Methods Beyond Magic

Lovely in the Library

    "I'll buy drinks, my treat; you go find a table for two." Victor decided with a smile. A couple of the students craned their necks to see who Victor was talking to, but Sherlock just scowled and walked through the crowd before they could discover their secret. There was a small table near the back corner, under a dusty window with a cold candle sitting in the middle of it. Sherlock didn't really think the Three Broomsticks was a good place for a date, but the candle must be here for romantic nights on the town. So Sherlock moved it to another empty table, hoping that Victor didn't come over and light it. Sherlock scanned the crowd once more, recognizing some students from his class and even some professors sipping from large mugs, but once again, no John. He probably hadn't even come down; he didn't seem like the type to wander to an all wizarding town without a partner to show him around. Now that Sherlock really thought of it, John might not have ever been to Hogsmeade, since he had only attended Hogwarts for half of his first year. He's probably never had a butterbeer before. What a poor, terrible life he must have. Victor arrived about five minutes later, ruining Sherlock's moment of peaceful solitude with two frothing mugs of heaven.
"One for you, and one for me." he said proudly, sitting across from Sherlock with a smile.
"Wow, it's almost like it was meant to be." Sherlock muttered, poking at his mug without any intention of drinking it. Victor, however, seemed very eager to start on his, and drank several large gulps before finally setting his mug back down on the little wooden table; wiping the mustache of foam he now had clinging to his top lip.
"I remember the last time I had a butterbeer, not too long ago actually." Victor pointed out. Sherlock scowled, and the memories of his last butterbeer only encouraged him not to take a sip.
"What a day that was." Sherlock grumbled.
"And only because of it, we're here. All because of that butterbeer." Victor sighed with a smile.
"It wasn't directly the drink's fault, more like mine, and yours, and whoever didn't stop what was happening." Sherlock sighed. "Worst night of my life."
"It was fine then, wasn't it?" Victor insisted hopefully.
"It was terrible." Sherlock snapped.
"You only say that because you're biased." Victor decided, leaning back on his chair and looking at Sherlock like he was his greatest accomplishment.
"I'm not biased; my eyes have just been open. If I had known who you were, or who you would become, when I met you on that train, I would've shoved that box of Bertie Bott's in your face." Sherlock insisted.
"Good thing you didn't." Victor said with a smile, taking another sip but not taking his blue eyes off of Sherlock. Sherlock frowned but couldn't think of anything to say, so to avoid carrying on the conversation he took a sip of his butterbeer as well. No matter what terrible memories came from his last one, the taste of butterbeer never faltered. In fact, this one tasted so much better than the one Victor had given him, but that's probably because the one Victor had was sitting in a trunk all summer, and this was hot off of the taps.
"I remember you were so nervous to start the school year, sitting on the carriage and falling into me after every bump the wheels hit. I thought we'd never be closer than that, but alas, look where we are now." Victor sighed.
"Have you always loved me?" Sherlock asked in a quiet voice, so that no one else in the pub could hear. But then again, Sherlock could probably have screamed it and no one would notice, they were all absorbed in whatever pointless conversations they were having, too focused on their drinks to pay any attention to the life that was being torn about in the corner.
"Sherlock, when you first came into the compartment on the train, when I first looked over my book at you, I thought you were a beautiful seventh year I hadn't noticed before. When I found out you were a professor my hopes got even higher, but I knew I'd never have a chance. Back then I fancied you for your looks, but as I got to know you better, and as we talked more, I began to love you for who you were." Victor decided.
"And now you cage me up for what I've done." Sherlock insisted.
"Precisely." Victor agreed with a smile, as if happy Sherlock was catching on. Disgusting thing he was.
"I never thought about a relationship with you, if it makes you feel worse. The thought never crossed my mind." Sherlock pointed out.
"At least, until the last butterbeer you drank." Victor pointed out. Sherlock sighed, staring at the wooden table, engraved with initials and swear words.
"Yes, I suppose until then. But that faded too, until I was left with you thinking I was willing to take it to the next level, when you thought I wanted to be your boyfriend." Sherlock pointed out.
"I knew you didn't. I saw the look in your eyes, the concern, and I knew that something just had to be done." Victor sighed.
"You still have to do your classwork." Sherlock insisted.
"Tedious." Victor sighed. "No, I'll do my tests; I'll study, but essays, no, I have better things to do with my time."
"Don't cheat the education system for a stupid mistake I've made." Sherlock snapped.
"No Sherlock, it was a brilliant idea, it wasn't a mistake." Victor insisted. He raised his eyebrows at Sherlock, as if expecting something from him, and Sherlock just rolled his eyes.
"I mean, don't cheat the education system for such a brilliant idea that I had." Sherlock repeated, his voice deprived of any emotion except annoyance and boredom.
"Close enough I suppose. You'll get there Sherlock, you'll get there." Victor decided.
"Can we go now? Looking at you too long is hurting my eyes." Sherlock complained.
"Looking into the sun too long?" Victor asked with a laugh.
"No, staring into the fires of hell." Sherlock said through clenched teeth. Thankfully Victor couldn't tell just what he said, he just laughed and took another sip of his butterbeer.
"Let me finish my drink, you best finish yours as well." Victor decided.
"I'm not really in the mood." Sherlock sighed, pushing his mug away.
"I paid money for that, drink it." Victor snapped. Sherlock sighed but held the mug to his lips, gulping the whole thing down and putting it back on the table with a scowl.
"That wasn't that hard, was it?" Victor asked with a smile, putting his empty mug down as well.
"Let's go back to the castle; I'm bored of this village." Sherlock decided. Victor sighed, but nodded, getting to his feet.
"I must admit, it's more fun with a date." He insisted.
"It's more fun by myself." Sherlock protested, but Victor was already out the door. Sherlock followed him back up the path to the castle, his bag hitting his leg every step he took, the chilly fall air making his cheeks pink.
"That was fun, was it not?" Victor asked when they reached the entrance hall, running his fingers through his hair to repair any damage the wind might have done.
"Of course not." Sherlock snapped.
"Be nice Sherlock; treat others how you'd like to be treated." Victor pointed out.
"I'd like you to let me go, and I'm very willing to let you go as well." Sherlock insisted.
"I said, be nice." Victor snapped, looking around the deserted entrance hall for anyone that might have heard him.
"Well then, I should go, I've got some work to do, shockingly I still have a job." Sherlock pointed out.
"You have all day tomorrow to do that, it's not even lunch yet." Victor protested.
"And you assume I have nothing better to do than spend the time with you?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, considering everything you do now has to go through me first, yes." Victor agreed.
"Can I walk?" Sherlock asked.
"Yes, you can." Victor agreed.
"Oh no, you didn't give me permission to ask that though, how does that work? Can I keep talking?" Sherlock asked.
"No." Victor snapped. Sherlock shrugged, but pretended to be very shocked at his own daring, holding his hand to his now mute mouth in shock.
"Alright, stop this." Victor snapped, and Sherlock hung his arms limp at his side and let his head loll back on his neck. "You can talk and move, but anything else you do is through me. I decide how you spend your time, and most of it will be in my presence."
"You'll get bored of me." Sherlock insisted.
"Oh, I don't think I will." Victor decided, staring up the stairs. "Follow me, love."
"I really hope that's not me." Sherlock grumbled to himself, but followed Victor up to his classroom. When they got in, Sherlock hung his cloak over a desk and turned to see Victor sitting in his chair, pulling out his new quill and comparing it to the one on Sherlock's desk.
"I actually think mine is more attractive, don't you think?" he asked. Sherlock sighed, but sat on one of the student's desks.
"Nothing about you is attractive." He snapped.
"No, tell me I'm beautiful." Victor insisted.
"You're beautiful." Sherlock muttered.
"Why thank you." Victor said with a smile. "Come sit on the desk, like I do." Sherlock sighed, but got up and sat on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms and snatching his quill back from Victor's greasy fingers.
"Do you like being a teacher?" Victor asked.
"No." Sherlock sighed.
"Because of me, or because of the job?" he asked.
"Oh, I think you know the answer to that one." Sherlock snapped.
"The job that bad then?" Victor sighed. "Shame." Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but shut it once more, worried that he might say something that was pushing Victor's limits a bit too much. He hated living like this, he hated having to tip toe around such a horrible person, worried that the truth might hurt. Victor spent the whole rest of the day with him, not until dinner could Sherlock finally escape through the staff exit, running to the library instead of his room so that Victor wouldn't find him so easily. So he sat in a table in the back corner, lazily flipping the pages to a book that he had randomly picked off the shelf, in this case, some rubbish on previous Dark Wizards, and tried to tell himself that it was very interesting. How great his life was right now, how this teaching position had been exactly what he had wanted in life. He tried to tell himself that everything would be fine, that Victor would get bored of him and finally let him go. Anyway, that idiot was only here for the rest of the year, once he was gone Sherlock could finally continue his teacher career without a chain wrapped tightly around his neck.
"Hello Sherlock." Someone said from the end of the row.
"Oh, would you just leave me alone?" Sherlock groaned, looking up to see John looking rather upset.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd mind a little company." he muttered, wringing his hands nervously together.
"No, sorry, I thought you were someone else." Sherlock sighed. "Please, sit." He was actually very happy to see John walk over and sit down, the dying rays of sunlight illuminating the stained glass window next to him, shining multicolored beams over his face and making him look like some abstract painting.
"How was Hogsmeade?" John asked. Sherlock sighed, tempted to say how miserable it was, how Victor was controlling his life, how absolutely terrible his entire existence had become ever since he had chosen Victor over John. The worst decision he had ever made evidently, because now all Sherlock could think about was how much he wanted to be with John.
"It was fine, I actually got you something, but it's up in my room." Sherlock sighed.
"You got me a present?" John asked with a smile, looking like an overjoyed child on Christmas morning.
"It's nothing special; I just thought it's something you might enjoy." Sherlock shrugged.
"I feel bad, I didn't get you anything." John muttered.
"Well you didn't have to! Did you even go to Hogsmeade, I was looking for you." Sherlock pointed out.
"Oh, no, I felt like a loser wandering around the town all alone, so I stayed here and started to clean up some of those deserted classrooms around on the top floors. Some nasty stuff up there, no wonder Filch retired." John sighed.
"More like quit, but I get what you're saying." Sherlock agreed.
"I found this old, crusty mirror, and I don't know what it does, but when I looked into it, I saw you." John pointed out with a smile.
"Me, why was I in a mirror?" Sherlock asked with a laugh.
"I don't know, maybe it projects the last person you talked to." John shrugged.
"How'd I look?" Sherlock asked.
"You looked fine, actually." John admitted, looking down at the table as if he was leaving out some key details.
"Well, Hogwarts has all sorts of things you'll never figure out. In fact, I doubt you'll ever find that old mirror again." Sherlock decided.
"I'm still yet to learn Hogwarts' secrets." John shrugged. Sherlock just smiled, admiring the red lighting playing over John's forehead.
"As am I." he agreed.
"So, what are you reading?" John asked, picking up the book Sherlock had been flipping through and raising his eyebrows.
"Dark wizards, planning a new career path?" he asked with a laugh.
"I don't think I'd get very far as a dark wizard." Sherlock shrugged.
"It might pay a little better." John decided. Sherlock laughed in agreement.
"It probably does. But to be a dark wizard you need supporters and crazy people that are willing to follow you to the ends of the earth, and I don't think I'm nearly that, attractive, magnetically speaking." Sherlock decided.
"Magnetically speaking, that's a new phrase. I think you're pretty attractive, I mean, even though you were a total jerk to me when we first met, I couldn't really stop coming to visit." John shrugged.
"We bumped into each other all around the school; we didn't seek each other out." Sherlock insisted.
"No, well, you asked me to fix your record player." John pointed out.
"I didn't ask you to fix my record player; you insisted that you help me, even though I totally had it under control." Sherlock snapped.
"No you didn't." John insisted.
"No, I didn't." Sherlock admitted with a small smile. "Feels like years ago."
"It's only been like, three months." John agreed.
"Time crawls when you hate your life." Sherlock shrugged.
"You hate your life?" John asked.
"Things are happening, things I really shouldn't get into." He admitted.
"Is that why you snapped at me to go away?" John asked. Sherlock sighed, but didn't answer his question, which usually meant yes. "Is it Victor?" John asked. Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide what to say, what to do, what John could handle...
"He's been spending a lot of time with me, which is fine, I mean, I like spending time with him, but he's been getting kind of, what's the word...possessive." Sherlock decided.
"You only see that now?" John laughed.
"He doesn't like me talking to you, I can tell, and whenever I insist that I have things to do he says that he can help, or that I can push it off for later." Sherlock decided.
"I think he fancies you." John pointed out.
"Of course he doesn't." Sherlock muttered, laughing at himself on the inside. Oh, the things John didn't know.
"Well, I mean, I think you're a likable person." John shrugged. "He wouldn't be too crazy."
"Are you saying that you like me too?" Sherlock asked. "Is this a love triangle?"
"No, don't be stupid, I'm saying that Victor probably wants to keep you all to himself." John insisted. Sherlock couldn't tell if it was the light from the window making his cheeks red or if he was just blushing.
"I don't know what to think." Sherlock admitted. "And I don't want to mention any time I spend with you, just in case, you know, he retaliates."
"You mean he'll attack me?" John laughed.
"I'm worried he might, you're a pretty tough person, but not even you can shield yourself from whatever curse he throws at you." Sherlock pointed out.
"He's going to curse me?" John asked, still not looking convinced. Sherlock was being serious though, he had no idea the extent of Victor's jealously, and if he thinks that John's getting in the way, he might make the problem go away.
"Just, please, watch your back." Sherlock decided.
"Alright, I will. I knew that guy was creepy from the beginning." John insisted.
"You were just jealous." Sherlock pointed out.
"I wasn't jealous!" John defended.
"You're still jealous." Sherlock assured.
"I am not! Just because I like spending time with you doesn't mean I hate anyone else who gets your attention." John muttered. Sherlock just laughed, and John just shook his head in embarrassment.
"I didn't mean it like I want to catch your attention, I meant anyone who you hang out with. Like Victor." John insisted.
"I knew what you meant." Sherlock assured, and now John was definitely blushing in embarrassment.
"I should probably go; it's been a long day." John decided, getting to his feet.
"It's not even nine yet!" Sherlock insisted.
"Well, I'm tired now; I'm not waiting for your bedtime." John snapped.
"Tomorrow, I'll tell Victor I have to grade papers; I'll come down to your room." Sherlock offered.
"I've got work too you know." John pointed out.
"It can wait, can't it?" Sherlock insisted.
"Now you sound like Victor." John decided.
"Yes, well, I want to spend time with you, and I want to give you your gift." Sherlock decided. John just laughed a little bit, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
"Alright then, I'll be there, what time?" he asked, smiling at the floor for some reason.
"Sometime in the morning, maybe I could sneak over when Victor's at breakfast." Sherlock offered.
"Mission impossible, huh?" John asked.
"You have no idea." Sherlock laughed, but it was kind of cold, as if he was remembering just how impossible it was.
"See you then." John agreed, nodding and walking down the row of books. Sherlock watched him leave, closing his book and staring at John's empty chair, wishing he were in it once more. John's presence only reminded him what real happiness felt, it only reminded him how miserable he was when Victor was with him instead.