Rosebud Boys (Snowbaz fanfic)

Numb

That's it. This bloody imbecile. He couldn't have meant any of it. He wouldn't cross this many lines, he's too kind. Has he changed? And what was it he said about Agatha? Frankly, I don't care. He could have slit my throat in the hallway there and I would have thanked him. Anything else... anything he did would have been better than what he DID do. He just... I can't think. My vision is blurry. Are these tears? I'm close to passing out. At least I can skip over the crying myself to sleep part. His words are swimming through my head... Monster. Monster. You're a monster. You did this.

I start to believe them. Maybe I am just an evil beast. Perhaps they're right when they say that vampires don't deserve access to Watford. A hot trail blazes down the side of my face. I know what I should do, but I can't bring myself to do it.

I push tears away from my eyes, I command them to stop but they don't listen. Nobody ever does. If my mother were here.... if she were here, well. I wouldn't be. She would have done to me what she did to herself after she found out she had been bitten. She erupted into flame that she started herself. She would rather be burned alive than face what she would become. She would have.... 

I wish I wasn't a vampire. I wish my bright pale skin didn't contrast so deeply with my Egyptian family's. Above all else I wish I wasn't in love with Simon Snow.

Luckily, I've planned for this situation.

When all seems lost and there's no more hope for me.

There's a man in Romania who does deals in exchange for illicit spells. Exactly what kind of deals, no one knows for sure. What's certain is that if Charlie were to get caught, he would be executed on the spot. He's the perfect person to ask if you needed someone's head delivered to you on a silver platter. I find myself pacing in the candle lit hallway, cheeks wet, mind racing. The room isn't too far from here, but... well. I can't go back there. I'd sooner die. The Mage's office is closer, and far more useful to me now.

Well, I thought that it was until I heard very distinct, identifiable footsteps headed in the same direction. Snow's here. I don't think. I just run back to the room as fast as my legs can carry me, up all the stairs, past several sets of drunken idiots, past the blur of nothingness and into the safety of my own bed. The books I need are on my nightstand. I thumb through them frantically. My tears mar several pages with their presence. I can't even read a damned book without disgracing my mother.

Finally, I reach the page I'm looking for. The top reads, "To Forget." The page itself is vague and difficult to understand. This spell is also very, very illegal. The good news is, it's also nearly impossible to detect after it's been cast. The words are blurry, but I decide that's just because I'm weak and crying and that it shouldn't stop me from trading with Charlie.

"To Forget." The words are blaring sirens on the page, as if the book wants me to read between the lines and forget even seeing this page. This one spell alone could buy me the death of an army. The vague nature paired with my shaking hands makes it hard to read, and therefore hard to understand, but I get there. I always have. Luckily enough, this will be the last spell I ever have to learn.

Two days later, I'm writing a letter that holds no address. The contents inside are too dark and dangerous for this to be put anywhere near a post office, so I'll have to deliver it myself. I suppose I could possess a bird, but there are very few in the forest that could carry the weight of the package. I truly only need to bring myself, but... This is more fitting, I feel. The letter holds a list of things I need in return for this spell, or rather a list of options. Only one of which will eventually be the downfall of Simon Snow. Charlie just has to give me one, then I end our bickering for good. This will also start a war. The pressure is unbearable, but... It had to happen someday, I suppose. Said pressure will only be mine to bear for a few more days, anyhow.

The trek through the woods to find a bird fit for this kind of trip is long and tiring. The rest of me is too distraught over recent events to care. I ponder whether I should just cast a summoning spell. Eventually I decide against it. Those spells are finnicky at best, and loud and useless at worst. Exactly what I don't need. A brown quail examines me with her beady bird eyes. One glare from me and she flees. A peacock struts across the path without paying any mind to me. No, no... A sparrow calls from the leafy treetops above me. A woodpecker drills a hole into a tree nearby. An owl hoos from its nest.

I take the owl.

As the owl flies, a trip to Romania is none too difficult. Owls used to be the primary form of mail transport, about twenty years ago. Now they're just... birds. No one notices or cares if an owl goes missing anymore. The owl I'm possessing has fantastic flight capabilities, as though it were designed to carry long packages across oceans. Maybe it was, once upon a time.

Fitting, isn't it? No one will really care if I'm gone. They'll all dance on my grave.

Romania is rather uninteresting to me. I'm rather numb as it were, so I've haven't been taking it all in properly. It's still boring to me. I have a very important deal to make.

The hideout is impossible to find if you're not looking for it. The entrance is a hole in the ground that only the skinniest of worms could even get into, and even then it would have to be purposeful. To get in, you have to pour some of your own blood through. Most of the plants around the hole are dead, but some have taken on a sickening red hue. I wonder if I can even get in as an owl.

I look around for a sharp rock before remembering that I could just use my beak or claws. That works fine. I watch the droplets of blood seep through the hole as it widens enough for me to squeeze through.

I am greeted by a man in dark, ripped clothes. He looks as though he's killed people, and like people have tried to kill him. Like he's wanted, specifically dead. He takes one look at me, then at the letter, and gestures towards a door behind him. He's trying to be intimidating. I can't tell if it's working.

"Well, well." says a gruff voice from the back of the cavern. "Not every day we get an owl lookin' for trouble." The voice has traces of what may have once been an English accent, but it's doubtful that this mysterious person been back home in a very long time. It kind of sounds... American? Odd. He laughs in the choking, stifling way that only a truly awful person can before ripping the message off my leg. "Interestin'." he strokes the tiny hairs on his huge jaw. I notice a scar cascading down the side of his face. He might have been very handsome indeed, if not for the beast which clawed him down his cheek. "Baz, is it? You're askin' an awful lot a' me, here." His eyes glint with a fiery excitement. I stare him down. I know what I need. "If this spell works like ya say it does, son, I'll send a dragon down to your school. But if this spell backfires on me, rest assured that you won't wake up tomorrow." He says that like it's a threat.

He extends a hand. I lift a clawed foot. His magic infects the air around us as we seal the deal.

"Alright." He stands, and flicks his wand first at me, and I find myself back at Watford, slouched over my desk.

I pray to every god and demon that I can think of that that wasn't a dream.