章節 18: chapter 18
"I refuse," Ed says stubbornly, arms crossed.
"There are no choices here," Cedric says cheerfully. "It's do or die."
"Then I'll die," Ed fumes.
Cedric hums mindlessly, ignoring the petulant frown on Ed's face.
"We're all friends here, Elric," Justin snorts. "No need to get embarrassed over a couple dance lessons."
"I'm not embarrassed!" Ed scowls. "I just don't see why I have to do this at all."
"It's your pride as a Hogwarts champion," Zach muses. "That, and the fact that Sprout would guilt you with her immensely disappointed looks for an eternity if you make our House look bad at the Yule ball."
"Fuck you and your logic," Ed says, not an ounce of heat in his words.
"Someone around here has to have a functioning brain cell," Zach replies.
Cedric is too busy talking to a number of seventh year Hufflepuffs to stop Ed from flipping Zach off.
There aren't any other opportunities for Ed to act like the heathen he actually is, because almost as soon as he lowers his middle finger, Sprout bounces into the room, a bright smile already on her face.
She claps her hands together, garnering the attention of the last few students who hadn't noticed her arrival.
"Welcome to all of you! Today we'll be working on learning the basic steps for a simple waltz. I can't imagine they'd be having you all do more than a few formal dances, so it should suffice." She puts her hands to hips. "Now, if all you ladies will step to the left and the young men will step to the right, we can get started!"
There's an awkward silence as everyone shuffles to the appropriate walk. Ed drags his feet, not looking forward to this at all.
Sprout demonstrates the simple box step for a waltz twice: once to show how a person would lead and once again to show how their partner would follow.
At the end of her explanation, she gazes out at her students with something of an amused grin. "Alright! I think it'd be appropriate for Mr. Elric to make a first attempt, seeing as he'll be required to perform in front of the whole school anyhow."
He can't quite disguise the disdain that bleeds through his neutral expression, but Sprout is kind enough to look over it.
"Come over here, dear, and don't worry at all, we can do this slowly."
Ed walks over and tries to decide if he's going to suck it up and put his best foot forward or if he's going to intentionally ruin Sprout's efforts to teach him.
The giant phonograph seated on the cart next to Sprout begins warbling music.
He takes three deep breaths before looking over his shoulder to address his Housemates.
"If any of you speak of this, ever, I will end you. Do you hear me?"
"How bad could it be?" Cedric laughs.
Sprout just smiles as Ed puts his hand on her waist.
"I'm sorry," he says awkwardly, just loud enough for her to hear.
"Oh, don't worry, Edward, I'm sure we'll have you ready to dance in no time."
"Not about that," he says. He makes a face. "I kind of lied. I already know how to dance."
The look of slight surprise on Sprout's face is nothing compared to the following uproar coming from the other Hufflepuff students when Ed expertly leads Sprout in a series of steps far more complicated than a simple box step.
"Are you bloody kidding me, Elric, can't you just be terrible at one thing!" Justin complains.
Ed just shoots him a shit-eating grin and hopes no one notices that his ears are turning red from the attention.
(They all do.)
* * * * *
The day following their first dance class together, the students of Hufflepuff House introduce a new rule: what happens in Hufflepuff dance class, stays in Hufflepuff dance class.
The other students are starting to lose their minds, discovering just how seriously their fellow students commit to upholding this rule.
"You can't be serious, just tell us if Elric can dance or not!"
Hannah Abbott bites her lip and shakes her head solemnly. "It's a Hufflepuff thing," she says, almost apologetically, although the twinkle in her eye suggests otherwise.
Ed's friends can't take the secrecy.
"What in Merlin's name happened in your dance classes that has your entire House acting like a secret society of gnomes!" Fred shouts, after several days of trying and failing to wrestle answers from Ed.
"Nothing," Ed grumbles. "They're just being dramatic. Because they're assholes and they're like that."
"Maybe they're all horrific dancers," Blaise suggests innocently.
"You're a horrific dancer," Ed snaps back.
Blaise purses his lips, raising his eyebrow as he does.
Right, pureblood Slytherin, of course he knows how to dance.
Ed sniffs, scrunches his nose and pulls at his eyelids as he makes a face at the Slytherin.
The rest of the book club begins making educated guesses as to what unspeakable events could have possibly occurred during the Hufflepuff dance classes.
Meanwhile, George grins, the left corner of his mouth turning up slightly farther than his right, and he leans in close to Ed, casually slinging an arm over his shoulders.
"Just a shot in the dark, but you're incredibly good at dancing, aren't you?" he whispers.
Ed frowns. "No. Why would you think that. Ever. I'm terrible at dancing. I literally have a metal leg. Don't talk to me."
George doesn't stop grinning. "You're a terrible liar and you're a terrific dancer. Wait 'til I tell everyone."
Ed closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll ruin your life. You know I could do it."
"But you wouldn't," George snorts, "because you're all talk."
"Don't test me, bitch," Ed replies, sticking out his tongue childishly.
"Try me, bitch," George answers, crossing his arms.
"Watch your fucking language," they say in unison, George raising an eyebrow as if to say, you can't win this one.
Ed narrows his eyes. "You're on thin fucking ice, Weasley."
George laughs. "Good."
* * * * *
Let it be known that there is nothing in existence quite as feral and frenzied as a teenager hunting for a date to a dance.
Ed scowls as he watches a number of Hogwarts students stalking down their prey. He'd already watched several awkward teenagers approach their romantic interests and stutter out an invitation to the quickly approaching Yule Ball.
He really doesn't care about the triumphs and defeats, the epic highs and lows of teenage romance, but a disturbing number of people are starting to look at him like starved dogs eye rotting meat: not great at first glance, but when you're desperate enough, it'll do.
Desperate or not, Ed's not looking for a date to the ball — that's not what he signed up for.
Actually, he didn't sign up for a majority of the crap he's dealing with at the moment.
"Go kill a megalomanic, they said," Ed mutters, "I need a favor, they said. Magical universe, they said."
"What are you talking about?" Neville asks, tilting his head, nose scrunched with curiosity.
"I'm just regretting every decision in my entire life. Ever."
Ginny shoves him slightly. "You're so dramatic. You could give Fred a run for his money."
"I am not," he replies. "This is precisely the amount of drama that is necessary for this situation."
They had decided to change up their usual routine of loitering in the kitchen in favor of sitting in the Great Hall (at the Ravenclaw table, much to the annoyance of their fellow students).
"Who are you all planning on asking?" Ed asks eventually.
He hasn't really thought out whether he should just show up to the Yule ball without a dance partner in tow, considering he has no interest playing nice with the Tournament authorities or dancing for whatever reason deemed necessary.
It reminds him of the reasons he had been forced to learn to dance at all — it'd been required of him when he had to show up to formal events for the military and it makes him feel like a monkey dressed up and tasked with performing tricks for a largely amused crowd, who see him as little more than a plaything.
He despises that feeling.
"Formally," Blaise replies, "Neville and I have asked Luna and Ginny, as they can't attend otherwise."
"Right," Ed says, nodding. "Guess that just leaves us." He looks to the twins.
Fred turns a shade of red that would put a ripe tomato to shame. He opens and closes his mouth several times, like a fish out of water.
Ed raises an eyebrow.
George takes one look at his brother and rolls his eyes.
"You need a date, right? The champions' dance or whatever?" George waits for Ed to nod reluctantly before nudging Fred slightly. "Why not take Fred? I can't dance and it's not like we're not going to hang out together like we're actually independent people."
Blaise exhales heavily out of his nose and Neville and Luna hide amused looks from Ed, who makes a face at the accusation of codependency.
"Yeah, Ed," Fred says, a little too loud. "How 'bout it? You, me?" He makes a dancing motion, arms raised and his lips turned up in a smug smile. The overall effect is only slightly ruined by how red his face still is.
Ed snorts. "Yeah, let's do it."
The book club members buzz with excitement.
Well, the book club members aside from Ed, who's only really beginning to tolerate the idea.
Although, the prospect of attending an event like this surrounded by people whose company he genuinely enjoys should change things.
* * * * *
With the matter of their dates settled, without much fanfare either, the book club members realize they have a different issue altogether.
"What're you going to wear, Ed?"
He glances down at his clean, black ensemble, complete with gloves and thick-soled boots, and gestures. "This."
"I think not," Blaise scoffs.
"This calls for a Hogsmeade trip," Ginny announces.
Like most students who came ill-prepared for the school year, Ed and his friends make a rushed trip to Hogsmeade with the intention of finding something, anything, appropriate for him to wear at a ball.
"I don't see why I can't show up the way I normally would," Ed grumbles. He's been dragged along partially at Fred's insistence and Blaise's look of pure disdain, but mostly because Luna had made a sad, small face when he had told them he was going to show up to the Yule ball in his familiar sweater and leather pants combination.
"It's indecent," Blaise replies, somewhat sharply.
"It'd only really be indecent if I showed up naked," Ed says petulantly.
Fred and George share a secretive look, before discreetly staring at Ed's left leg and right arm respectively. He shoots them a scowl and flips them off.
"We'd like to see you dressed up," Ginny answers, instead of Blaise this time. "Merlin knows no one can get you into a uniform. Hey, actually, I've been meaning to ask, don't you sweat?"
"What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I sweat."
"It's a great question," she snorts. "You're always wearing those dumb leather pants, you must constantly be sweating buckets."
"Fuck you, these pants are functional!"
Leather is more durable than most fabrics, he doesn't say, which is ideal if you're getting into fights for a living.
"Oh, so you don't wear them just for the aesthetic?"
Ed jerks back. "What the fuck? Do I look like the kind of person who wears shit for aesthetic appeal?"
"Absolutely," Luna says cheerfully.
Ed presses his fingertips against his eyes, hard, and takes a deep breath.
"Will you all stop bickering about Ed's pants and start looking for some robes?" George interrupts. "We can make fun of him later, we're kind of on a time limit."
* * * * *
Ed, with the opinions of his friends in mind, ends up finding something he'd actually like to wear.
He decides if his presence is going to be required at the ball by these so-called higher authorities, he'll give them exactly the kind of show they deserve and show up brazen and full of himself.
"I'd like you guys to dress me like I'm a prince or something," he explains.
He'd originally wanted to find something offensively red, which every single person, including Neville and Luna, disagreed with.
So, he settles for a very clearly Slytherin green suit that Blaise almost smiles at. It's comfortable enough for a fight should there be one (the first thing Ed thinks about whenever he gets dressed), but glamorous enough to seem frivolous for a person like Ed, whose need for functionality is constantly at odds with his outrageous sense of style and his insatiable desire to be a little shit.
Luna and Blaise help him pick out a number of accessories, from clip-on pearl earrings and strings of pearls to wear around his neck to gloves made of an opaque lace.
"It's perfect," Ed decides.
He looks great, every piece of his outfit radiating the exact amount of haughtiness to grate on everyone's nerves.
"I kind of want to hit you," both Ginny and George say when they see him pick at the dust on his sleeve.
"You look so annoying," Fred snorts. "I love it!"
"Thanks," Ed grins, letting himself sink back into his Fullmetal Alchemist persona.
* * * * *
Although most of their December is preoccupied with actual schoolwork and talks of the Yule ball and attempts at finding a date, Ed, Viktor, Fleur, and Harry also have a number of scheduled meetings where they're told how things will be organized, who will walk in after who, and other minor details that Ed forgets as soon as he's been told them.
It's during one of these meetings that Ed learns just how disastrously date-finding is going for Harry.
"I did ask someone," Harry explains, somewhat sheepish. "But she'd already been asked."
"Who?" Fleur asks, slightly more out of politeness than genuine curiosity.
"Cho Chang? She's a year above me, in Ravenclaw?"
Fleur tilts her head. "Is she not dating that other boy? Blond, sporty, beautiful smile."
"Cedric?" Ed says suddenly, head snapping to stare at Fleur.
She nods, while Harry raises his hands to his face, mortified.
"Merlin, she has a boyfriend? No wonder she looked so awkward. I'm going to relive this in my nightmares."
Fleur pats him lightly on the back. "Do not be embarrassed, Harry." The way she says his name almost sounds like "'Arry". "Besides, as long as you were respectful, she probably did not think much of it." She pauses. "Like your friend. The red-haired one."
If anything, that's the wrong thing to say, because Harry just lets out a tiny groan. "Don't remind me, I don't know what he was thinking."
Fleur bristles slightly. "Excuse me?" she says in French.
"Not-, oh, Merlin, not like that! Just, he's, I always thought that he fancies Hermione, I reckon, you know, but he never mentions it, so I thought I'd let him work it out, but after you said no, he immediately tried asking her when he was acting all stupid and she got really upset."
"Of course she is upset!" Fleur says indignantly. "What person wants to be asked as a last resort!"
Harry wilts. "That's exactly what she said. Not to mention she already has a date, apparently."
Ed furrows his brow. "How are you guys such good friends and you didn't even know that?"
Harry scowls. "Oh, like you know everyone your friends are going with?"
"Well, yeah? We're all going with one another. Minus George, who spent over an hour insisting he doesn't want a date at all and explaining why."
"You are friends with Hermione? Granger?" Viktor says abruptly. With his accent, her name sounds choppy.
"I—, well, yes?"
"I asked her to be my date to the ball," Viktor says, almost like one would apologize for offending someone who is particularly sensitive.
Harry's mouth is open and slack, his eyes wide with surprise. "I, I didn't even know you knew her."
Viktor shrugs. "We met in the library."
"Oh. Okay. Yeah, okay." Harry stops talking abruptly.
For the rest of that meeting, Harry sneaks glances at Viktor, who remains as even-keeled as ever.
Ed just makes a mental note to talk to Hermione sometime and hopefully offer some reprieve from her frustration.
* * * * *
"You know, you never told me you had a girlfriend," Ed says to Cedric the next time they're in the common room together.
Cedric opens his books and flips through them nonchalantly. "You never asked. Why would I randomly bring it up on my own?"
"Alright," Ed grumbles, "you've got a point."
"Why?" Cedric asks, looking up at last. "Are you interested in dating?"
"No," Ed says, without thinking too hard about it. "I've got enough shit to deal with."
The older boy hums noncommittally and sensing the end of the conversation, returns to his studying.
Ed, on the other hand, comes to the sudden realization that he's barely had the mental space for friends, let alone romantic relationships, because he's been too preoccupied with returning Al to his rightful body to be worried about proper socialization with people his age.
He doesn't regret it, though, and he fully knows that he'd make that choice every single time when it comes to Al.
That doesn't mean he can't appreciate the time he has now, in this magical universe, even if it comes with an expiration date.
The only thing he's starting to dread is explaining his limited time to the people he's met here, who care about him, who'll surely notice if they wake one morning and he no longer exists.
* * * * *
Ed is regularly receiving and sending letters from Sirius, semi-regularly catching up with Remus under the guise of unexplained detentions, and frequently in the presence of at least one member of the book club every moment of the day.
How he manages to find the time to maintain his training schedule and still scramble for hints on Riddle's Horcruxes is beyond him.
Not that he's made a lot of discoveries on that front.
The best he can guess, based solely on the existence of a Horcrux made out of Salazar Slytherin's personal artifact, is that Riddle probably used other personal artifacts from the three remaining Hogwarts founders. (If Ed's learned anything about the man second-hand, it's that Riddle is obsessed with fame and fortune, in any way that he can get it.)
Although, making an educated guess like that doesn't do much in the long run, because Ed can't figure out where he'd be able to find any such artifacts, outside of a museum, and even those don't have anything that belonged to any of the three founders.
"This is getting nowhere," he mutters, looking through yet another book of historical records in the library.
Irma is confused by his requests for not only biographies of Hogwarts founders, atlases, and in-depth museum records dating centuries back, but also by the fervor with which he tackles said material.
(He's only really bothering her with his requests because she'll occasionally slip titles from the restricted section into his stack of books, although the severe expression on her face when she catches his eye informs him that she'll just shy of murder him if he abuses this information.)
Horcruxes aside, there's a growing concern on Ed's part that Riddle or his believers are firmly entwined in the meddling that involved one Harry James Potter in the mess that is the ongoing Triwizard Tournament.
He knows what happened between Riddle and Harry in the boy's first year, a transplanted memory of Riddle's soul escaping the old Defense professor's body with an unearthly scream.
And that's the tricky thing with souls — as Ed knows all too well — they are far more persistent than a physical body would make them appear.
(He doesn't ever enjoy thinking too closely about Riddle or the little pieces of his soul scattered around, because it reminds him of Al in the worst way imaginable.)
There are several things at play here that Ed is determined to find out.
Either that, or it'll find him first.
* * * * *
Christmas this year fills Hogwarts with noise and warmth and laughter, a stark contrast to the year before where Ed was one of very few to walk through its halls late December. With the addition of the two visiting schools, there are more than enough people around to keep things entertaining.
The book club members seek out an empty classroom after dinner on Christmas Eve to have a small celebration of their own.
They've also requested a number of pastries from the house elves, who were more than happy to oblige. Ed makes sure to leave a number of Galleons with Dobby to purchase things for himself and the others as needed. (The other elves refuse to take money at all, too traditional to consider the idea.)
Additionally, with all of his connections, Blaise procures several bottles of butterbeer for festivities, much to everyone's excitement.
They are determined to stay up the whole night and return to their respective dorms early in the morning.
Everyone's prepared gifts, although no one bothers to open them in each others' presence.
Stories are shared and snacks are eaten all throughout the night. But inevitably, one by one, they start to dose or fall asleep entirely. Ed conjures a number of pillows and blankets as he watches his friends succumb to sleep.
In the end, he's the last one awake, never one to need much sleep anyway.
"Merry Christmas," he says aloud, smiling to himself.
And Merry Christmas, Al.
* * * * *
When they wake up in the morning and start heading back to get ready for the day, Ed discreetly asks Fred and George to hang back so he can give them their present.
Theirs are the only presents that require some amount of explanation, although he has no plans to explain everything.
When he brings out the hastily taped cardboard box, he can see the look of confusion on their faces. The confusion only grows worse when the peel back the top flaps to reveal several layers of solid gold bars nestled safely inside.
"These ones won't disappear," Ed explains, "and it's not exactly legal, but you won't get in trouble if you can figure out how to get an exchange at Gringotts."
"We can't accept this," George says.
"Yeah, we've got to blackmail Bagman for it!" Fred insists. "I don't want your money, I have to have his."
Ed crosses his arms. "You basically said I could help you out after I told you about the automail. So suck it up and take it, and stop doing stupid shit like blackmailing Ministry officials."
"Bagman's technically not a Ministry official," George corrects, dumbfounded.
Fred stares, astounded. "This must cost a fortune, Ed. Are you seriously expecting us to just take this without a fight?"
I'm not Sirius, but I know him, Ed thinks.
"Consider it an investment then," he says instead, "on all of your experiments. Finally start your dream business. Then pay me back when you can afford to."
Both of them open their mouths to argue, but Ed holds up his hand.
"I don't want to hear it," he says bluntly. "Take it or I'll burn it."
"You wouldn't," Fred accuses, "or… would you? Wait, would he?"
"He would," George murmurs, "he's a proper psycho, haven't you learned anything?"
"We'll take it," Fred says, taking the box from Ed as if he would set it ablaze right this moment. "Who would waste money like that," he whispers to himself, his horror apparently very real.
"Thank you," George says softly. "This means a lot more than financial stability, I hope you know that."
"Anytime," Ed says back, thinking of the day they learned about his automail. "Any time."
* * * * *
Ed and the other three champions have been forced to arrive punctually for the opening of the Hall, seeing as they are expected to perform the first dance of the evening.
Fred meets Ed at the base of the staircase and lets out a noise of appreciation.
"I know I was there when we helped you pick this out, but you look really good, Ed."
In addition to the over-the-top luxury he'd chosen to wear tonight, Ed had received Luna's aid in getting his hair ready and she'd not only created an intricate hairstyle for him with numerous tiny braids, but had taken the time to also weave in additional pearls throughout.
He's already getting looks for the color of his outfit alone, but he can hear people actively whispering about, "Who does he think he is, what the hell is he wearing, but don't you think he looks kind of okay? Merlin, don't ask me, I'm so confused".
It's exactly the effect he wants it to have.
"Thanks," Ed says with a slightly feral grin, "you don't look bad yourself."
He's not the only one receiving looks — Viktor gets his fair share of looks, which is to be expected, but Parvati Patil, dressed in an ornate sari decorated with magical symbols, receives plenty of stares and Hermione, standing next to Viktor, looks gorgeous in a pastel dress, her hair a perfectly groomed afro about her face.
"You look good," he makes a point of telling her.
She practically beams at him, her slightly too-large front teeth proudly shown.
He doesn't comment on Harry's awkwardness around Hermione.
(There's been little communication about the Golden Trio's internal problems since that one meeting, but Ed has a feeling they haven't quite worked out all of their issues.)
McGonagall stands at the front of the champions, right next to the door.
"We're about to begin," she says, looking out at them with pride. "Do your best!"
And the double doors open.
* * * * *
The Great Hall is once again decorated from top to bottom, except this time, everything has been covered with a delicate layer of magic frost, sparkly and warm to the touch. Everything from furniture to decorations has been cast an icy shade of blue and the sky's been enchanted to allow snowflakes to drift slowly down.
Everyone is dressed to the nines, professors included. Ed catches Remus' eye on his way to the center of the room, Fred's arm placed atop his, and winks.
Remus shakes his head while smiling ever so slightly.
The dance is short, even if it doesn't feel that way, and Ed leads Fred with ease despite their height difference, much to Fred's surprise.
"Is this what all that fuss was about?" Fred whispers, unable to fully disguise his surprise.
"I'm not talking about this," Ed whispers back.
There's polite applause when the dance comes to an end and something in Ed's chest comes loose and he feels he can breathe easily.
"Hard parts over," Fred grins, "but that is quite a fancy foot you've got there, Mr. Elric."
Ed punches his arm slightly. "Are you making fun of my leg?"
"No," Fred says with a laugh, "I'm complimenting it."
* * * * *
When Fred and Ed join the rest of the book club, he receives several compliments on the overall effect of his outfit as well as several enthusiastic thanks for his Christmas gifts.
He'd prepared a book of interesting and particularly annoying hexes for Ginny, who's eager to try them out on her family and friends, and a magically transcribed dictionary of Amestrian-English for Blaise, who averts his eyes whenever he sees Ed, most likely because he'd learned exactly what he'd been saying to him for the last year or so. Ed had given Neville a mug that keeps all of its contents the perfect temperature, painted with designs of dancing toads, and he'd made Luna another round of creature charms, which he can see her sporting currently on a necklace chain.
And he'd received quite a number of gifts as well.
Ginny had written out a very detailed list of instructions for performing her modified bat-bogey hex and Blaise had given him a very nice pair of black gloves, soft and magically sized to fit whoever wears them. Neville had gotten him a number of difficult-to-find books he'd been looking for and Luna had given him a depiction of Ed and the book club sitting at Ranklebury's, moving within the frame despite being made of paint. The twins had handed him a specialized dessert box, filled with newly invented prank candies, as well as yet another Weasley sweater — this one made to fit.
He thanks everyone in turn, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of thought and care that went into their presents. Ed had been touched by each one he'd opened and found himself at a loss for words, in the best of ways.
It seems like the evening will be almost normal, with Ed and his friends enjoying each others' company — at least if he doesn't think about how dressed up they all are.
"Merlin and Morgana, you look ridiculous. What the hell happened to you?"
Ed knows that voice.
He knows it oh-so-well.
But there's no way it belongs to who he thinks it does.
He turns around to face the last minute arrival and freezes.
Because obviously, who should arrive fashionably late other than Sirius Black.
* * * * *
"Sirius?" Ed says, dumbfounded.
"Sirius?" the twins repeat, glancing between Ed and the infamous Sirius Black.
"Ed," Sirius says with a laugh and a smirk.
"Sirius," Remus sighs, exasperated as he comes nearer.
"Remus," Ed grouches, realizing the man had been a part of this all along.
"Remus?" the rest of the book club repeats, shocked at the familiarity with which Ed addresses their Defense professor. The twins, having already been informed previously, don't bother to pretend they didn't know.
"Ed," Remus says, rubbing his eyes tiredly. This is going to be a pain in the ass to explain moving forward.
"Moony!" Sirius nearly shouts, overly happy to be causing the amount of chaos he is.
"MOONY?!" Fred practically screams, pointing a finger at Remus.
"Padfoot!" Sirius announces himself while gesturing when Remus stubbornly refuses to do so for him.
They're just lucky no one else is paying enough attention to listen in on their conversation, despite the amount of attention their odd little group has garnered.
"That's enough with the names now, don't you think?" Ed sighs, exhausted already.
* * * * *
It is a pain to explain Ed and Remus' relationship to the book club, but at the very least, the book club members are nothing if not accepting and uncaring of rather important details.
"So you let this little troll live in your house? Willingly?" Ginny whistles lowly. "I respect you, Mr. Black."
"Oh, I like you," Sirius replies, a wide grin on his face, even as Ed bites out that he's still taller than the youngest Weasley. "And just call me Sirius. Mr. Black makes me feel old."
"You are old," Ed grumbles, "even if you don't act your age."
"I'm not getting into this with you again, brat," Sirius sniffs, sticking his fingers in his ears.
"You're a lot different from what I expected," Neville says, flushing slightly as he realizes that may have been rude to admit aloud. He pulls at the collar of his robes. "I'm just glad Ed's been in good hands."
"Good hands," Ed scoffs, but can't help the look of fondness that overtakes his expression as he regards Sirius and Remus.
(It doesn't go unnoticed by his friends, who all exchange glances and smile in turn.)
* * * * *
Ed had known Fred and George were likely to discover the true identities of "Messieurs Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail, and Prongs", especially considering Sirius' cleared name, but he hadn't imagined Fred would imprint on Sirius' chaotic aura like a baby duckling. George, at least, has some semblance of respectability and manages to express his excitement without Fred's star-struck gaping.
"And we've used it to plan loads of pranks," Fred continues to babble to Sirius, who drinks everything the Weasley says with clear enthusiasm.
"I'm going to regret letting you two meet," Ed interrupts.
"Don't be jealous that we're getting along, kid."
"Who would be jealous?"
The only reason Sirius doesn't mess with his hair while giving him a shit-eating grin is that he'd ruin all of Luna's hard work.
* * * * *
Ed manages to catch Remus and Sirius alone and slip them their Christmas gifts.
He'd found them matching sweaters with moons and paw prints knitted into the respective patterns and figures they'll have enough of a sense of humor to actually wear them from time to time. Also, just to remind them how happy he is they got over themselves to work on their relationship, but that he, in no way, shape, or form, wanted to know how things were going.
Sirius chokes on his own spit from laughing so hard, while Remus' fingers twitch like they do before he presses them to his temples and lets out a long-suffering sigh.
"Merry Christmas," Ed grins.
"Happy Christmas, brat," Sirius says, handing him a carefully wrapped package.
Ed opens it to discover a well-loved Gryffindor jersey and snorts. "I'm not in Gryffindor," he reminds the man, who turns up his nose.
"I tried to convince him," Remus says apologetically.
Ed waves his hand. "It's fine, I think it's pretty funny."
Remus smiles. "And this is from me."
He holds out a book to Ed, who flips open the cover and finds it's a rare copy of Nicholas Flamel's autobiography.
"You, this, I was — how?"
"You can't be the only one to have secrets," Remus shrugs. "Trust me?"
Ed chews on his lip slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
"Then don't worry about it and go join your friends," the man replies, giving him an encouraging smile. "We'll talk soon."
* * * * *
Eventually, Remus and Sirius take off, looking to terrorize other members of the Hogwarts staff and Harry and his friends, if they haven't already. Meanwhile, the book club continues to mingle and snack and laugh as the hours pass, monopolizing a table stationed closest to the incredible spread of food and drink made available for the dance.
Ed, despite his empty threats and over-the-top displays of reluctance, is poked and prodded into dancing with all of his friends at least once. And while he'd never admit it aloud, he actually enjoys himself doing so.
The only people he allows to lead him in dancing are Ginny and Neville, as the rest of the book club members aren't quite good enough to do it, even if they are significantly taller than him.
Luna doesn't bother with ballroom dance and chooses to dance as she likes. Ed goes along with it and freely dances, unable to hold back laughter when he realizes just how ridiculous he looks in comparison to Luna's graceful movements.
Viktor dances with him once, as do Cedric and Hermione. At that point, a number of people he knows ask him to dance and he doesn't have it in him to say no, dancing with Fleur and Remus and Ernie and Hannah and Sirius. He even manages to badger Draco into dancing with him, even if the other boy acts terribly put upon throughout the whole song.
Spotting a number of Slytherins mingling or even dancing with members of other Houses makes Ed feel like he's experienced the first true moment of inter-House unity that he's been working for.
The entire thing is far less of an ordeal than he'd imagined it up to be in his head and he almost feels bad for being a pessimistic grouch to all of his friends the weeks before.
When the music slows and the crowd dwindles, Ed and the rest of the book club decide they've had enough excitement for the night and begin heading for bed. As they begin splitting off to reach their respective dorms, Fred lingers behind and Ed follows suit, curious.
"It was a busy night," Fred starts, walking the length of the hallway with slow, measured steps. The moonlight luminates the stone of the walls and floor with a pale, soft light. "Thanks for being my date."
"Of course," Ed says, smiling a little. "And what kind of date would I be if I don't walk you back, right?"
Fred shoots him a look, one Ed can't quite read, which feels strange, given how much Fred wears his heart on his sleeve.
"I had fun," Fred says, uncharacteristically serious as he smiles crookedly.
"Me too, surprisingly. Honestly thought I was just going to suffer through the whole thing, but it was good to see everyone enjoying themselves."
"Everyone?"
"Yeah, everyone. I don't think I've ever been surrounded by so many friends in my entire life. Actually, I've never had this many friends before. Not like this."
"Oh?"
"Used to be just me and my brother and our childhood friend," Ed explains a bit. "I'm not really good at getting along with people. It's confusing and harder than people make it seem." He flushes at his honesty. "But, I mean, I'm still not good at it, I just got lucky meeting a lot of people willing to tolerate me. Like you guys."
"We're not tolerating you," Fred says, stopping abruptly. "We keep trying to tell you that."
Ed's shoulders drop, relaxed. "I know, Fred. I'm just used to people reacting to me a certain way and it's easy to convince myself this is all a fluke."
They continue walking.
"It's not pretend. We really like you, Ed. We want you to know that. I— , we all do."
"Thanks, Fred."
They've reached the Fat Lady's portrait.
Fred's eyes wander over Ed's face, searching for something.
Ed waits for the other boy to speak.
"Thanks for the dance," he says eventually, that same crooked smile from earlier still on his face. His feet start to turn away, although his body is still turned to face Ed. "Good night, Ed."
"Night," Ed replies. He waves slightly and watches as Fred returns the wave and walks into the Gryffindor common room.
There's something oddly final about the way Fred said good night — as if he were saying goodbye.
Ed shakes the thought from his head.
He'll see Fred tomorrow.
There's no reason to worry needlessly, after all.
* * * * *
George is waiting in the window nook of the common room, curled up with his feet tucked underneath him as he so loves to sit when he's trying to get comfortable.
"You're back," he says with a grin, stretching out slightly as he takes in the sight of Fred strolling in.
Fred returns the favor with a tired grin and collapses on the other end of the window bench. He shucks off his shoes and sticks his sock-covered feet underneath George's legs.
"Hey," George complains, "I'm not a warming charm, keep your smelly feet to yourself."
Fred pouts. "Not even going to comfort your older brother when he's been dumped, are you? Some brother you are."
The look on George's face softens instantly. "You told him?"
Fred snorts in good humor. "Nope," he answers, closing his eyes and throwing his arm over his face. "I really thought I was going to, but I was staring at him and I was really thinking about it and, and I really, I just couldn't. And he said stuff that, well, what he said 's not so important."
Fred falls silent and George waits, knowing he has more to say.
"He's not like that with anyone, you know? He can barely understand how friendships work, that idiot." Fred smiles slightly. "And it seemed like telling him my feelings would be more a burden than anything given everything going on with him."
George nods slowly.
There were many nights already where Fred and George talked about Ed and about the secrets he had shared so far and the ones he hadn't.
Whatever Ed's life had been like before Hogwarts, they could only really guess, but it's rather clear that it had been a time full of unspoken hardships. When either of them consider how prickly Ed had been originally, they realize how lucky they are that they managed to find a friend in him now.
"I love Ed, and I know you do too," Fred continues, understanding George's quiet support for what it is. "And I don't want to make him feel bad about our friendship when we barely got him to accept that we're genuinely interested in being his friend, no ulterior motives. I feel like me telling him how I feel is one-hundred percent about me and has nothing to do with him."
George knows Fred can be reckless and seem selfish at times, but never with the intention to hurt. Deciding to give up on his feelings for the sake of someone else's is mature, but also entirely at odds with the Fred George usually knows and loves. "No one would blame you for wanting to."
"It's not like this is the first or last person I've ever liked," Fred says after a moment. "And how rare is it for us to make friends ourselves?"
Aside from Lee, they have few friends. They have plenty of acquaintances, but typically don't make an effort to get along with anyone too well. Perhaps they'd always been able to fall back on each other whenever a blossoming friendship had stifled for any number of reasons.
"You've got a point," George says quietly.
"And you thought I was being annoying last year when I forced you to get along with him."
"To be fair, he seemed violent and dangerous."
"And Merlin's pants, wasn't it wild finding out he is violent and dangerous? To himself, at the very least."
George groans as he covers his face with both hands. "That idiot causes me nearly as much stress as you do."
"Nearly?"
George kicks his brother off the bench.
Fred falls ungracefully with a yelp.
"Does that even need to be explained?"
"'Course not," Fred answers, rubbing his tailbone with a grin. "Love you too, Georgie."
"C'mon, you love-sick fool," George replies, "time for bed."
He holds out a hand, helping Fred up off the floor, and leads the way up the stairs to their dormitory.
If Fred's eyes are slightly red the next morning, George pretends he doesn't know exactly what happened in the privacy of his bed curtains.
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