Crazy Little Thing Called Love - Snowbaz

Chapter One

Chapter One

'If I could see you now, I'd try to make you sad somehow. But I can't so I'll cry instead'

- |BAZ| -

  It's unnecessarily grandiose to use an Open Sesame on the doors but I do it anyway because I know everyone will be in the dining hall, and I may as well make an entrance.

I wanted it this way, I wanted to be the only person who got to break the news that I'm back.

Of course, my eyes immediately travel to the nightmare trio's table, expecting to find Snow jumping to his feet as though I'm the Queen or Freddie Mercury making a star appearance. (We had one of those once during out third year.) (Lady Gaga is an astounding magician.)

Snow isn't at the table however, and his absence is accompanied with a lack of scattered scones and butter marks. Aside from my burning disappointment as I make my way over to the tea, I can't help but feel irritated that the day I finally return is the rare occasion Snow decides to skip breakfast. Typical.

I try not to appear restless as I sit myself at my usual table, sending a nod in greeting to my minions as I look back over at Bunce's table, as though Snow would have teleported there within the last couple of seconds. (There isn't a safe spell for that, only one that risks leaving a couple of limbs behind - for once I'm not speaking from experience.)

Bunce is sat reading a book, probably a textbook on the differentiations of pronunciation in vowels and consonants when casting a labour spell. Or she should be, considering that it's the one area of Watford Education of which she's drastically behind me in, rather than reaching at a close second to me. Crowley, she best not had caught up with me during my absence.

Wellbelove is sat opposite Bunce, but her neck is bent at an uncomfortable angle as she looks over towards me, trying to catch my eye. I know she expects something from me. A cool look. A meaningful glance. I don't give it to her because Snow isn't here to annoy with it, and what other motive would I have to entertain Wellbelove's damsel teen drama?

Snow doesn't show up throughout the remainder of breakfast. And he isn't in our Magic Words lesson. Or our Political Magick class either. When his name is called out, the teachers simply look around the room before moving onto the next person. Nobody seems at all uneased by the absence of the chosen one. Even Wellbelove appears bored. I can't discreetly study Bunce from where I'm sat.

I suppose it's possible that he's just on another mission from the Mage.

I'm eventually able to make my way to the Mummer's building, where my belongings should be waiting outside for me. They are. And I know that Snow is inside as I can already smell his unbalanced magic pooling over the edges of his vessel. I pull out my wand, reintroducing myself to the room with the usual spell. Usually I can still smell Snow's spilt blood as I do this, but it's been two months since he will have nicked his thumb to let himself in. He doesn't use the spell because he simply can't. He's never been good with words and I make it my job to torment him profusely because of that.

When I enter, the room is the mess it usually is, but I pay no attention to it as my eyes are instead immediately drawn to the glorious tragedy that's sprawled out across the bed beside mine.

It obvious something isn't right, mainly from the shine that glows from his tawny, freckled skin, made from both sweat and magic. But he isn't going to go off - I've been there enough when he does to know when he's going to. He's asleep, and his curls are wet and matted against his forehead, demanding all of my resistance to not push them back. He's not on top of his covers, but they're not on top of him either, instead being crumpled up by his feet. He's wearing trackie bottoms, but his glistening top half is naked. His mouth hangs open, drooling and letting out soft, yet uneven, snores. He's restless clearly, and I guess he's ill.