Fic: Head First and Eyes Closed
Title: Head First and Eyes Closed
Pairing: Albus Severus/OMC
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends belong to JKR
Summary: Al would be terrified if this were actually a date.
A/N: This story is a sequel to The Dinner Table, which was written for last year's lgbtfest , and so it won't make an ounce of sense without reading that first. Eventually it will be part two of four in a larger series titled Into the Lion's Den and Out of the Closet.
None of this would exist without my betas and enablers killing_rose and nokiaangel . Thanks for the encouragement and the grammar, and for generally putting up with me!
The Dinner Table
Head First and Eyes Closed
“How did you get into Gryffindor again?”
Al scowled at Drew and jabbed the simmering concoction with his wand. Potions class was probably not the best time to be having this whispered discussion; Al lowered his voice even further. “The stupid hat was wrong. I’m transferring to Hufflepuff.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “Not that we wouldn’t love to have you, but I don’t think it’s going to get you out of your date.”
“It’s not a date.”
In fact, Al had spent the entire holiday convincing himself it wasn’t a date. It had not been easy. A stubborn part of him kept insisting on holding out hope, reminding him that, statistically speaking, it was at least possible for Kirk to like boys, but Al had worked hard to beat that optimism into submission.
He and Kirk would never be more than friends. The sooner he resigned himself to the idea, the better.
By the time he had once again boarded the Hogwarts Express, Al had not only managed to successfully convince himself that it wouldn’t be a date, but he’d even managed to believe that there wouldn’t be anything at all. Kirk was just being nice. Al had read too much into empty, polite words.
It didn’t help when he returned to school and the first thing Kirk said to him was, “Hey, you free Saturday?”
So they weren’t empty words after all. But that didn’t make it a date.
“Well if it’s not a date,” Drew said, chopping the last of the ingredients, “then what are you so worried about?”
Al made a show of throwing them into the cauldron angrily without making a mess. After all his hard work, Drew’s casual reminder that hope still existed was not helping matters, especially since his non-date was tomorrow. Al had only brought it up in the first place looking for some reassurance that it wasn’t too late to back out. “Remind me to stop coming to you for advice,” he said.
Drew ignored him. “I mean, if he is, then great. And if he’s not, who cares? Just find someone else.”
“But how am I supposed to know?”
“I don’t know. I thought gay people could tell these things.”
“Shut up, idiot!” Al hissed, glancing around the classroom.
Only that was the problem, wasn’t it? Just because Al liked blokes didn’t mean he knew anything about being gay. He didn’t know how he was supposed to act or look. He didn’t know what two guys did together on a date, or how to recognize a date in the first place, and he definitely didn’t know how to recognize whether someone else was gay. On the day he came out, no owl had swooped down to deliver a letter with instructions. Most days, Al didn’t even feel that gay.
He stirred the cauldron a few times distractedly. “What was it like when you found out you were a wizard?” he eventually asked.
Drew shrugged. “It wasn’t as shocking as you’d think. It just took a while to convince my parents it wasn’t some elaborate prank.”
“No, I mean when you found out you had to go live with wizards. Or when you came to school. What was that like? My dad says muggle life is really different, so was it hard to get used to…I don’t know, the rules and everything?” He wasn’t saying this right, and Drew waited while he sorted it out. “Did you feel like a wizard, or did you just feel like someone who does magic?”
“What do you mean? Why would I feel any different?”
Of course. Leave it to Drew to go through a life-changing self-realization without it changing a thing.
Drew gave him a scrutinizing look. “Does this have anything to do with your date?”
“It’s not a date.”
Drew shrugged and turned back to the instructions, leaving the question of whom, exactly, Al was trying to convince unasked.
**
The next day was frustratingly clear and sunny.
Al walked to the Quidditch pitch as slowly as possible, his panic steadily rising with each step. What he needed was a plan, a way to determine Kirk’s sexuality as quickly and surreptitiously as possible. But Al had never been the strategist. It was why he had stopped playing chess with James ages ago; he was tired of seeing the bloody remains of his chess pieces strewn across the board. And he was already certain that this would be just as violently disastrous.
He passed the locker rooms at the entrance of the pitch, his brain forming unsolicited images of post-date snogging in the showers. No, no, no - he couldn’t think about things like that. That scenario was so far off in the improbable distance that it wasn’t even worth considering.
First he had to find out if Kirk was gay. Then he had to find out if he was interested. Then, and only then, could he worry about things like snogging. One anxiety at a time, please.
With a final steeling of his nerves, Al crossed the threshold onto the turf.
At first he didn’t see Kirk and breathed a sigh of relief. He wondered if he could still go back to the castle and play sick, Gryffindor pride be damned. But Kirk suddenly appeared out of nowhere, swooping to the ground in front of him and scaring Al half to death.
“You made it.”
Al recovered quickly enough to nod, but he gave up any attempt at being suave. “You weren’t waiting long, were you?”
Kirk grinned. “For you, Al? My whole life,” he said with exaggerated sincerity.
Al blanched, nearly losing his composure all over again. The problem, he suddenly realized, was that Kirk was natural flirt. It was how he had convinced Al to join the team last year. It was also the same exact charm he used on all his teammates, and the opposing team members, and his professors for that matter. If Al was looking for a sign, he would find no shortage of them.
So much for having a strategy.
Clutching his broom tightly, he tried matching Kirk’s casual smile. “Very funny.”
“I try,” said Kirk with a shrug.
“So how was the weather up there?” Al asked. He was fairly certain that not talking about the weather was the number one rule of dating, but it was an honest question as far as flying was concerned. And no one said this was a date.
“Bloody freezing. But the wind’s not too bad, and you know how it is. Warms up once you get started.”
“Well that’s good. So, should we…uh…” He gestured to the sky. So eloquent.
“Sure. I’ll race you around the pitch!”
Kirk shot off the ground, and after a moment’s hesitation, Al followed suit. It didn’t take long for Al to catch up despite Kirk’s head start. This was partially due to Al’s smaller stature, but it also had to do with the state-of-the-art broom that his dad had insisted on buying him. His professional quality brooms were always a source of embarrassment for Al, especially around Kirk, who was still riding his old Nimbus X10.
But Kirk didn’t seem to care about the actual competition of their race, and Al gradually relaxed. This he could understand. Despite his aversion to organized sports, Al was good on a broom, and right now it was a relief to be in the air. He zoomed around Kirk, laughing, and feeling as though he’d left at least some of his insecurities below him.
All in all, it wasn’t an unpleasant afternoon. Flying helped Al regain some of his confidence, and flying with Kirk felt familiar. It was a well-practiced set of interactions: no awkward or potentially flirtatious chatting, no misreading of body language, nothing like that. Just two blokes messing around on brooms. Easy.
Even physical contact took on a different meaning off the ground. Al was no stranger to knocking opponents off their brooms or mid-air collisions, so when Kirk suddenly appeared alongside him, flying so close that their knees actually touched, Al shoved him playfully and refused to think anything of it.
He wished he could stay suspended in the sky forever, suspended in this moment with Kirk where he didn’t have to worry about the consequences.
Of course, immediately after making that wish, the sun began to set and it became far too cold to continue, even with all the physical exertion and layers of clothing. They both landed on the grass, breathing heavily. As soon as Al touched ground, it all came rushing back, the apprehension, the nerves, the uncertainty. To make things worse, Kirk began laughing, and Al had no idea why.
“Your - your hair!” he explained, grinning widely.
Al reached up in horror. A single lock seemed to be sticking straight into the air, and he smoothed it back into place as best he could. He may have inherited his dad’s unruly hair, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Maybe you should try looking in a mirror yourself,” said Al in defense.
Kirk ran his fingers through his own hair, ruffling it up further, and Al couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that better?” Kirk asked.
“Oh yeah, loads.”
That’s when Al saw his opening. He couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer, this testing the waters, this looking for signs. He would find out for sure, one way or the other. If Kirk was straight, too bad. If he was gay…well, Al would conjure that bridge when he came to it.
Taking a deep breath, Al said as casually as he could manage, “You’re just using the Quidditch look to attract the girls, aren’t you?”
Kirk looked down at him and smirked. “Of course, but don’t tell anyone.”
And there it was. Over before it began. Everything that afternoon took on a new, harsh light; Kirk was no longer the ambiguous flirt, but your typical straight bloke with an uncomfortable sense of humor. In the end, it didn’t matter how much Al had prepared himself for this moment. It still stung, the disappointment weighing him down like lead.
They continued talking and joking for a few minutes longer. Al still wanted him as a friend, but he wasn’t sure if that were healthy, or even possible. Maybe it would be possible if Kirk were someone other than Kirk, someone who wasn’t constantly smiling at him like that, or finding reasons to casually touch him. No matter how hard he tried, Al couldn’t turn off his attraction, and that just wasn’t fair to Kirk. When Al couldn’t take it anymore, he abruptly interrupted whatever it was Kirk was saying.
“It’s getting dark,” he said.
“I noticed,” Kirk replied.
“I should get going.”
“Oh. Okay.” Kirk frowned as Al picked up his broom.
“Er, I had fun. I’ll see you around.” Al waved awkwardly and turned toward the castle, leaving Kirk behind on the pitch.
It was the longest, most depressing walk of his life, but at least he had survived. And he’d not done anything mortifying like trying to kiss the poor bloke. Really, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.
Al sighed and shifted his broom from one shoulder to the other. Who knew? Maybe one day he’d look back on his first non-date and laugh.
**
“AL! What the hell did you do?”
James burst into the dormitory where Al was alone studying, and Al determinedly hid behind his book. He wasn’t interested in anything James had to say that started off with that.
“Sod off, James.” James ripped the book from his hands, nearly tearing a page in the process. “Oi! Watch it!”
James ignored him. “I was just talking with Kirk. He says you completely blew him off the other day. What’s wrong with you? Why do you have to act like such a little wanker?”
The blood rushed to Al’s face. It had been three days since that disaster of an evening, and he had been working very hard not to think of it, or the moment when he finally learned that he had been pining for nothing all along. The last thing he needed was to relive the moment with his complete tosser of a brother. He resisted the urge to reach out for his book; James would probably just levitate it over his head, and then permanently stick it to the ceiling.
“I didn’t blow him off, you arse. I left. It was getting dark out, so I left like any normal, straight bloke would’ve done. It’s none of your bloody business anyway.”
James scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure who you’re trying fool here, you ponce.”
The frustration he had been trying to suppress began boiling under his skin. “I’m not trying to fool anyone! I’m just not wasting my time chasing after things I can’t have, alright?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Kirk!” Al shouted in frustration. “I’m talking about stupid heterosexual Kirk who’d probably hit on anything with two legs, and I’m done with him! So just lay off!”
James stared at Al for a long time. Then he whacked him on the head with his own book. “Al, you fucking moron! Kirk is the biggest bloody poof I know!”
For a brief moment, his words floated in the air without meaning. Al blinked at James, who continued to stare at him as though he were mental. Then, suddenly and painfully, comprehension crashed over him, filling his gut with nausea and making it difficult to breath or speak. “What?” he managed to whisper.
“You didn’t even know that?” James threw up his hands in exasperation.
Now his breath was coming back, but it was fast and panicked. James was lying. James was a prat who liked to torture him for no apparent reason. Oh, fuck, it was worse - James knew all along, and now it was too late and Al had ruined everything. “Why didn’t you tell me, you prick?”
“I thought you knew! I mean, you were on the team for an entire year. And you never noticed anything?”
“What was I supposed to notice?”
James was now grinning at some private joke, and Al really hated his brother. “You’ve got to be kidding. Kirk can’t go ten minutes at practice without mentioning the stiff piece of wood between his legs. And didn’t you see when he started flirting with the Slytherin captain last year? It was brilliant. The guy was so freaked out they nearly forfeited the match! Hell, even Lily knows. She was asking me if you two were ‘boyfriends’ yet.” James rolled his eyes at the word.
Al groaned and covered his face with his hands. He wasn’t cut out to be gay. He wasn’t cut out to be anything other than lonely and miserable for the rest of his life.
James shook his head and sighed. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
“Well now what do I do?”
“Don’t look at me. You’re the one who screwed things up. If it helps, Kirk’s not pissed off or anything - he was just asking if you were angry with him.”
Al looked up apprehensively. “Great. And what did you tell him?”
“I said to talk to you. I’m staying out of your little drama.” James turned to leave, throwing the book back onto the bed.
“Wait, James.”
“What?”
Al paused, fearing the worse. “Did you tell him? About me?”
“Merlin, Al. I’m not going to do everything for you. Tell him yourself.”
James left, and Al crawled under his sheets to hide from his own humiliation.
**
It took an entire week before Al finally worked up the nerve to approach Kirk as he was leaving his dorm. At least, he had meant to simply approach him, but it turned into more of an ambush as he leapt from the shadows.
Kirk instinctively jumped back. “Merlin, Al, you scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry.”
“Just warn me next time.” Kirk began to walk away.
“Wait, Kirk.”
“Did you want something?” His tone wasn’t exactly cruel, but it was a far cry from the warmth Al was accustomed to.
“Um, I was wondering…”
“Yes?” he cut in impatiently.
“Well, er, I have this - this Charms essay that I’m having trouble with. And…well, James said you’re really good with Charms. And I know you’re busy with N.E.W.T.s and all, but I - I was wondering if, um, maybe you could look it over with me sometime? That is, if you get a chance?”
Kirk eyed him with a slight frown and then shrugged. “Sure, why not. Tomorrow good?”
“Tomorrow’s great.”
“Fine. Meet me in the library after dinner.”
Kirk walked off without another word, and Al’s heart sank. He wasn’t sure if he had already damaged things beyond repair, or if Kirk had ever even fancied him in the first place, but Kirk’s tone made one thing seem certain: if he had been interested before, he no longer was. And now Al had to sit through a hell of his own making, another brand new opportunity to have his hopes dashed.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out?
**
Al didn’t back out and he didn’t even consult with Drew first. He was in Gryffindor and he should bloody well act like it. The next evening, Al made sure to arrive at the library early. Kirk finally showed up twenty minutes later.
Al smiled nervously as Kirk dropped into the seat next to him, but Kirk had his eyes on Al’s parchment, not his face.
“You already wrote it.”
Al picked up his quill and began absently scratching into the table. “Well, I sort of started it, but there were some things I wasn’t sure about.”
Kirk picked up the pages and rifled through them. “Like what? It looks pretty complete to me.”
This was a horrible idea, because Al really hadn’t needed the help. In fact, he had more or less finished the essay a few days ago. What was he thinking - that Kirk would arrive and the essay would be immediately abandoned in favor of passionate snogging? He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he could see now that it wasn’t going to happen. There was no way to bridge the gap between reality and his overactive imagination, not when Kirk was sitting there with such indifference. The only thing left to do was to play dumb like some lovesick girl, and hope to save face while he bought himself more time.
Al picked a topic at random, and only half listened as Kirk explained it in a monotone. Kirk was all business, as formal and apathetic as he was usually friendly and engaged. When Al tried to joke around, Kirk merely smiled politely and went back to the essay. And every two minutes Kirk looked up at him and asked, “So…is that it?” and Al had to invent yet another thing he didn’t understand, all the while scribbling notes for things on which he already had extensive notes.
Maybe if Al were better at this being gay thing, it never would have come to this. Maybe there was a specific way of interacting that he’d not learned. Maybe he just wasn’t gay enough for Kirk to be able to tell. But what was he supposed to do, jump up on the table proclaiming his sexuality? Maybe - and this was such a terrible possibility that it had to be true - maybe Kirk did know. Maybe he knew all along and just wasn’t interested. Even though Al wasn’t aware of any other gay students at Hogwarts, he somehow had the impression that Kirk would have no shortage of blokes to choose from, and maybe Al wasn’t even on that list.
When Al ran out of questions to ask and Kirk got up to leave, he panicked. He couldn’t let this night be another disaster, not after the last time, but he was completely out of ideas. Al stood, making a show of gathering his parchment together, and avoiding eye contact.
“Thanks again for the help,” he said.
“Yeah, sure. Although I don’t know why you needed it. You seem to know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, well, it’s still good to have someone look over it, you know?”
Kirk shrugged. “I guess. Let me know how you do.”
“Kirk, wait.”
Kirk rubbed a hand over his face, this time making no effort to cover up his frustration. “What do you want, Al? It’s getting late.”
Al was taken aback by the sudden hostility, but he couldn’t think of any more excuses, and he didn’t have any more brilliant plans. So he grabbed the front of Kirk’s robes and leaned forward to kiss him.
Badly.
In fact, he wasn’t even sure it qualified as a kiss. It was more like dry lips being forced against dry, unwilling lips, not to mention a collision of noses. And before he could figure out how to make it better, Kirk gripped him by the shoulders and pushed him away.
He held Al at arm’s length and stared at him for a while. Al’s face was burning like the sun, his body nearly trembling with embarrassment, his hands clenching into fists in preparation for the fallout. That was when, alarmingly, Kirk burst out laughing.
“Bloody hell! You’ve been waiting all night to do that, haven’t you?”
It seemed pointless to deny it. “Maybe?”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier? You could have saved me the torture of revising that stupid essay. And why the hell did you run out on me last week?”
“I - I thought you were straight,” Al admitted quietly.
Kirk laughed even louder, and was immediately shushed by the librarian. “You thought I was straight?” he whispered. “You’re the one who’s a mystery. I thought you freaked out because I was hitting on you so bloody obviously.”
Al blinked up at him, too surprised for a moment to worry about anything else. “You were hitting on me?”
Kirk shook his head. “You’re something else, Potter.”
And before Al could wrap his head around this turn of events, Kirk yanked him back between the stacks and once again their mouths connected - only this time, in a way that made sense. Kirk came at him with a perfectly angled head and slightly parted lips, locking them with Al’s as though they were made to fit. Al practically shivered with excitement. Then, when Al felt something warm and wet against his lower lip, panic once again hit him with a brutal force.
He had no idea what he was doing.
Should he open his mouth? How would he know what to do with his tongue once he did? Would it require changing the position of his head? And what about his hands during all of this? One of Kirk’s calloused hands was wrapped around the back of Al’s neck, the other one threaded through his hair, and it felt bloody incredible. So did he copy his actions or go for variety? Really, was there anything he could do that wouldn’t make his inexperience incredibly, blindingly obvious?
As these thoughts raced through Al’s brain, the kiss seemed to slow, and Kirk’s hands gradually loosened their hold. Al realized, with a fresh wave of nausea, that he had already made the worst possible mistake: he had stopped reciprocating. He had been so concerned over doing the wrong thing, that now he wasn’t doing anything at all. Shite.
Al made a swift decision, then and there, a strategy he probably should have employed from the start: no more thinking.
He was done with thinking and worrying and overanalyzing. It only ever made things worse. There would be no more worrying about what he did or did not know about being with someone or being gay. He was in Gryffindor, and despite what his mates constantly told him, he belonged there. He could jump in head first and eyes closed with the best of them.
To prove this point, he closed his eyes, grabbed Kirk by the waist, and dove into Kirk’s mouth with his tongue. Whether or not that was acceptable, it sent currents down his spine. Nor would he let himself care that Kirk was probably far more experienced. All he cared about was the press of their mouths, the feel of their tongues sliding together, and the taste of Kirk’s breath, entirely unlike how he had imagined it.
It seemed only seconds before Kirk broke the kiss, looking thoroughly mussed and grinning widely. Al probably had a similarly stupid looking grin, but that, too, was ok.
Kirk brushed a stray lock from Al’s forehead, and one last concern made its way into Al thoughts.
So…what happens next?
But Kirk leaned down to brush their lips together one last time, and that thought vanished. If he was no longer permitted to think about the present, the future was definitely something Al could worry about later.
Part three: Down the List
Pairing: Albus Severus/OMC
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends belong to JKR
Summary: Al would be terrified if this were actually a date.
A/N: This story is a sequel to The Dinner Table, which was written for last year's lgbtfest , and so it won't make an ounce of sense without reading that first. Eventually it will be part two of four in a larger series titled Into the Lion's Den and Out of the Closet.
None of this would exist without my betas and enablers killing_rose and nokiaangel . Thanks for the encouragement and the grammar, and for generally putting up with me!
The Dinner Table
Head First and Eyes Closed
“How did you get into Gryffindor again?”
Al scowled at Drew and jabbed the simmering concoction with his wand. Potions class was probably not the best time to be having this whispered discussion; Al lowered his voice even further. “The stupid hat was wrong. I’m transferring to Hufflepuff.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “Not that we wouldn’t love to have you, but I don’t think it’s going to get you out of your date.”
“It’s not a date.”
In fact, Al had spent the entire holiday convincing himself it wasn’t a date. It had not been easy. A stubborn part of him kept insisting on holding out hope, reminding him that, statistically speaking, it was at least possible for Kirk to like boys, but Al had worked hard to beat that optimism into submission.
He and Kirk would never be more than friends. The sooner he resigned himself to the idea, the better.
By the time he had once again boarded the Hogwarts Express, Al had not only managed to successfully convince himself that it wouldn’t be a date, but he’d even managed to believe that there wouldn’t be anything at all. Kirk was just being nice. Al had read too much into empty, polite words.
It didn’t help when he returned to school and the first thing Kirk said to him was, “Hey, you free Saturday?”
So they weren’t empty words after all. But that didn’t make it a date.
“Well if it’s not a date,” Drew said, chopping the last of the ingredients, “then what are you so worried about?”
Al made a show of throwing them into the cauldron angrily without making a mess. After all his hard work, Drew’s casual reminder that hope still existed was not helping matters, especially since his non-date was tomorrow. Al had only brought it up in the first place looking for some reassurance that it wasn’t too late to back out. “Remind me to stop coming to you for advice,” he said.
Drew ignored him. “I mean, if he is, then great. And if he’s not, who cares? Just find someone else.”
“But how am I supposed to know?”
“I don’t know. I thought gay people could tell these things.”
“Shut up, idiot!” Al hissed, glancing around the classroom.
Only that was the problem, wasn’t it? Just because Al liked blokes didn’t mean he knew anything about being gay. He didn’t know how he was supposed to act or look. He didn’t know what two guys did together on a date, or how to recognize a date in the first place, and he definitely didn’t know how to recognize whether someone else was gay. On the day he came out, no owl had swooped down to deliver a letter with instructions. Most days, Al didn’t even feel that gay.
He stirred the cauldron a few times distractedly. “What was it like when you found out you were a wizard?” he eventually asked.
Drew shrugged. “It wasn’t as shocking as you’d think. It just took a while to convince my parents it wasn’t some elaborate prank.”
“No, I mean when you found out you had to go live with wizards. Or when you came to school. What was that like? My dad says muggle life is really different, so was it hard to get used to…I don’t know, the rules and everything?” He wasn’t saying this right, and Drew waited while he sorted it out. “Did you feel like a wizard, or did you just feel like someone who does magic?”
“What do you mean? Why would I feel any different?”
Of course. Leave it to Drew to go through a life-changing self-realization without it changing a thing.
Drew gave him a scrutinizing look. “Does this have anything to do with your date?”
“It’s not a date.”
Drew shrugged and turned back to the instructions, leaving the question of whom, exactly, Al was trying to convince unasked.
**
The next day was frustratingly clear and sunny.
Al walked to the Quidditch pitch as slowly as possible, his panic steadily rising with each step. What he needed was a plan, a way to determine Kirk’s sexuality as quickly and surreptitiously as possible. But Al had never been the strategist. It was why he had stopped playing chess with James ages ago; he was tired of seeing the bloody remains of his chess pieces strewn across the board. And he was already certain that this would be just as violently disastrous.
He passed the locker rooms at the entrance of the pitch, his brain forming unsolicited images of post-date snogging in the showers. No, no, no - he couldn’t think about things like that. That scenario was so far off in the improbable distance that it wasn’t even worth considering.
First he had to find out if Kirk was gay. Then he had to find out if he was interested. Then, and only then, could he worry about things like snogging. One anxiety at a time, please.
With a final steeling of his nerves, Al crossed the threshold onto the turf.
At first he didn’t see Kirk and breathed a sigh of relief. He wondered if he could still go back to the castle and play sick, Gryffindor pride be damned. But Kirk suddenly appeared out of nowhere, swooping to the ground in front of him and scaring Al half to death.
“You made it.”
Al recovered quickly enough to nod, but he gave up any attempt at being suave. “You weren’t waiting long, were you?”
Kirk grinned. “For you, Al? My whole life,” he said with exaggerated sincerity.
Al blanched, nearly losing his composure all over again. The problem, he suddenly realized, was that Kirk was natural flirt. It was how he had convinced Al to join the team last year. It was also the same exact charm he used on all his teammates, and the opposing team members, and his professors for that matter. If Al was looking for a sign, he would find no shortage of them.
So much for having a strategy.
Clutching his broom tightly, he tried matching Kirk’s casual smile. “Very funny.”
“I try,” said Kirk with a shrug.
“So how was the weather up there?” Al asked. He was fairly certain that not talking about the weather was the number one rule of dating, but it was an honest question as far as flying was concerned. And no one said this was a date.
“Bloody freezing. But the wind’s not too bad, and you know how it is. Warms up once you get started.”
“Well that’s good. So, should we…uh…” He gestured to the sky. So eloquent.
“Sure. I’ll race you around the pitch!”
Kirk shot off the ground, and after a moment’s hesitation, Al followed suit. It didn’t take long for Al to catch up despite Kirk’s head start. This was partially due to Al’s smaller stature, but it also had to do with the state-of-the-art broom that his dad had insisted on buying him. His professional quality brooms were always a source of embarrassment for Al, especially around Kirk, who was still riding his old Nimbus X10.
But Kirk didn’t seem to care about the actual competition of their race, and Al gradually relaxed. This he could understand. Despite his aversion to organized sports, Al was good on a broom, and right now it was a relief to be in the air. He zoomed around Kirk, laughing, and feeling as though he’d left at least some of his insecurities below him.
All in all, it wasn’t an unpleasant afternoon. Flying helped Al regain some of his confidence, and flying with Kirk felt familiar. It was a well-practiced set of interactions: no awkward or potentially flirtatious chatting, no misreading of body language, nothing like that. Just two blokes messing around on brooms. Easy.
Even physical contact took on a different meaning off the ground. Al was no stranger to knocking opponents off their brooms or mid-air collisions, so when Kirk suddenly appeared alongside him, flying so close that their knees actually touched, Al shoved him playfully and refused to think anything of it.
He wished he could stay suspended in the sky forever, suspended in this moment with Kirk where he didn’t have to worry about the consequences.
Of course, immediately after making that wish, the sun began to set and it became far too cold to continue, even with all the physical exertion and layers of clothing. They both landed on the grass, breathing heavily. As soon as Al touched ground, it all came rushing back, the apprehension, the nerves, the uncertainty. To make things worse, Kirk began laughing, and Al had no idea why.
“Your - your hair!” he explained, grinning widely.
Al reached up in horror. A single lock seemed to be sticking straight into the air, and he smoothed it back into place as best he could. He may have inherited his dad’s unruly hair, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Maybe you should try looking in a mirror yourself,” said Al in defense.
Kirk ran his fingers through his own hair, ruffling it up further, and Al couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that better?” Kirk asked.
“Oh yeah, loads.”
That’s when Al saw his opening. He couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer, this testing the waters, this looking for signs. He would find out for sure, one way or the other. If Kirk was straight, too bad. If he was gay…well, Al would conjure that bridge when he came to it.
Taking a deep breath, Al said as casually as he could manage, “You’re just using the Quidditch look to attract the girls, aren’t you?”
Kirk looked down at him and smirked. “Of course, but don’t tell anyone.”
And there it was. Over before it began. Everything that afternoon took on a new, harsh light; Kirk was no longer the ambiguous flirt, but your typical straight bloke with an uncomfortable sense of humor. In the end, it didn’t matter how much Al had prepared himself for this moment. It still stung, the disappointment weighing him down like lead.
They continued talking and joking for a few minutes longer. Al still wanted him as a friend, but he wasn’t sure if that were healthy, or even possible. Maybe it would be possible if Kirk were someone other than Kirk, someone who wasn’t constantly smiling at him like that, or finding reasons to casually touch him. No matter how hard he tried, Al couldn’t turn off his attraction, and that just wasn’t fair to Kirk. When Al couldn’t take it anymore, he abruptly interrupted whatever it was Kirk was saying.
“It’s getting dark,” he said.
“I noticed,” Kirk replied.
“I should get going.”
“Oh. Okay.” Kirk frowned as Al picked up his broom.
“Er, I had fun. I’ll see you around.” Al waved awkwardly and turned toward the castle, leaving Kirk behind on the pitch.
It was the longest, most depressing walk of his life, but at least he had survived. And he’d not done anything mortifying like trying to kiss the poor bloke. Really, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.
Al sighed and shifted his broom from one shoulder to the other. Who knew? Maybe one day he’d look back on his first non-date and laugh.
**
“AL! What the hell did you do?”
James burst into the dormitory where Al was alone studying, and Al determinedly hid behind his book. He wasn’t interested in anything James had to say that started off with that.
“Sod off, James.” James ripped the book from his hands, nearly tearing a page in the process. “Oi! Watch it!”
James ignored him. “I was just talking with Kirk. He says you completely blew him off the other day. What’s wrong with you? Why do you have to act like such a little wanker?”
The blood rushed to Al’s face. It had been three days since that disaster of an evening, and he had been working very hard not to think of it, or the moment when he finally learned that he had been pining for nothing all along. The last thing he needed was to relive the moment with his complete tosser of a brother. He resisted the urge to reach out for his book; James would probably just levitate it over his head, and then permanently stick it to the ceiling.
“I didn’t blow him off, you arse. I left. It was getting dark out, so I left like any normal, straight bloke would’ve done. It’s none of your bloody business anyway.”
James scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure who you’re trying fool here, you ponce.”
The frustration he had been trying to suppress began boiling under his skin. “I’m not trying to fool anyone! I’m just not wasting my time chasing after things I can’t have, alright?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Kirk!” Al shouted in frustration. “I’m talking about stupid heterosexual Kirk who’d probably hit on anything with two legs, and I’m done with him! So just lay off!”
James stared at Al for a long time. Then he whacked him on the head with his own book. “Al, you fucking moron! Kirk is the biggest bloody poof I know!”
For a brief moment, his words floated in the air without meaning. Al blinked at James, who continued to stare at him as though he were mental. Then, suddenly and painfully, comprehension crashed over him, filling his gut with nausea and making it difficult to breath or speak. “What?” he managed to whisper.
“You didn’t even know that?” James threw up his hands in exasperation.
Now his breath was coming back, but it was fast and panicked. James was lying. James was a prat who liked to torture him for no apparent reason. Oh, fuck, it was worse - James knew all along, and now it was too late and Al had ruined everything. “Why didn’t you tell me, you prick?”
“I thought you knew! I mean, you were on the team for an entire year. And you never noticed anything?”
“What was I supposed to notice?”
James was now grinning at some private joke, and Al really hated his brother. “You’ve got to be kidding. Kirk can’t go ten minutes at practice without mentioning the stiff piece of wood between his legs. And didn’t you see when he started flirting with the Slytherin captain last year? It was brilliant. The guy was so freaked out they nearly forfeited the match! Hell, even Lily knows. She was asking me if you two were ‘boyfriends’ yet.” James rolled his eyes at the word.
Al groaned and covered his face with his hands. He wasn’t cut out to be gay. He wasn’t cut out to be anything other than lonely and miserable for the rest of his life.
James shook his head and sighed. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
“Well now what do I do?”
“Don’t look at me. You’re the one who screwed things up. If it helps, Kirk’s not pissed off or anything - he was just asking if you were angry with him.”
Al looked up apprehensively. “Great. And what did you tell him?”
“I said to talk to you. I’m staying out of your little drama.” James turned to leave, throwing the book back onto the bed.
“Wait, James.”
“What?”
Al paused, fearing the worse. “Did you tell him? About me?”
“Merlin, Al. I’m not going to do everything for you. Tell him yourself.”
James left, and Al crawled under his sheets to hide from his own humiliation.
**
It took an entire week before Al finally worked up the nerve to approach Kirk as he was leaving his dorm. At least, he had meant to simply approach him, but it turned into more of an ambush as he leapt from the shadows.
Kirk instinctively jumped back. “Merlin, Al, you scared the shit out of me!”
“Sorry.”
“Just warn me next time.” Kirk began to walk away.
“Wait, Kirk.”
“Did you want something?” His tone wasn’t exactly cruel, but it was a far cry from the warmth Al was accustomed to.
“Um, I was wondering…”
“Yes?” he cut in impatiently.
“Well, er, I have this - this Charms essay that I’m having trouble with. And…well, James said you’re really good with Charms. And I know you’re busy with N.E.W.T.s and all, but I - I was wondering if, um, maybe you could look it over with me sometime? That is, if you get a chance?”
Kirk eyed him with a slight frown and then shrugged. “Sure, why not. Tomorrow good?”
“Tomorrow’s great.”
“Fine. Meet me in the library after dinner.”
Kirk walked off without another word, and Al’s heart sank. He wasn’t sure if he had already damaged things beyond repair, or if Kirk had ever even fancied him in the first place, but Kirk’s tone made one thing seem certain: if he had been interested before, he no longer was. And now Al had to sit through a hell of his own making, another brand new opportunity to have his hopes dashed.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out?
**
Al didn’t back out and he didn’t even consult with Drew first. He was in Gryffindor and he should bloody well act like it. The next evening, Al made sure to arrive at the library early. Kirk finally showed up twenty minutes later.
Al smiled nervously as Kirk dropped into the seat next to him, but Kirk had his eyes on Al’s parchment, not his face.
“You already wrote it.”
Al picked up his quill and began absently scratching into the table. “Well, I sort of started it, but there were some things I wasn’t sure about.”
Kirk picked up the pages and rifled through them. “Like what? It looks pretty complete to me.”
This was a horrible idea, because Al really hadn’t needed the help. In fact, he had more or less finished the essay a few days ago. What was he thinking - that Kirk would arrive and the essay would be immediately abandoned in favor of passionate snogging? He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he could see now that it wasn’t going to happen. There was no way to bridge the gap between reality and his overactive imagination, not when Kirk was sitting there with such indifference. The only thing left to do was to play dumb like some lovesick girl, and hope to save face while he bought himself more time.
Al picked a topic at random, and only half listened as Kirk explained it in a monotone. Kirk was all business, as formal and apathetic as he was usually friendly and engaged. When Al tried to joke around, Kirk merely smiled politely and went back to the essay. And every two minutes Kirk looked up at him and asked, “So…is that it?” and Al had to invent yet another thing he didn’t understand, all the while scribbling notes for things on which he already had extensive notes.
Maybe if Al were better at this being gay thing, it never would have come to this. Maybe there was a specific way of interacting that he’d not learned. Maybe he just wasn’t gay enough for Kirk to be able to tell. But what was he supposed to do, jump up on the table proclaiming his sexuality? Maybe - and this was such a terrible possibility that it had to be true - maybe Kirk did know. Maybe he knew all along and just wasn’t interested. Even though Al wasn’t aware of any other gay students at Hogwarts, he somehow had the impression that Kirk would have no shortage of blokes to choose from, and maybe Al wasn’t even on that list.
When Al ran out of questions to ask and Kirk got up to leave, he panicked. He couldn’t let this night be another disaster, not after the last time, but he was completely out of ideas. Al stood, making a show of gathering his parchment together, and avoiding eye contact.
“Thanks again for the help,” he said.
“Yeah, sure. Although I don’t know why you needed it. You seem to know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, well, it’s still good to have someone look over it, you know?”
Kirk shrugged. “I guess. Let me know how you do.”
“Kirk, wait.”
Kirk rubbed a hand over his face, this time making no effort to cover up his frustration. “What do you want, Al? It’s getting late.”
Al was taken aback by the sudden hostility, but he couldn’t think of any more excuses, and he didn’t have any more brilliant plans. So he grabbed the front of Kirk’s robes and leaned forward to kiss him.
Badly.
In fact, he wasn’t even sure it qualified as a kiss. It was more like dry lips being forced against dry, unwilling lips, not to mention a collision of noses. And before he could figure out how to make it better, Kirk gripped him by the shoulders and pushed him away.
He held Al at arm’s length and stared at him for a while. Al’s face was burning like the sun, his body nearly trembling with embarrassment, his hands clenching into fists in preparation for the fallout. That was when, alarmingly, Kirk burst out laughing.
“Bloody hell! You’ve been waiting all night to do that, haven’t you?”
It seemed pointless to deny it. “Maybe?”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier? You could have saved me the torture of revising that stupid essay. And why the hell did you run out on me last week?”
“I - I thought you were straight,” Al admitted quietly.
Kirk laughed even louder, and was immediately shushed by the librarian. “You thought I was straight?” he whispered. “You’re the one who’s a mystery. I thought you freaked out because I was hitting on you so bloody obviously.”
Al blinked up at him, too surprised for a moment to worry about anything else. “You were hitting on me?”
Kirk shook his head. “You’re something else, Potter.”
And before Al could wrap his head around this turn of events, Kirk yanked him back between the stacks and once again their mouths connected - only this time, in a way that made sense. Kirk came at him with a perfectly angled head and slightly parted lips, locking them with Al’s as though they were made to fit. Al practically shivered with excitement. Then, when Al felt something warm and wet against his lower lip, panic once again hit him with a brutal force.
He had no idea what he was doing.
Should he open his mouth? How would he know what to do with his tongue once he did? Would it require changing the position of his head? And what about his hands during all of this? One of Kirk’s calloused hands was wrapped around the back of Al’s neck, the other one threaded through his hair, and it felt bloody incredible. So did he copy his actions or go for variety? Really, was there anything he could do that wouldn’t make his inexperience incredibly, blindingly obvious?
As these thoughts raced through Al’s brain, the kiss seemed to slow, and Kirk’s hands gradually loosened their hold. Al realized, with a fresh wave of nausea, that he had already made the worst possible mistake: he had stopped reciprocating. He had been so concerned over doing the wrong thing, that now he wasn’t doing anything at all. Shite.
Al made a swift decision, then and there, a strategy he probably should have employed from the start: no more thinking.
He was done with thinking and worrying and overanalyzing. It only ever made things worse. There would be no more worrying about what he did or did not know about being with someone or being gay. He was in Gryffindor, and despite what his mates constantly told him, he belonged there. He could jump in head first and eyes closed with the best of them.
To prove this point, he closed his eyes, grabbed Kirk by the waist, and dove into Kirk’s mouth with his tongue. Whether or not that was acceptable, it sent currents down his spine. Nor would he let himself care that Kirk was probably far more experienced. All he cared about was the press of their mouths, the feel of their tongues sliding together, and the taste of Kirk’s breath, entirely unlike how he had imagined it.
It seemed only seconds before Kirk broke the kiss, looking thoroughly mussed and grinning widely. Al probably had a similarly stupid looking grin, but that, too, was ok.
Kirk brushed a stray lock from Al’s forehead, and one last concern made its way into Al thoughts.
So…what happens next?
But Kirk leaned down to brush their lips together one last time, and that thought vanished. If he was no longer permitted to think about the present, the future was definitely something Al could worry about later.
Part three: Down the List