Muggle in a Wizard's World

Chapter 8

John watched him, everything he did was graceful, his clothes were nice, his hair wasn’t out of place, and he was like the true gentleman. If he had gone to John’s muggle school every girl would be dying just to talk to him. If only he wasn’t so, different. Not just being a wizard, but he acted as though he’s never had a true conversation with anyone, he had no idea what to do when they hugged and held hands, and everyone seemed to avoid him. John hoped he was bringing out the best in Sherlock, helping him learn what to do with another human being. John watched as he walked across the room and sat on the couch this time, putting his head on John’s pillow, which still sat on the arm rest, and swung his feet over the back of the couch, so he looked like a slanted line. John looked at him with confusion, but he looked around at the chairs at the other side of the room, debating whether or not just to sit there.

“Don’t be shy.” Sherlock shrugged, kicking the back of the couch by unseen feet. John looked at him with a moment’s hesitation, but Sherlock was looking right back, looking confident in his decision. John sat on the other end of the couch, his arm on the arm rest, and still Sherlock’s knees were close to his face, the guy was so tall, it was unfair really, seeming as John was very short. Sherlock didn’t say anything, and neither did John, he was trying to find a subject in his brain that would break this awkward silence.

“Do you think You Know Who will attack any time soon?” John asked a question that had been bothering him for a while.

“He will eventually, I don’t know when though.” Sherlock admitted.

“How will I defend myself, I don’t have magic.” John pointed out.

“I don’t think you can, I’ll hide you…”

“No, I want to fight, I won’t let you go out there alone.” John said determinedly. Sherlock looked at him with a slight smile on his face, as if John’s simple words had been deeper than John expected.

“Without magic, it’ll be suicide. You can maybe bring a sword, but one curse shot at you and you’ll be dead, I couldn’t let you do that. And besides, I won’t be alone; I’ll be with all of the other aurors.” Sherlock pointed out.

“But what if you die and I know I could’ve done something about that, I could’ve stopped the curse, or jumped in the way or something, but instead I’ll be sitting here waiting for death to wander in.” John pointed out.

“I would never live with myself if I knew you jumped in front of a curse for me!” Sherlock exclaimed. John was silent, it was an endless argument, and he knew both of them were willing to die for each other. Even though he had only known Sherlock for a couple of days, he was positive he would jump in front of the curse. John had no one anymore, only his friends would notice his absence, but Sherlock had family and so much potential. John was just a lost muggle.

“Do you think he’ll defeat us?” John asked uncertainly. Sherlock was silent for a little bit, as if waiting for a dramatic scene in a movie.

“When he attacks, yes, I think he can.” Sherlock admitted. John let that sink in, that they were just sitting ducks, barricaded in a not so safe haven.

“So why don’t we do something, go somewhere else?” John asked.

“There is nowhere else to go, Hogwarts is the last safe place for wizards still against Voldemort. The Ministry is under attack, soon it will be gone, and then it’s just us and the other rebels scattered about. If they can’t protect themselves though, Voldemort will over pick them off one by one.”

“How many do you think are out there?”

“There’s a lot, but they aren’t all great wizards, too scared to take a stand.” Sherlock admitted. With that he swung his feet down, over top of John, and rested his feet on the armrest next to him. Sherlock’s legs were like a safety belt on a roller coaster, preventing him from standing up. John looked at him with confusion, a little bit of annoyance, but Sherlock didn’t seem to notice, he looked at the ceiling and clapped his feet together to a rhythm John didn’t recognize. He seemed to have dance shoes on, which seemed odd for a wizard. But John didn’t really doubt that he danced, he was willing to bet he was brilliant, going by his everyday elegance. Sherlock was really odd, even for wizard standards. John didn’t know what to say or what to do, he couldn’t go anywhere, so he just stayed there, trying to ignore Sherlock’s leg slightly brushing his stomach.