Solidarity (And Some Kind of Integrity) 7/8
Title: Solidarity (And Some Kind of Integrity) 7/8
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 Seventh Year
In their seventh year, each in turn, they’re pulled in front of their Head of House to discuss their future. It’s s tense time, as people desperately try to find out what they actually want to do with the rest of their life. Marcus is one of those people, well, sort of. He’s set his heart on being a Healer, to help people, make a difference and all that, but, besides the fact that he’s completely hopeless at Potions, he’s embarrassed. He knows he shouldn’t be, it’s a very honourable profession, but, putting it bluntly, people don’t think it’s particularly manly. Only girls become Healers, apparently, and, as a young man, a very manly young man, everyone’s expecting him to declare his intentions of being an auror, or a professional Quidditch player, or something equally as butch.
Esca, on the other hand, is one of the lucky ones. He knows exactly what he wants to do (Auror training, of course), and even if he didn’t, his grades are high enough for him to be able to do anything. It’s incredibly unfair.
When it’s Marcus’ turn to have his meeting with McGonagall, he’s unbelievably nervous. She’s smiling, which is beyond not normal, and when she offers him a cup of tea and insists he have a biscuit, Marcus decides he’s totally out of his depth.
“So, Aquila,” She says, opening what he assumes is his file. As she skim reads the front sheet, the grade sheet, the biscuit suddenly becomes heavy in his mouth, difficult to swallow. He takes a desperate gulp of tea and struggles not to choke on it. She watches him for a moment, eyebrows slightly raised, and, when she deems he’s unlikely to drop dead in her office through asphyxiation, she continues. “Have you had any thoughts about what you want to do?”
“Well, I thought - I don’t know.” She watches him, silently and expectantly, as if she can tell he’s holding something back - Marcus has always sworn she can read minds, and this, he decides, proves it. “I thought that- I - IwantobeaHealer.” He says, all in one breath, as if saying it quickly will make it easier. He’s expecting a smirk, a laugh maybe, and for her to tell him he’d be better of sticking to what he’s good at and playing Quidditch. Except, she doesn’t. She merely nods, slowly and thoughtfully, and flicks through his folder.
“Well, you Herbology grades are, frankly, perfect.” Here, she smiles at him, “Professor Sprout tells me you’re very keen, and a wonderful student. I’d even go as far as to say you were her favourite.” Marcus blushes, and takes an uncomfortable sip of his tea. “And your Charms grades are more than adequate. As for your Potions,” Marcus tenses, waiting for the bad news. “The situation really isn’t that bad.” Really? At his incredulous expression, she smiles, “According to this, you’re currently two grades away from what they expect from potential Healers, but with a little tutoring, and a lot of determination, I don’t see why you shouldn’t get those grades. You’re a hard-working student, Marcus, you’re doing well.”
There’s a pause, as she closes his file and puts it away, and Marcus downs the rest of his tea. He’s shaking, he can tell, quite visibly, but not in nervousness now, instead, in relief. He can’t help but grin when McGonagall turns her attention back to him. “As for the tutoring, I’m sure if you ask him nicely, Mr MacCunoval will be more than willing to assist you.” She smiles, and there’s something he can’t quite make out in her expression, something like amusement, mirth, and something undeniably happy.
He realises, as he leaves her office, what it was - she knows exactly what’s going on between them. Well, shit.
*****
When their exams are finally, finally, over, and when the end of their very last term is suddenly upon them, there’s a sudden sadness that falls over all of the seventh years. The thought of leaving, never coming back and moving on with their lives is unbelievably scary. It’s terrifying, not knowing what’s going to happen, what they’re going to do, where they’re going to be this time next year. It’s particularly hard when the time comes to pack suitcases for the last time, and things are discovered, objects and trinkets that are inexplicably tied to memories from years ago, long since forgotten about. It’s not uncommon for someone (not just the girls, Marcus notes) to suddenly burst into loud, nostalgic tears in the middle of the Common Room.
He goes to the library, one afternoon, for the last time, and automatically walks toward the back, to find the desk settled between the bookcases, hidden from view. He’s not quite sure why he does it, because all he feels is sadness at the thought of leaving all this behind, the only place he’s ever felt truly welcome, his home. He takes his time wandering amongst the shelves on his way, running his fingers along the familiar spines, breathing in the familiar, comforting smell, letting the hush fall around him, envelope him until he reaches his destination. When he finally gets there, he smiles, and suddenly wants to cry.
Esca is already there. He looks up as Marcus approaches, and smiles, wide and sad. He stands to meet him, and lets Marcus wrap his arms tightly around him. They stay like that for some time, content in each other’s embrace, nostalgic and slightly miserable and so, so afraid of what the future may bring for them.
They go to the Quidditch Pitch together, to watch the last practice of the year. It’s an odd feeling, sitting in the stands and watching, rather than taking part, but it’s nice, spending the last few hours of their schooldays together in a place that means so much to them. They stay, quiet and thoughtful, even when the team have left. Even when they’ve left the changing rooms and made their way back to the Castle, they’re still there, in complete silence, until, eventually, Esca says, simply but full of so much emotion, so many unspoken words,
“I’m going to miss this place.”
And that, Marcus decides, sums up everything, everything he wanted to say but couldn’t, everything he’d wanted to do but hadn’t, the sudden deluge of unprecedented emotions, the unexpected tears, the years they’ve spent here, and the wonderful, amazing memories, absolutely perfectly
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 Seventh Year
In their seventh year, each in turn, they’re pulled in front of their Head of House to discuss their future. It’s s tense time, as people desperately try to find out what they actually want to do with the rest of their life. Marcus is one of those people, well, sort of. He’s set his heart on being a Healer, to help people, make a difference and all that, but, besides the fact that he’s completely hopeless at Potions, he’s embarrassed. He knows he shouldn’t be, it’s a very honourable profession, but, putting it bluntly, people don’t think it’s particularly manly. Only girls become Healers, apparently, and, as a young man, a very manly young man, everyone’s expecting him to declare his intentions of being an auror, or a professional Quidditch player, or something equally as butch.
Esca, on the other hand, is one of the lucky ones. He knows exactly what he wants to do (Auror training, of course), and even if he didn’t, his grades are high enough for him to be able to do anything. It’s incredibly unfair.
When it’s Marcus’ turn to have his meeting with McGonagall, he’s unbelievably nervous. She’s smiling, which is beyond not normal, and when she offers him a cup of tea and insists he have a biscuit, Marcus decides he’s totally out of his depth.
“So, Aquila,” She says, opening what he assumes is his file. As she skim reads the front sheet, the grade sheet, the biscuit suddenly becomes heavy in his mouth, difficult to swallow. He takes a desperate gulp of tea and struggles not to choke on it. She watches him for a moment, eyebrows slightly raised, and, when she deems he’s unlikely to drop dead in her office through asphyxiation, she continues. “Have you had any thoughts about what you want to do?”
“Well, I thought - I don’t know.” She watches him, silently and expectantly, as if she can tell he’s holding something back - Marcus has always sworn she can read minds, and this, he decides, proves it. “I thought that- I - IwantobeaHealer.” He says, all in one breath, as if saying it quickly will make it easier. He’s expecting a smirk, a laugh maybe, and for her to tell him he’d be better of sticking to what he’s good at and playing Quidditch. Except, she doesn’t. She merely nods, slowly and thoughtfully, and flicks through his folder.
“Well, you Herbology grades are, frankly, perfect.” Here, she smiles at him, “Professor Sprout tells me you’re very keen, and a wonderful student. I’d even go as far as to say you were her favourite.” Marcus blushes, and takes an uncomfortable sip of his tea. “And your Charms grades are more than adequate. As for your Potions,” Marcus tenses, waiting for the bad news. “The situation really isn’t that bad.” Really? At his incredulous expression, she smiles, “According to this, you’re currently two grades away from what they expect from potential Healers, but with a little tutoring, and a lot of determination, I don’t see why you shouldn’t get those grades. You’re a hard-working student, Marcus, you’re doing well.”
There’s a pause, as she closes his file and puts it away, and Marcus downs the rest of his tea. He’s shaking, he can tell, quite visibly, but not in nervousness now, instead, in relief. He can’t help but grin when McGonagall turns her attention back to him. “As for the tutoring, I’m sure if you ask him nicely, Mr MacCunoval will be more than willing to assist you.” She smiles, and there’s something he can’t quite make out in her expression, something like amusement, mirth, and something undeniably happy.
He realises, as he leaves her office, what it was - she knows exactly what’s going on between them. Well, shit.
*****
When their exams are finally, finally, over, and when the end of their very last term is suddenly upon them, there’s a sudden sadness that falls over all of the seventh years. The thought of leaving, never coming back and moving on with their lives is unbelievably scary. It’s terrifying, not knowing what’s going to happen, what they’re going to do, where they’re going to be this time next year. It’s particularly hard when the time comes to pack suitcases for the last time, and things are discovered, objects and trinkets that are inexplicably tied to memories from years ago, long since forgotten about. It’s not uncommon for someone (not just the girls, Marcus notes) to suddenly burst into loud, nostalgic tears in the middle of the Common Room.
He goes to the library, one afternoon, for the last time, and automatically walks toward the back, to find the desk settled between the bookcases, hidden from view. He’s not quite sure why he does it, because all he feels is sadness at the thought of leaving all this behind, the only place he’s ever felt truly welcome, his home. He takes his time wandering amongst the shelves on his way, running his fingers along the familiar spines, breathing in the familiar, comforting smell, letting the hush fall around him, envelope him until he reaches his destination. When he finally gets there, he smiles, and suddenly wants to cry.
Esca is already there. He looks up as Marcus approaches, and smiles, wide and sad. He stands to meet him, and lets Marcus wrap his arms tightly around him. They stay like that for some time, content in each other’s embrace, nostalgic and slightly miserable and so, so afraid of what the future may bring for them.
They go to the Quidditch Pitch together, to watch the last practice of the year. It’s an odd feeling, sitting in the stands and watching, rather than taking part, but it’s nice, spending the last few hours of their schooldays together in a place that means so much to them. They stay, quiet and thoughtful, even when the team have left. Even when they’ve left the changing rooms and made their way back to the Castle, they’re still there, in complete silence, until, eventually, Esca says, simply but full of so much emotion, so many unspoken words,
“I’m going to miss this place.”
And that, Marcus decides, sums up everything, everything he wanted to say but couldn’t, everything he’d wanted to do but hadn’t, the sudden deluge of unprecedented emotions, the unexpected tears, the years they’ve spent here, and the wonderful, amazing memories, absolutely perfectly