pay attention next time in class.”

Even Miss Possibelf looks a bit fazed by my sudden change. I sit down and avoid everyone’s eyes while Miss Possibelf once again drones on and on and on.

Snow doesn't look at me when I sit down. He looks forward and doesn't look my way the great of the lesson. I kind of want him to turn around so that I could see what his expression was and try to read it but I also don't want to because there will be no expression on that face which I want to see directed at me from him.

I still feel a few eyes on me when the bell ring and I practically gallop across the room before anyone else. I force my legs to move faster and take me away before Snow finds me and interrogates me, which I know he will, based on my behavior in the class and how he was looking at me.

But no luck on my part.

I was out in the hall, in front of the students now trailing behind me, trying to get to their next class. (They seemed to lose interest in me now. It was good but I was still terribly humiliated.) I was trying to get out of that place but somehow, Snow ended up in front of me. (I would say he came out of nowhere but that would be logically incorrect.)

He stood in front me, his eyes narrowed in a suspicious way, all trace of the look he was giving me before in class gone. His arms are crossed in front of his chest and he's swaying slightly on his feet, not like he's drunk but like he's trying to figure something out, considering by how he looks me up and down with a frown on his face.

I cross my arms too and glare at him. “What, Snow?”

He snaps out his daze. “What?”

“I said ‘What, Snow?’. I haven’t got all day you know. I have a life.”

He glares at me as well and then I sneer at him. It’s not as sharp as it was before because of the embarrassment but I don’t really care right now.

It seems that Snow does because he looks at me and raises a brow. Just like he did in the classroom. Merlin, how did he learn that? He must’ve practiced in the mirror in the room just to piss me off.

Well, if that's the case, then it worked. Not only am I seething at him for stealing something that was mine, but he has the audacity to smirk about it. That bastard definitely practiced it to piss me off.

He drops the look, unfolds his hands and then stuffs them in his pocket, obviously trying to look all cool and nonchalant and calm as I do. I’m ecstatic to say that this he doesn’t pull off that well. Of course, I love him. I would like him however he was but if anyone else were to see him like this - anyone who wasn’t in love with him - then they wouldn’t think that he looked cool. I decide not to tell him that and let him wander around school looking like this. I smirk at the thought.

He frowns, catching my smirk, but pulls himself together.

He, then, gets straight to the topic.

“What were you writing in that little notebook of yours?” he asks, voice icy with a hint of something undetectable.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I answer, now trying to be the calm and collected one. I try to walk past him but grabs me by the waist. My breath silently hitches and I pray he didn't hear it.

Lightly, he shoves me back in the position I was in. “You know what I’m talking about, you git.”

“I really don’t, Snow. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to my next class.”

Once again, I try to walk away but he pushes me back. I can tell a few people are eavesdropping on our conversation. I glare at them and they resume walking. When I turn back, Snow is looking at something between my fingers.

The notebook. Oh, bloody hell.

I was so eager to get out of the goddamn class that I forgot to put it back in my bag and just carried it. Ah, fuck.

He looks at me again and lowers his voice an octave which sends shivers down my spine. “What were you writing in the notebook, Basilton?”

Shit. He’s hardly ever called me by my full name. (It’s really fucking sexy.) He only does that when he’s desperately on edge. Ugh, did he somehow get triggered from me writing in a notebook in class? Although, if he does call me by my real name “Basilton”, then there’s always something horribly wrong. What’s wrong this time? The last time he used the full name was when he started following me everywhere in 5th Year.

“What do you think, Snow? Notes for class, duh. Didn’t think you were this thick, Snow. Maybe you’re just incredibly stupid, or have too many problems.” It’s a stupid insult and it barely counts as one, I know. But right now, I’m trying not to get a different type of problem in front of him that's caused by his low octave and the stare he’s giving me. A very different kind of problem.

“No, you weren’t. I saw you, Baz. Everyone saw you. You were writing something and then you slammed it shut like it was poison ivy. And then when Miss Possibelf called on you, you started stuttering and blubbering and you weren’t paying attention to her before. And you were blushing, positively way too much for a vampire."

I feel my cheeks redden at his last comment and force them to cool down. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m a human too, you know. I blush too.” It seems like the wrong thing to say, but right now, I don’t really know what to say. “So, for Merlin’s sake, leave me alone. It was nothing but notes, Snow. And I merely dozed off a bit. I thought you, out of all people, would understand that since you have the most experience with it than any other 8th Year. Now, for fuck’s sake, I’m leaving.”

This time, I straighten my posture and force my chin up and bump into him while walking away. But he seems prepared for that, and snatches the notebook as I try to walk away.

I whip around in an instant, heart suddenly speeding up stupendously, and see him standing there with a glint in his eye and says, “I’ll find out what you’re plotting, Baz.”

His dialogue is so utterly ridiculous that it just makes me more angry.

He thinks I’m plotting something? The nasty git. What would I plot where I would have to make a fool out of myself in front of my classmates and blush horrendously too. And why would I actually carry it out? I have too much dignity and too good a reputation to do something like that. I’m not Snow.

I grit my teeth. “Snow...give it back.”

“No."

I lunge at him.

It’s half a fist-fight for the bloody notebook and people are watching us but I don’t care. I’ve dealt with worse before. And I can’t let him read what I wrote/drew. It would be too humiliating for a day. I would be outed.

I press hard on his shoulder to push him down and myself up when he holds the notebook over his head and easily grip its spine. He starts to tickle me, the wanker. I grunt, squirm and try not to giggle but it's hard, and he keeps tickling until I start to squirm a bit too much. And the he pushes me off him and my grip on the spine of the book is lost. He turns away from me, holding it tight in his hands.

Suddenly, I’m hit by a humongous wave of panic and nausea. Is he about to run away with it? Is he going to read it if he does? Merlin, yes, he will. I need to get that back.

I’m desperate to. I’m so desperate to get it back that just as he starts to turn away. I mutter a spell and flick my wand a but from my pocket and the notebook burns. Literally. It actually scorches until it’s just ash. A teeny bit of ash in Snow’s palm. Such a small amount that it’s not even overflowing from his palm. Snow and I both just stand and stare it at as it turns. When it finishes, there’s a heavy smell of smoke in the air that's quite similar to Snow’s magic, so I don’t know if it’s the burning of the notebook, his magic, or both.

I’ve had just about enough for today. Without looking at Snow, I turn around and just walk away without another look back.

Snow doesn’t call after me.

Simon

I just stand there and Baz walks away, speechless, looking back and forth from the ash and Baz’s walking figure.

Long after he disappears (to our room, he has a free period and so do I), I come to a final decision.

I gently sit down on the ground and slowly rummage through my bag to find a small bag the size of a hand. It can only fit the teeniest of tiniest things. (Penny gave it to me. Her roommate had given this to her and she said that she doesn’t want anything from Trixie.)

I softly open it, careful not to accidentally drop a bit of the ash in my other hand on the ground. I place all of the ash of the notebook into the bag and then lock it up tight.

I then get up and move to go to the library to study a bit (but I know I’m just gonna end up thinking about that notebook and Baz) and then after this period, it’ll be lunch so I’ll tell her about what happened in class and how I need her help to somehow find out what was written on that notebook.

I know it sounds really pathetic but I swear Baz is up to something. Something bad.

Something like that has never happened before in class. Or ever. And by something, I mean Baz losing literally all of his cool and blubbering and blushing in front of everyone. And that’s not even the whole thing.

Last night, Baz was out late and I’m 100% sure that wanker was down in the catacombs, draining rats. Ugh. He came back really late. After midnight. I waited up for him to see when he’s come back and when he finally returned to the room, I acted like I was sleeping. I think he knew that I wasn’t since my pattern of breathing had gone rapid and off-beat because Baz just kind of suddenly came in when I was starting to think that he was going to spend the night somewhere else. But where would he spend it, of course?

He had surprised me, and since my breathing was the only sound in the room, he must’ve heard it and figured I was awake. I’ve memorised his pattern of breathing when he’s asleep. So I can tell when he’s awake. Roommate thing. Not creepy. I’m pretty sure he’s memorised mine too so that it’ll be easier for him to drain me in my sleep.

When he came in, he just climbed onto his bed and fell asleep. Didn’t change, didn’t take off his shoes, didn’t brush his teeth. Just came in and dropped on his bed. I think he was probably tired from plotting all night while draining rats, the vampire.

This morning, in all the classes we had together and outside of classes too, I noticed he was quite tired. Well, why wouldn’t he be? He stayed out almost all night and barely got 4 hours of sleep. He’s probably insanely tired. He really should take a nap, which is why he went into our room, I suppose.

Anyway, I was paying a lot of attention to him, trying to catch a slip-up on his part. Like dozing off in class, so I could confront him about it and ask him where he was last night. Or not paying attention in class. These are things that Baz would almost never do. If he does do them, then it’s entirely un-Baz-like and that means he was doing something tiring like plotting. And these things are exactly what he did.

I caught him in the first lesson almost dozing off. His eyes were so droopy that you could barely see the wet pavement colour in them. (Baz’s eyes always fascinated me. They’re a mix a different tinges of grey. A little dark grey on the outside of the iris, morphing into a deep blue into the sclera. They’re a light hue of a storm perhaps in the middle of the iris and then descend into this dark black-grayish colour in the pupil. All formed together, it looks like a beautiful painting, something a very famous Normal artist might make. Like Picasso. I really envy his eyes, mine are just blue and that's it. Such a pity that those astonishing eyes got wasted on a berk like Baz. Though he is a handsome git. He has slight abs from playing football and he’s one of those guys who could pull off a manbun. Ugh, blighter.)

And then in the previous class, he started scribbling away in his notebook instead of paying attention to Miss Possibelf. I was already sure he was planning something because he was so engrossed in whatever he was writing that he didn’t even notice me stealing glances at him. And that's odd.

A few minutes after I looked away, I - actually, everyone in the class - heard a big slam. Like a notebook getting smacked shut. And we turned to see who had it and of course, it had been Baz. But that wasn't what surprised me. Baz was flushed. You could actually see the red in his cheeks, even if you were sitting far away from him.

This obviously shocked me because vampires can’t blush, can they? I guess they can a little bit, something that's barely noticeable. But Baz’s was noticeable. Easily noticeable. But then I remembered that he went to the Catacombs last night and since he stayed so late plotting, he must’ve also drunk a lot.

His luck was poor today. Oh, poor Baz. Just as the peers were starting to move on with the lecture, Miss Possibelf called on him to tell her (and the class) about a spell best for what we just learned. And since Baz wasn’t paying attention before, he didn’t know anything at all about what we were just studying. So he started stammering and shit. Like, getting flustered and not being able to form a proper sentence! He started acting like the way I acted, exactly like the kind of behaviour he gave me shit for!

This was good. Now, everyone was looking at Baz with weird looks and I kinda started feeling bad for him. If I were in his situation, it wouldn’t be that bad for me. But Baz had a cool reputation. He was the kid who knew the answers in class and was hot and athletic. Someone who oozing confidence. But then, all that went to hell a bit when he started stuttering. And he was also blushing very hard now. Like, his whole fucking face was red.

You could see his embarrassment from a mile away and I was too entranced in his flustered and blushing state to look away or put on a masked expression. He actually looked quite cute in this state and I could tell that a bunch pf the girls seemed to think the same thing. They were ogling Baz with lovesick looks, no doubt making him uncomfortable.

I was actually a bit more focused on his crimson cheeks, and when I looked up, I figured that I better take advantage of this situation. I practiced Baz’s signature expression in the bathroom last night. The raised brow. I did that to him when he looked at me and his eyes widened. Meanwhile, my eyes travelled over his cheeks once again, and I was left to wondering how...adorable they were. (Holy Mother of God, did I just call Baz adorable?!)

But when I once again looked up at him, I was stunned. And apparently, so was he.

We were staring deep into each other’s eyes and I was pretty sure that I had an awed expression on my face. And it just amazed me that even though this is the first time we’ve locked eyes in this type of way, it strangely felt...comfy. Homey. Familiar. And when I noticed Baz’s face, he looked the same. At least, I think.

And that's not even the worst part.

A few micro-seconds after that, I felt this thing in my stomach. It felt like my stomach was doing somersaults or had creatures in it that were flying around haphazardly, and were causing my breath to speed up like a race car.

Like butterflies.

I’m not stupid. I’ve felt that kind of thing before...with Agatha. I know what it means.

But I can’t admit it. It can’t be true. I can see why I would feel homey looking into Baz’s eyes (actually, I don’t) but this? Nuh uh. Not true.

Although...no! Not true!

But...it does make sense a bit, though. Just a bit.

I quickly looked away when I felt that. And Baz told Miss Possibelf that he didn’t know the answer. After that, I spent the whole lesson pondering over the...possibility. I didn’t dare sneak a glance at Baz, though. Not after the hunch I just had.

The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. How obsessed I’d been with Baz in 5th Year. How I find his smell of cedar and bergamot like home. And his eyes too. How I love the shade of his eyes and am almost always thinking about what shade the middle changed to this time. How I always felt a bit bad after our rows. How I stayed up last night to wait for him to come back!

Oh Merlin, was that just an excuse to wait up for Baz?

This all makes so much sense that it’s scary. I can’t possibly have feelings for Baz. Thats absurd. And he’s my enemy. And arch-nemesis. And we’re going to have to kill each other. (Hmph, I can’t fight him now. After discovering this.)

No. No, I’m wrong. I can’t be right. I’m probably too hung up on Agatha (even though I seemed quite fine the last few weeks) so now I’m just making up crushes. And even if I actually like Baz that way, it’s only a crush. It’ll go away.

(Although, I highly doubt a 7 year long crush is just a crush.)

The bell indicating that lunch has begun startles me out of my Baz-filled musings and I practically run out of the door to our usual table and sit down, waiting for Penny to arrive so I ask her help on what spell would help me read what was inside the notebook. At least what he wrote today.

I look over at Baz’s table.

He’s not there. He’s still asleep upstairs.

I fiddle with my jumper. This could be a Baz plot! To make me have feelings for him and then break my heart! It could be!

I need Penny’s help with this, desperately. I have to find out what was in that book. And I’m pretty sure that I’ve heard Penny say something about these types of spells once. That help you put together broken things. I’m not sure if it’ll work on something burned, but I have to try. I can’t just accept these feelings for Baz and try to hide them.

What if this actually is Baz’s plot? Oh my God. Please let it not be. I’m still not sold on the fact that I have feelings for Baz. That’s not really something you easily believe, especially when its your arch-nemesis who you lov-like!

Who you like. Not love.

As I was saying, I’m still not sure, but every moment that passes, I keep getting more and more convinced of this. And I’m going to have to tell Penny about this and ask her for advice.

Oh Crowley, that’s going be an awkward conversation. I am not at all looking forward to that conversation at all.

Maybe I’ll tell her later. When I’ve discovered what the contents of the notebook are. Yeah, that’ll be the perfect time to tell Penny.

And while I think about Penny, I see her walking over from her class to the our table and wave frantically. She gives me a puzzled look but then starts jogging to the table.

As she sits down, she asks, “What’s up?”

chap 2, chap 3 (last one)

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