BITE - a snowbaz fanfiction

13

Fiona wants to visit today.

She's worried about me, honestly, who wouldn't be, but now's not the time to sit around and chat and drink tea and pretend that the Veil hasn't just let my mother through to cast me out.

So.

I suppose I'm taking Simon back to my flat, and we'll see her there.

(She'd better bring some vodka.)

(I don't want tea, I need to be drunk.)

Merlin, I don't want her seeing me in this condition, pale as ever and suffering the aftermath of burns.

And I don't want to tell her that I have no idea how I'm supposed to fix this problem, or that it's not only a danger to my life, but also to every dead person with a grudge for a living.

This could be the apocalypse if we don't figure it out.

When I open the door to my flat, I'm surprised to see Fiona sitting on the counter, dangling a glass of wine in her hands.

(She's an unabashed wine mom. I'm ashamed of her.)

"Fiona!"

Simon timidly follows me inside.

"Basil, Jesus Christ, what happened to you?"

"Fiona, you're too good, stop showering me with all these compliments."

She crosses her arms and gives me a look that says, What's really going on?

"We need to talk," I say in a low voice.

"Natasha came back and cast you out?"

"Yes."

She shakes her head.

"There's proof right here, Fiona."

"Why haven't you healed yet? If this was a week ago . . . . There are spells for injuries like this."

"I haven't . . ." My voice falters. Simon nudges me, and I take a breath. "I haven't used my magic much since, and Simon's magic doesn't heal me completely."

She puts her heel up on the coffee table. "The Bunce girl, she's got enough magic."

"She's in America," Simon mumbles.

I cross my legs and rest my chin on my hand. "So, the issue is, I don't know if she'll come back for me, or if there are others that can get through. I mean, the Veil could be crumbling before our eyes, and there's nothing we can do about it."

Fiona tilts her head in a pondering expression, and we watch her silently realize something.

"What is it?" I ask.

"It's just—There's really only one thing I can think of."

I lean forward.

"Simon could—by the way, if you ever break his heart again, I'll—"

"Fiona," I mutter.

"All right—so, Simon closed up this tear in the magical atmosphere, in the dimensions of time and whatnot, so there's got to be a way to close a tear in the Veil, someone so powerful putting all their magic into it, to close the hole."

"I can't . . ." Simon's quiet voice wavers.

I turn to him. "You don't have to be a saviour again."

The words may come across as aggressive, but he knows I don't mean it like that. I'm telling him that he's not obligated to save the world—not again.

He nods like he still doesn't believe me.

I'm about to ask Fiona who she means can close the Veil, but she's already begun rambling on about something that happened a week ago, a much more dire situation, apparently, than the Veil.

Both Simon and I eventually give into her lively chatting—once she offers us a drink. (Thank heavens.)

We reminisce for a little while about the times at Watford, the grudges we held against each other, and how Simon did not know that I'd had a crush on him since our first year.

It's bittersweet.

But it's sweeter, moreso, because I'm not reminiscing without Simon where I want him to be, as my enemy still instead of my lover.

"Are you going to stay the night?" I ask her after finishing a second glass. I've giggled ferociously all night—it's hilarious to Simon how feverish I am, and how terrible of an alcohol tolerance I have.

"Sure, I'll be fine. The walls are thick enough."

Simon snorts. "They are not."

I turn around in surprise and raise my eyebrows. "And you know this, how?"

He shrugs with a smug expression. "You've gotten Baz drunk, you don't know how much he begs . . . ."

"Christ, Simon, my aunt's here, I would not," I say defensively.

He shakes his head, smiling, and my heart flutters. "Would you like another drink?"