I Heard A Rumour That We're In Love // Lams (HAMILTON)

Chapter Four

A/N: Sup folks, how are you? Nothing new from me today, except to ask you to leave feedback, it's like crack to me. Enjoy!

Trigger warnings: Alcohol abuse, implied eating disorders, unsafe binding (be safe folks!)

John's POV:

The train slows to a stop, signalling that we've reached Hogsmeade station. I stand, grabbing my guitar in its case from the overhead rack. I know that if I left it there it would be taken to my dorm, but I don't trust anyone with it but me. Can't risk anyone snooping at the endless pages of hastily written sheet music written on a night so long ago. A night that was probably addled with drink or drugs, just to numb myself, pouring my heart out onto a page, then finding a soft melody to accompany it. Nobody gets to see the music or lyrics, let alone actually hear me play. It's too personal. I sling the case over my shoulder, the familiar weight grounding me, rather than allowing to spiral into my thoughts.

"You play?" Alex asks, one brow cocked. I shrug in response.

"Sometimes. I'm not very good though." I've been playing for years, but I've never been very confident in my ability. Probably from my dad constantly tearing me down. The only who's heard one of my songs is my mum, but she's not around to listen now, is she?

"You'll have to play for me someday." I know he only means it as an offhand comment, probably doesn't expect me to, but the idea is still terrifying to me. I haven't even shown Laf my songs. Let alone a gorgeous almost-stranger.

"Maybe one day." I force a smile as we pile out onto the platform.

The path to the school is illuminated by the artificial orange glow of street lights, peeking out from the border of towering trees. The carriages spaced an even distance apart are stationary. Laf and Herc move to one, gesturing for me and Alex to join them. Alex just stands, mouth agape.

"What are those, pulling the carriages?"

"Nothing's pulling the carriages, mon ami," Laf says, brow furrowed with confusion.

"They're called thestrals," I butt in, "Only certain people can see them."

"Why can't they see them?" I bite my lip, forcing my hands deep into my pockets.

"They can only be seen by people who've witnessed a death." It's so matter-of-fact. You wouldn't think this was as painful as it is.

"Can you see them?" It's an innocent question, but holds so much weight.

"Yes." It's not open for discussion. It's just a fact. One that I'm not going to elaborate on. I climb into the carriage, sitting opposite Laf, and Alex climbs in after me.

The journey to the castle is lacking some of its usual beauty, the awkward silence cast over us by our previous conversation makes the atmosphere too tense to enjoy. Yet Alex still gazes up at the castle in sheer wonder, his chocolate brown eyes glistening in the half-light, the golden glow and dramatic shadows cast upon his features only making him more handsome. I need to stop thinking like this. It's not like I have a chance with him anyway. Why would he want me?

Stop. Just let yourself enjoy the moment.

It's only once a year I get to experience this.

The first sight of Hogwarts never fails to take my breath away. The towering spires, like fingertips stretching to brush against the sky, falling among the clouds. The soft glow from the windows, just tiny flecks of light from this distance, yet still beautiful. The glistening reflection in the black lake. It's all so surreal. Something out of a storybook. I've heard stories of the castles grandeur since I was young, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing. It used to be an unattainable fantasy. Now that it's been my reality for five years, it still amazes me.