Methods Beyond Magic

The Sun and The Shadows

           

When finally they reached the grounds, Sherlock took his hand away from Victor's quickly, looking around to check that no one saw them.
"You're so jumpy Sherlock, it's alright." Victor assured.
"Yes, I know, sorry." Sherlock muttered.
"Hogsmeade is next weekend as well, and I was thinking on asking you, before anyone else." Victor insisted.
"Well, who else would I go with?" Sherlock asked, but he already knew the answer.
"John, of course. You'd go with that bloody caretaker." Victor pointed out.
"Well, good thing you asked me first then." Sherlock muttered. Victor nodded with a smile.
"Yes, a very good thing." he agreed. They walked up to the castle and Sherlock said something about having to grade papers or something, which was complete rubbish, but Victor nodded, saying farewell with a wink and disappearing down the stairs to his common room. Sherlock took a deep breath, feeling like he had just been let out of some kind of cage and walked up to his classroom once more. There were two bottles of butterbeer on the desk, Sherlock's was still kind of full so he put it in his office to finish later, as a sort of you got through the day without killing someone treat. He sat at his desk and sat back in the chair, tapping his fingers against the armrests and looking out the window. What on earth had he gotten himself into? Victor loved him, which was obvious, maybe Victor made it a little bit too obvious, but what was Sherlock even supposed to do? After a kiss, after a night together, obviously Victor must think that those feelings were returned, but Sherlock didn't feel anything when he looked at him, his heart didn't sing, his soul didn't feel connected, then again, Sherlock had no idea what it felt like to be in love. Was it supposed to be glorious, was it supposed to be painfully obvious how he felt, for himself and for others, or was love a slow, gentle fire that burned without the victim knowing? And if he didn't love Victor he had certainly dug himself into a hole, because now Victor was under the impression that he was in love with him as well, and that they were a couple, and that Sherlock was totally down for prancing around Hogsmeade together the following weekend. And what about John? Sherlock had just made a speech to him about how Victor would never take his place, and now he was probably going to have to decline any offers the poor caretaker made, since Victor was going to be following him around like a puppy. Sherlock groaned, he had to love Victor because right now, the feelings were being demanded. He had to love Victor, because if he didn't, everything that happened the previous night would have meant nothing.

                Victor was at quidditch practice. Sherlock only knew this because he wasn't sitting on his desk. Ever since that night, Victor has been spending all of his free time with Sherlock, hanging out in the classroom, forcing Sherlock on walks and to the quidditch pitch to fly around and throw around the quaffle. Sherlock agreed, of course, and he never threw him out or denied an offer, just to keep the boy's happiness going a bit more. Every time he saw Victor, he was smiling. Even if Victor didn't know Sherlock was watching him, like when he had snuck in the staff entrance in the Great Hall, or was looking down the hallway, Victor was smiling. And that made Sherlock happy, of course it did, but then again, it would've made Sherlock a lot happier if he couldn't wipe a smile from his face as well. In fact, it was quite the opposite because every time Sherlock smiled, it felt forced. Every time he smiled in the presence of Victor, in the presence of a class, it felt like someone was pulling the edges of his mouth up with invisible strings, and the effort hurt more than healed. Because Sherlock was happy, but then again, he was miserable about that happiness. He knew that he didn't love Victor, that bit had become very clear to him after the days he spent forcing himself to feel something that just wasn't there. He constantly reminded himself that he had to love Victor because he knew that if he didn't truly love him, then their entire relationship will be looked on as some sort of creepy stunt pulled by a professor that wanted to feel young again. Victor had been right, that entire night had been started when Sherlock practically screamed at Victor to come back, a strange fire had been burning in him that had long since gone out. The only time Sherlock ever got any peace and quiet was when Victor was at quidditch practice, and once again, this was one of those nights. So when there was a knock on the door, Sherlock was torn between laughing at the irony of it all and throwing things to prevent him from coming in. However, when he called for them to enter, it was John who walked in, not Victor.
"John!" Sherlock said rather excitedly.
"Hey Sherlock, long time no see." He said with a laugh. Sherlock was positively brimming with excitement to see someone other than Victor alone in his classroom.
"If only I could." Sherlock muttered, more to himself really.
"Why can't you, exactly? I'm always somewhere, not too difficult to find." John pointed out.
"Well, you know me, busy and stuff." Sherlock shrugged.
"Busy with who?" John asked. Sherlock's head snapped up defensively, but didn't say anything.
"What do you mean, who?" he asked.
"You know what I mean." John insisted, suddenly sounding kind of cold.
"Amuse me then." Sherlock muttered.
"You've been spending all that 'busy time' with Victor, I see you two all the time together." John pointed out.
"Yes well, that's not the full story." Sherlock sighed.
"Then what is the full story?" John asked.
"I'm not really sure you'll want to know." Sherlock muttered.
"Oh god, you two didn't..." John whispered.
"No, no, nothing like that." Sherlock lied, pretending to look as if that were a preposterous idea.
"So, what, do you suddenly hate me then? Or do you owe him some sort of debt? Or is it remedial Defense Against the Dark Arts?" John snapped.
"I'm hanging out with him because I feel bad for him." Sherlock admitted. It Wasn't really a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth. It was so far from the whole truth that it was almost pathetic.
"You feel bad for him?" John asked.
"I heard some Gryffindors making fun of him in the hallway, and I feel like he's the butt of everyone's jokes day in and day out, and he has no idea, and I Kind of want him to feel like maybe he's got a friend?" Sherlock defended.
"You're not actually his friend?" John asked.
"No, I am, but I don't want him to know how, well, hated he is." Sherlockadmitted.
"Oh, well, I wasn't aware that he was tormented. As the hero of the Slytherin Team, I'd rather thought he was worshipped." John admitted, sounding kind of guilty, as if he felt bad for accusing Sherlock for something he was definitely doing.
"The seeker got all the glory, Victor made sure to tell me all about that." Sherlock sighed.
"Sorry for yelling then." John muttered.
"You weren't yelling." Sherlock defended.
"Sorry for, talking loudly with an angry tone." John muttered with a small smile. Sherlock laughed a little bit, the first real smile he's had in days.
"You always know how to cheer me up, even if you don't know you're doing it." he decided.
"It's a gift. Everyone laughs at me; I decided to use that power for good." John shrugged. Sherlock just rolled his eyes.
"Sit down, stay a while, Victor's at quidditch practice but I imagine he'll be back when it's over." Sherlock decided.
"What, are you two conjoined twins now?" John asked with a laugh.
"Something like that, I suppose." Sherlock shrugged.
"So, I didn't just come down here to annoy you, I actually have a question." John admitted with a smile, siting on one of the student desks, swinging his short little feet.
"Alright, what might this question be?" Sherlock asked.
"Hogsmeade this weekend, there's a trip going down and I thought that maybe you wanted to maybe go with me, maybe?" John asked hopefully, his adorable brown eyes shining with hope.
"Oh John, you know I want to, you know I really, really want that, but Victor Already asked me and I said that I'd go with him." Sherlock admitted.
"Not as a...not as a gay thing, I mean, no that offer was totally..." John started.
"Platonic." Sherlock agreed.
"Totally platonic, friends going together to Hogsmeade, share a butterbeer, but no, it's fine if you wanted to go with Victor, I mean, that's...that's brilliant." John assured, sounding like he was choking on a golf ball.
"You know, we are professors? We can go down to Hogsmeade whenever we want to, so maybe, maybe next weekend we can go down, totally platonically of course." Sherlock assured with a little laugh.
"Ya, that would be great, just the two of us, just bros." John agreed.
"That word is pretty painful." Sherlock decided.
"Ya, not my best choice of words, mates." John offered. Sherlock laughed, but nodded.
"That's better, just us mates." Sherlock agreed.
"Mates that cry on each other's shoulders and hug and share their feelings."John added with a bit of a laugh.
"Well, there are some limits, but we didn't really go past the line. That was the neutral zone, maybe more of a feminine friendship approach." Sherlock shrugged.
"How do you know anything about girls?" John laughed.
"Oh, I don't, but my mother has an odd tendency to want to cry on people's shoulders, it's quite unsanitary if you ask me." Sherlock admitted. "Then again, I'm usually the one making her cry in the first place..."
"Because you're so mean or because you're so ugly?" John asked with a laugh.
"Probably a bit of both I suppose." He shrugged.
"Ya, I cry about that too." John agreed, and Sherlock laughed again, something that felt quite good to be honest.
"You're the one that begs to hang out with me." Sherlock insisted.
"It's you or the Fat Friar, and honestly, he's going on about this new diet plan he's got, but ghosts can't eat or exercise, so I have no idea what he's talking about half the time." John laughed.
"Well, I can tell you about my diet plan if you want." Sherlock assured.
"And what's that?" John asked.
"Eat everything I want and cry it off at night." Sherlock laughed.
"Poor thing." John agreed.
"It's a rough life, believe me." Sherlock sighed.
"Oh, I believe it, you poor unfortunate wizard, being torn apart by two interesting and attractive people, having to spend your time grading papers and eating extravagant feasts and being paid handsomely, you poor thing." John moaned.
"You think you're interesting and attractive?" Sherlock laughed.
"That's what you took out of that sentence?" John asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
"Well, yes." Sherlock agreed. "The rest of it was kind of rubbish."
"I think I'm interesting, and Victor's not terribly unattractive, although I'd like to run his face over with a dump truck." John shrugged.
"That might have meaning if I knew what a dump truck was." Sherlock laughed.
"Fair enough. So, what are you brainwashing the children with this week?" Johnasked.
"We've just started on shield charms for the younger kids, and for the older kids we're learning about vampires." Sherlock said proudly.
"Vampires? Like Dracula?" John asked.
"Yes, I suppose, just a lot less interesting, and they don't really mind crucifixes." Sherlock shrugged.
"Ya, that's boring. I was a vampire for Halloween once." John admitted.
"Halloween? Is that the muggle tradition of knocking on the door threatening for sweets?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, sort of. Everyone dresses up as someone or something and knocks on people's door for candy. I thought wizards celebrated that as well?" Johnasked.
"Not as religiously as muggles presumably do. All we have is a feast and some dancing skeletons." Sherlock shrugged.
"That sounds a heck of a lot better than some plastic clown mask and a lifetime supply of vanilla Tootsie Rolls." John shrugged.
"How was life as a muggle? Now that you know both worlds, which would you prefer?" Sherlock asked. "If I can ask." He added, seeing the conflicted lookon John's face.
"Well, life as a muggle at the time seemed like hell, but looking back, it wasn't all that bad. I can name all the Prime Ministers and we had Valentine's day parties and volleyball tournaments and stuff, but in Hogwarts, I don't know, there's kind of that air of excitement and happiness that the cement walls of Muggle School just couldn't fill." John admitted.
"Hogwarts isn't as great as it's cut out to be. I mean, I know it's magical education with amazing food and cozy common rooms and a squid in the lake, but in muggle school I doubt you had a ghost teaching you history?" Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, my teacher might as well have been a ghost; he had the same tone of voice for all of his lessons. However I don't think he was nearly as dull as Professor Binns." John admitted.
"There we are, point proven." Sherlock said proudly.
"Well, you don't have druggies and college tuition here, do you?" John asked.
"No, but you don't have dorks like me teaching over at muggle school." Sherlock pointed out.
"If you had taught me I would've enjoyed school a lot better." John insisted.
"Why, so you can stare at my beautiful face all day?" Sherlock laughed.
"No, because you're an amazing person and a good teacher." John pointed out.
"Fair enough, I am quite amazing, aren't I?" Sherlock agreed, running his fingers through his hair like a supermodel.
"Oh stop it, you look ridiculous." John laughed.
"I have to agree." said a new voice from the door. Both Sherlock and John turned to see Victor, and they had very different reactions on the outside, however they both felt their mood drop drastically.

"Victor, hey!" Sherlock said with a forced smile.

           

"Hello Sherlock, Mr. Watson." Victor muttered, casting a dark look over to where John sat. He walked over to Sherlock and sat on the corner of his desk once more, as if claiming his territory.
"Come in from quidditch?" Sherlock asked, seeing his quidditch robes, the mud on his shoes, and the fact that he smelled strongly of grass and body odor.
"Yes, the only reason I wasn't here." Victor agreed with a laugh. Isn't that the truth?
"Well, I suppose I should go then..." John muttered, obviously feeling a bit excluded.
"No, you don't have to go." Sherlock assured.
"Yes, please." Victor said at the same time. John had trouble looking at both of them at once, so he fixed a rather murderous gaze on Victor and got to his feet.
"I'll go then, see you later Sherlock." John muttered.
"Bye John!" Sherlock agreed, really feeling the need to call him back, make some sort of excuse or something, but before he could have any genius plans, John was already out the door.
"He's a bit of a deadbeat isn't he?" Victor asked, pulling Sherlock's lips closer by the neck of his robes and kissing him softly.
"No, John is great." Sherlock insisted, pulling away slightly.
"I hope I don't have any competition?" Victor muttered.
"No, not at all. In fact, I had to turn him down for Hogsmeade this Saturday because I was already going with someone." Sherlock pointed out. Victor smiled, letting Sherlock sit back in his chair and picking up one of his quills once more, stroking the feather as if he had some newfound fascination with it.
"He doesn't have any interest in you, does he?" Victor asked.
"He clarified that it was indeed very platonic." Sherlock assured.
"Someone only says that when they're trying to hide how un-platonic their intentions are." Victor pointed out.
"Well, his intentions are platonic, and if they weren't, I'd have to tell him no, because I'm taken." Sherlock assured, forcing a smile onto his lips.
"And if you weren't taken, would you say yes?" Victor asked, raising his eyebrows in concern.
"To a date, or to a friendly stroll?" Sherlock asked.
"To a date, of course." Victor clarified.
"Well, yes, I think so. But since I have a better option than him, I said no." Sherlock pointed out. In all reality, Sherlock would much rather have a pint with John than with Victor, considering he doubted Victor was even old enough to drink, and that his presence was now starting to feel, well, miserable. John at least would keep the day light and interesting.
"That makes me feel a lot better about letting you loose." Victor decided.
"Loose? Are you suggesting that once I'm out of your sight I go and make out with the cutest guy I see?" Sherlock asked.
"What you do in your free time isn't my business, although I rather hope that's not your plans for this evening." Victor admitted.
"You're in luck then, because after you leave I'm headed straight to bed, I'm exhausted." Sherlock decided.
"Well, don't let me stop you." Victor said with a smile. "I'm always up for a cuddle."
"You need to get back to your common room; it'll be a bit suspicious if you don't show up until twelve o'clock." Sherlock insisted, getting to his feet.
"Well then, what do you suggest we do until then?" Victor asked with a smile, getting to his feet as well.
"I suggest you scurry along, you've got an essay to write me, remember?" Sherlock pointed out.
"On how much I love you?" Victor asked.
"On Vampires." Sherlock corrected, not finding it terribly difficult to keep a smile off of his face.
"Well then, I'll tell you everything I know right now, I don't see why I have to write it down." Victor shrugged.
"Get going Victor; don't make me give you a detention." Sherlock warned.
"I'd like to see you try." Victor muttered with a smile, pulling Sherlock closer and kissing him once again. "I'll see you tomorrow." Victor whispered.
"Yes, I suppose you will." Sherlock agreed, and with that Victor walked off, closing the door quietly behind him. Sherlock sighed, feeling the strong urge to wipe his lips off on something, but instead he just walked over to his bedroom and sat on the bed, tapping his toes and staring blankly at Billy's empty cage. Even his most faithful friend was missing. Oh well, nothing Sherlock could do about that. So he changed into his pajamas, leaving the window open for Billy in case he felt like coming back, and got into bed, staring at the ceiling for a while and pondering all of the mistakes he's made before finally closing his eyes.