Solidarity (And Some Kind of Integrity) 4/8
Title: Solidarity (And Some Kind of Integrity) 1/8
Prompt: In which Marcus Aquila is an outcast and a Gryffindor and Esca MacCunoval is a muggleborn and a Ravenclaw. During their years at Hogwarts, they forge new friendships, make unbelievable amounts of mistakes, are reckless and generally childish, do inappropriate things in inappropriate places and will never, ever, regret any of it.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Esca/Marcus
Art: bachaboska
Beta'd By: The never-endingly glorious and wonderful Anigram. Thank you so much for cheering me on and always making me write and generally being awesome and incredible. Without you, there would be no fic! <3
A/N: Also, HUUUUGE thanks go to poziomeczka for putting up with my constant messages and emails and for help with THAT scene. Without you and your astonishingly amazing work and dedication (not to mention the spectacular brainstorming at the very beginning), this fic would not be. <3
Spoilers/Warnings: Please bear in mind that because this fic is based in the UK and was written by someone based in the UK, the consenting age for that country was used (16 years). All characters participating in sexual acts are of consenting age. (: Strong language!
The Fourth Year
“How good are you at potions?” Marcus grimaced, attempting to shrug in a way that suggested modest success. Esca saw through it instantly, sighing heavily and rolling his eyes. “Do exactly as I tell you, alright? And try not to touch anything.” Marcus nodded. Right. Yes. He could do that. Folding his hands resolutely in his lap, he leant back in his chair, watching as Esca set up the cauldron. He was completely focused, sleeves rolled up, pencil tucked behind his ear, and biting his lip in that way he did whenever he was concentrating, which happened a lot and which made Marcus’ heart flutter in his chest, his face flush-
“When you’ve quite finished daydreaming, Marcus, read us the instructions, would you?” Esca’s voice cut through his thoughts, a smirk spreading across his face. Marcus cleared his throat awkwardly, moving to grab his textbook with shaking hands. “What do I do after the cauldron is set up?”
“Erm. Mix in ginger root until lime green.”
“Right.” Esca nodded, serious once more. “Pass me the ginger root.”
“I thought I wasn’t meant to touch anything?” Esca shot him a dirty look, scowling at Marcus’ wide grin.
“Just give it here.” Obediently, Marcus passed him the pot. “Thank you.” They progressed like that, with Marcus supplying instructions and ingredients, Esca mixing the potion and doing the work that required steady hands and concentration that Marcus could only dream of possessing, until the potion was almost finished. The time passed quickly, efficiently, and almost completely in silence. Marcus had learnt quite some time ago that Esca worked best when it was quiet, that his mind worked with silence, so he didn’t try to interrupt, or ask questions. Marcus is just about to hand over the last ingredient, to pass over the last instruction, finally, when a shadow is suddenly cast over their desk, ominous and oppressive. He doesn’t have to look up to know who it is.
“Mr MacCunoval,” Snape drawls, glaring across the desk. “As you seem to have perfected the art of completely taking control of this partnership, perhaps you would like to allow Mr Aquila to participate?” Esca looks desperate, and possibly a little frightened, at the prospect of handing over the glass rod and the measuring scales. Marcus doesn’t blame him. “No?”
“Well, sir, you see, Marcus isn’t-“ He suddenly falls silent as Snape raises an affronted hand. From the corner of his eye, Marcus can see that every one else in the classroom has stopped and turned to watch. From the small flicker of dark amusement in his face, Marcus can tell Snape has noticed too. Oh no. That does not bode well.
“I assure you, Mr MacCunoval, I have no interest whatsoever in what Mr Aquila is not, but rather, I have an obligatory interest in whether or not he actually possesses the vaguest of abilities to pass his examination with. And how, pray tell, do you expect him to do so without having taken part in the creation of even the most basic of potions?”
If the situation were any different, Marcus might have laughed. Most basic? If this was basic, then, well, things didn’t look good for the rest of his education.
“That’s not what-“ Snape raises his hand again, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. With a huff, and a look that screams I hate you and you are so going to regret this, Esca hands the glass rod to Marcus, moving to take over the role of ingredient supplier. He’s about to pick up the pot of Armadillo Bile when Snape shakes his head. Confused, Esca pulls his hand back.
“No, no, let Mr Aquila do it all. Let’s see whether he has been paying the slightest bit of attention.” Marcus can feel his heart leap into his mouth, his stomach drop. Surely not? He’s got to be joking, right? He looks to Esca, desperate for some sort of help, but only receives a weak smile of what he assumes should be encouragement, but looks more like fear for his life. “Come on, Mr Aquila, we don’t have all day.”
He swallows heavily, his hand shaking as he slowly reaches for the pot that Esca had been forced to abandon. The smell from it is vile, and it makes Marcus’ stomach churn, his breath catch in his throat. His palms are suddenly sweaty, and he grips the glass rod tight enough in his free hand to leave dents in his palm. You can do this. Come on, you can do this.
Aware of the whole glass watching him, and Snape glancing not-so-surreptitiously at his watch, Marcus tilts the pot, gently and slowly. A trickle runs into the cauldron, and it’s great, and both he and Esca let out a heavy sigh of relief. Except, Snape chooses that moment to clear his throat loudly, and Marcus jumps, and promptly drops the whole thing into the cauldron, pot and all.
Marcus can almost hear the way that Snape rolls his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. “What a shame, Mr Aquila, that you have shown a complete lack of competence and have entirely ruined Mr MacCunoval’s hard work. It would appear that you yourself would have benefited greatly from a draught of the Wit-Sharpening potion you have destroyed, if that is the level of skill you are going to display.”
“I- I don’t- Oh my God!” Marcus doesn’t have time to try and explain himself, to save himself from the humiliation, to stop the raucous laughter from his classmates, because, after having apparently marinated long enough, the mess of a concoction is suddenly gushing across the desk and onto the floor, hissing and steaming and spitting, having apparently burnt its way through the thick pewter base of the cauldron.
And then, without warning, it turns into complete chaos. Before he can even begin to register what on Earth he should do, Esca is leaping up from his stool, cursing and shouting, desperately trying to get out of the range of the spreading puddle, almost tripping over the poor, confused student behind him as he wrenches off his shoes. Marcus is momentarily flummoxed - what the hell? What a weird thing to do! And then, it hits him. Oh shit.
Half an hour later, sheepishly lingering in the corridor outside of the Hospital Wing, Marcus is worrying. Out of guilt and shame and a ridiculously large amount of embarrassment, Marcus had supported a constantly cursing, limping Esca to the Hospital Wing to treat the scalded skin of the base of his feet. The potion had, whilst spreading across the floor, eaten entirely through the base of Esca’s shoes, disintegrated his rather interesting socks (green with sheep on), and burnt the soles of his feet. Snape had, at this point, intervened and, with a rather lazy, put-upon flick of his wand, neutralized the angry, hissing river of all-consuming potion. He’d told an exceptionally mortified, bordering on traumatized, Marcus to escort Esca to Madame Pomfrey before he could do anymore damage, and, after practically carrying him the entire way, Marcus was waiting to hear the news.
It took a while longer, another half an hour or so in fact, until Esca resurfaced. He was barefoot, carrying the mangled remains of his shoes in one hand. When he spotted Marcus, he looked a little shocked. “You’re still here?”
“Of course I’m still here. I’m so sorry, Esca-“ He cut off quickly when Esca shook his head, a small, fond, smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not mad?”
“I was a little mad,” He admitted. Marcus visibly flinched, flushing a deep shade of red, so he quickly added, “But not so much now. Mainly because you look so bloody miserable, and it would be mean to hold it against you.”
“Really?” Marcus brightened instantly, hope and relief fluttering in his chest.
“Yeah. Well, it wasn’t exactly your fault - Snape was being a dick. And besides,” He said, beginning to wander toward the Ravenclaw Tower in search of shoes, or a spell to repair what was left of the ones he had. “I’ll get you back at some point.” He winked at Marcus over his shoulder, grinning when Marcus looked deeply concerned. “Chin up, Aquila, it’s not the end of the world. You won’t even notice.”
“That’s why I’m worried!” Esca laughed loudly, happy and amused. Just before he disappeared around the corner, he shot Marcus a wide, forgiving grin, and then, was gone. And, just like that, with that small gesture of kindness, of friendship, fresh in his mind, Marcus grinned too.
*****
Esca,
So, you told me to write to you, so here’s a letter.
How are you? What’s it like being back with muggles and not doing any magic?
Um. I’m rubbish at writing letters and stuff (You’ll be amused to know my Uncle has actually completely written off all my social skills), so yeah.
Write back?
Marcus.
P.S. My Uncle lent me the owl for the summer, so you can send replies (if you want) through him. Be careful - he bites.
~
Marcus,
That owl is a nutter! It tried to eat me! I had to fend it off with Rickon’s gummy bears (He thinks Eoin ate them. Haha!), so if he comes back in like, a sugar rush or something, it’s not my fault.
Being home is good, yeah. Although, Eoin won’t believe me that I’m not allowed to do magic outside of school, and he keeps pestering me - he thinks I just can’t do it. I offered to hit him with a jelly-legs curse to see how he liked that, but he just laughed, the bugger. You wait, Marcus, soon as I’m 17, he’s not gonna know what hit him.
How much homework did you get? I swear they’re trying to kill me - I made a tower out of all the books and stuff I’ve been given, and the damn thing is taller than Rickon. There’s something completely wrong there.
How about you? How’s Silchester, or wherever it is you live?
Esca.
~
Esca,
Ha! Clearly he’s a good judge of character. Either that, or he knew you were a pushover and would give him what he wanted. What did you do to him, by the way? He came back even grouchier than normal - seriously, I’m currently nursing a huge gash in my hand from where he attacked me. Thanks for that.
I feel I should probably take the moral high ground and tell you not to do anything stupid, or that you’re brother isn’t worth it, or whatever. But. Might I suggest the “Anteoculatia” jinx? It gives a person a very fetching pair of antlers.
Not much is going on here, to be honest. To the point where I’ve been so bored, I’ve already done all of my homework. I know. It’s THAT bad. Although, I went with my Uncle to this archaeological dig that the University he works for runs every year, and we found loads of stuff. Like, really cool stuff - I only found pottery and boring stuff to start with, but then, right at the end, I found an arrowhead. An actual arrowhead! How cool is that? It’s Roman, or something, or so my Uncle says.
Marcus
P.S. Just thought. Didn’t you say Rickon was really short?
~
Marcus,
Oops. Sorry about your hand.
And of course you would’ve done all your homework, you bloody goody two-shoes. I plan on being utterly traditional and leaving it all to the last week.
That’s so cool! I wish we had cool stuff like that here. What other stuff did you find?
My grandparents and aunts are coming over next week. I may actually kill myself. If I don’t get arrested for killing one of them first. Apparently, they’re all convinced I go to some military boarding school. They approve of this because, according to them, I need “straightening out” and am “in desperate need of some discipline”. I don’t know what they mean.
Esca
P.S. Did some research into that jinx you suggested. It looks AWESOME.
P.P.S. Shut up. The tower is big.
~
Esca,
HA! Is all I can say to that. Besides, it’s probably what you deserve for all those things you did to them when you were a kid. I vaguely remember you telling me about that time you put a newt in your aunt’s glass of water because you knew she hated them, and that time you deliberately trailed mud through your grandmother’s house because, well, just because. I’m sure there are more. MANY more.
Please don’t kill anyone. I won’t visit you in prison.
Marcus
~
Marcus,
You are a terrible friend. You’re supposed to feel sorry for me. And, actually, it wasn’t even me who got mud on her new carpet (although the thought did cross my mind), it was EOIN. And, despite the fact that I wasn’t even there she blamed me for it. She just thinks I look suspicious. It’s not my fault.
And, please, give me some credit. They would never know it was me. I’m far too good for that.
Esca
~
Esca,
You have no idea how disturbed I am by that statement. NO IDEA. Seriously.
My Uncle’s taking me into London to go to Diagon Alley to get all the stuff for next year. Might see you there? If you haven’t been arrested and charged with murder, that is.
If not, I’ll see you at school.
Marcus
P.S. The owl seems to have gained a lot of weight. Seriously. He’s really fat. And, he seems to have developed a taste for gummy bears. Is that your doing?
Prompt: In which Marcus Aquila is an outcast and a Gryffindor and Esca MacCunoval is a muggleborn and a Ravenclaw. During their years at Hogwarts, they forge new friendships, make unbelievable amounts of mistakes, are reckless and generally childish, do inappropriate things in inappropriate places and will never, ever, regret any of it.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Esca/Marcus
Art: bachaboska
Beta'd By: The never-endingly glorious and wonderful Anigram. Thank you so much for cheering me on and always making me write and generally being awesome and incredible. Without you, there would be no fic! <3
A/N: Also, HUUUUGE thanks go to poziomeczka for putting up with my constant messages and emails and for help with THAT scene. Without you and your astonishingly amazing work and dedication (not to mention the spectacular brainstorming at the very beginning), this fic would not be. <3
Spoilers/Warnings: Please bear in mind that because this fic is based in the UK and was written by someone based in the UK, the consenting age for that country was used (16 years). All characters participating in sexual acts are of consenting age. (: Strong language!
The Fourth Year
“How good are you at potions?” Marcus grimaced, attempting to shrug in a way that suggested modest success. Esca saw through it instantly, sighing heavily and rolling his eyes. “Do exactly as I tell you, alright? And try not to touch anything.” Marcus nodded. Right. Yes. He could do that. Folding his hands resolutely in his lap, he leant back in his chair, watching as Esca set up the cauldron. He was completely focused, sleeves rolled up, pencil tucked behind his ear, and biting his lip in that way he did whenever he was concentrating, which happened a lot and which made Marcus’ heart flutter in his chest, his face flush-
“When you’ve quite finished daydreaming, Marcus, read us the instructions, would you?” Esca’s voice cut through his thoughts, a smirk spreading across his face. Marcus cleared his throat awkwardly, moving to grab his textbook with shaking hands. “What do I do after the cauldron is set up?”
“Erm. Mix in ginger root until lime green.”
“Right.” Esca nodded, serious once more. “Pass me the ginger root.”
“I thought I wasn’t meant to touch anything?” Esca shot him a dirty look, scowling at Marcus’ wide grin.
“Just give it here.” Obediently, Marcus passed him the pot. “Thank you.” They progressed like that, with Marcus supplying instructions and ingredients, Esca mixing the potion and doing the work that required steady hands and concentration that Marcus could only dream of possessing, until the potion was almost finished. The time passed quickly, efficiently, and almost completely in silence. Marcus had learnt quite some time ago that Esca worked best when it was quiet, that his mind worked with silence, so he didn’t try to interrupt, or ask questions. Marcus is just about to hand over the last ingredient, to pass over the last instruction, finally, when a shadow is suddenly cast over their desk, ominous and oppressive. He doesn’t have to look up to know who it is.
“Mr MacCunoval,” Snape drawls, glaring across the desk. “As you seem to have perfected the art of completely taking control of this partnership, perhaps you would like to allow Mr Aquila to participate?” Esca looks desperate, and possibly a little frightened, at the prospect of handing over the glass rod and the measuring scales. Marcus doesn’t blame him. “No?”
“Well, sir, you see, Marcus isn’t-“ He suddenly falls silent as Snape raises an affronted hand. From the corner of his eye, Marcus can see that every one else in the classroom has stopped and turned to watch. From the small flicker of dark amusement in his face, Marcus can tell Snape has noticed too. Oh no. That does not bode well.
“I assure you, Mr MacCunoval, I have no interest whatsoever in what Mr Aquila is not, but rather, I have an obligatory interest in whether or not he actually possesses the vaguest of abilities to pass his examination with. And how, pray tell, do you expect him to do so without having taken part in the creation of even the most basic of potions?”
If the situation were any different, Marcus might have laughed. Most basic? If this was basic, then, well, things didn’t look good for the rest of his education.
“That’s not what-“ Snape raises his hand again, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. With a huff, and a look that screams I hate you and you are so going to regret this, Esca hands the glass rod to Marcus, moving to take over the role of ingredient supplier. He’s about to pick up the pot of Armadillo Bile when Snape shakes his head. Confused, Esca pulls his hand back.
“No, no, let Mr Aquila do it all. Let’s see whether he has been paying the slightest bit of attention.” Marcus can feel his heart leap into his mouth, his stomach drop. Surely not? He’s got to be joking, right? He looks to Esca, desperate for some sort of help, but only receives a weak smile of what he assumes should be encouragement, but looks more like fear for his life. “Come on, Mr Aquila, we don’t have all day.”
He swallows heavily, his hand shaking as he slowly reaches for the pot that Esca had been forced to abandon. The smell from it is vile, and it makes Marcus’ stomach churn, his breath catch in his throat. His palms are suddenly sweaty, and he grips the glass rod tight enough in his free hand to leave dents in his palm. You can do this. Come on, you can do this.
Aware of the whole glass watching him, and Snape glancing not-so-surreptitiously at his watch, Marcus tilts the pot, gently and slowly. A trickle runs into the cauldron, and it’s great, and both he and Esca let out a heavy sigh of relief. Except, Snape chooses that moment to clear his throat loudly, and Marcus jumps, and promptly drops the whole thing into the cauldron, pot and all.
Marcus can almost hear the way that Snape rolls his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. “What a shame, Mr Aquila, that you have shown a complete lack of competence and have entirely ruined Mr MacCunoval’s hard work. It would appear that you yourself would have benefited greatly from a draught of the Wit-Sharpening potion you have destroyed, if that is the level of skill you are going to display.”
“I- I don’t- Oh my God!” Marcus doesn’t have time to try and explain himself, to save himself from the humiliation, to stop the raucous laughter from his classmates, because, after having apparently marinated long enough, the mess of a concoction is suddenly gushing across the desk and onto the floor, hissing and steaming and spitting, having apparently burnt its way through the thick pewter base of the cauldron.
And then, without warning, it turns into complete chaos. Before he can even begin to register what on Earth he should do, Esca is leaping up from his stool, cursing and shouting, desperately trying to get out of the range of the spreading puddle, almost tripping over the poor, confused student behind him as he wrenches off his shoes. Marcus is momentarily flummoxed - what the hell? What a weird thing to do! And then, it hits him. Oh shit.
Half an hour later, sheepishly lingering in the corridor outside of the Hospital Wing, Marcus is worrying. Out of guilt and shame and a ridiculously large amount of embarrassment, Marcus had supported a constantly cursing, limping Esca to the Hospital Wing to treat the scalded skin of the base of his feet. The potion had, whilst spreading across the floor, eaten entirely through the base of Esca’s shoes, disintegrated his rather interesting socks (green with sheep on), and burnt the soles of his feet. Snape had, at this point, intervened and, with a rather lazy, put-upon flick of his wand, neutralized the angry, hissing river of all-consuming potion. He’d told an exceptionally mortified, bordering on traumatized, Marcus to escort Esca to Madame Pomfrey before he could do anymore damage, and, after practically carrying him the entire way, Marcus was waiting to hear the news.
It took a while longer, another half an hour or so in fact, until Esca resurfaced. He was barefoot, carrying the mangled remains of his shoes in one hand. When he spotted Marcus, he looked a little shocked. “You’re still here?”
“Of course I’m still here. I’m so sorry, Esca-“ He cut off quickly when Esca shook his head, a small, fond, smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not mad?”
“I was a little mad,” He admitted. Marcus visibly flinched, flushing a deep shade of red, so he quickly added, “But not so much now. Mainly because you look so bloody miserable, and it would be mean to hold it against you.”
“Really?” Marcus brightened instantly, hope and relief fluttering in his chest.
“Yeah. Well, it wasn’t exactly your fault - Snape was being a dick. And besides,” He said, beginning to wander toward the Ravenclaw Tower in search of shoes, or a spell to repair what was left of the ones he had. “I’ll get you back at some point.” He winked at Marcus over his shoulder, grinning when Marcus looked deeply concerned. “Chin up, Aquila, it’s not the end of the world. You won’t even notice.”
“That’s why I’m worried!” Esca laughed loudly, happy and amused. Just before he disappeared around the corner, he shot Marcus a wide, forgiving grin, and then, was gone. And, just like that, with that small gesture of kindness, of friendship, fresh in his mind, Marcus grinned too.
*****
Esca,
So, you told me to write to you, so here’s a letter.
How are you? What’s it like being back with muggles and not doing any magic?
Um. I’m rubbish at writing letters and stuff (You’ll be amused to know my Uncle has actually completely written off all my social skills), so yeah.
Write back?
Marcus.
P.S. My Uncle lent me the owl for the summer, so you can send replies (if you want) through him. Be careful - he bites.
~
Marcus,
That owl is a nutter! It tried to eat me! I had to fend it off with Rickon’s gummy bears (He thinks Eoin ate them. Haha!), so if he comes back in like, a sugar rush or something, it’s not my fault.
Being home is good, yeah. Although, Eoin won’t believe me that I’m not allowed to do magic outside of school, and he keeps pestering me - he thinks I just can’t do it. I offered to hit him with a jelly-legs curse to see how he liked that, but he just laughed, the bugger. You wait, Marcus, soon as I’m 17, he’s not gonna know what hit him.
How much homework did you get? I swear they’re trying to kill me - I made a tower out of all the books and stuff I’ve been given, and the damn thing is taller than Rickon. There’s something completely wrong there.
How about you? How’s Silchester, or wherever it is you live?
Esca.
~
Esca,
Ha! Clearly he’s a good judge of character. Either that, or he knew you were a pushover and would give him what he wanted. What did you do to him, by the way? He came back even grouchier than normal - seriously, I’m currently nursing a huge gash in my hand from where he attacked me. Thanks for that.
I feel I should probably take the moral high ground and tell you not to do anything stupid, or that you’re brother isn’t worth it, or whatever. But. Might I suggest the “Anteoculatia” jinx? It gives a person a very fetching pair of antlers.
Not much is going on here, to be honest. To the point where I’ve been so bored, I’ve already done all of my homework. I know. It’s THAT bad. Although, I went with my Uncle to this archaeological dig that the University he works for runs every year, and we found loads of stuff. Like, really cool stuff - I only found pottery and boring stuff to start with, but then, right at the end, I found an arrowhead. An actual arrowhead! How cool is that? It’s Roman, or something, or so my Uncle says.
Marcus
P.S. Just thought. Didn’t you say Rickon was really short?
~
Marcus,
Oops. Sorry about your hand.
And of course you would’ve done all your homework, you bloody goody two-shoes. I plan on being utterly traditional and leaving it all to the last week.
That’s so cool! I wish we had cool stuff like that here. What other stuff did you find?
My grandparents and aunts are coming over next week. I may actually kill myself. If I don’t get arrested for killing one of them first. Apparently, they’re all convinced I go to some military boarding school. They approve of this because, according to them, I need “straightening out” and am “in desperate need of some discipline”. I don’t know what they mean.
Esca
P.S. Did some research into that jinx you suggested. It looks AWESOME.
P.P.S. Shut up. The tower is big.
~
Esca,
HA! Is all I can say to that. Besides, it’s probably what you deserve for all those things you did to them when you were a kid. I vaguely remember you telling me about that time you put a newt in your aunt’s glass of water because you knew she hated them, and that time you deliberately trailed mud through your grandmother’s house because, well, just because. I’m sure there are more. MANY more.
Please don’t kill anyone. I won’t visit you in prison.
Marcus
~
Marcus,
You are a terrible friend. You’re supposed to feel sorry for me. And, actually, it wasn’t even me who got mud on her new carpet (although the thought did cross my mind), it was EOIN. And, despite the fact that I wasn’t even there she blamed me for it. She just thinks I look suspicious. It’s not my fault.
And, please, give me some credit. They would never know it was me. I’m far too good for that.
Esca
~
Esca,
You have no idea how disturbed I am by that statement. NO IDEA. Seriously.
My Uncle’s taking me into London to go to Diagon Alley to get all the stuff for next year. Might see you there? If you haven’t been arrested and charged with murder, that is.
If not, I’ll see you at school.
Marcus
P.S. The owl seems to have gained a lot of weight. Seriously. He’s really fat. And, he seems to have developed a taste for gummy bears. Is that your doing?