The tape was beginning to cut off the circulation to his hand, as Thomas had lost count of how many times he had wrapped it around his wrist. He sat on the far end of the bench, staring daggers at his once again, arguing teammates. He could feel his angry heartbeat thudding in his throat as Wadcock and MacFarlan hollered and shrieked like no one could hear them. Problem was, they all could hear them, the rest of the bloody team that they didn’t seem to care about.

“You’re a stalker, Wadcock!” Odette screamed, “You completely mutilated my hippogriff doll, you assaulted my fiancé! What’s next?! Kidnapping Terry?!”

“I only did it because----he verbally assaulted me!” Seth threw his arms up, looking as if he honestly believed there was nothing wrong with shoving another man up against the wall for some spilled coffee, or the fact that sending someone the torn up bits of a stuffed animal was fine and normal.

Thomas watched with his tongue running over his teeth in frustration. These two idiots were going to ruin their season. They were going to ruin their chances at the cup. They had a seeker who couldn’t concentrate because she was constantly looking over her shoulder at what their idiot beater and captain was going to do next. And Seth! Seth was married and didn’t seem to understand that it was not okay to harass someone like he was harassing Odette. And of course she couldn't just ignore his antics, no, she had to go and retaliate like the child that she was and it was just one big endless, annoying circle. Thomas really hated them for it.

He watched as Joey slipped away and out the back door of the locker room, too scared to be in the same room as their feuding teammates. Smart kid, but the older members of the Magpies knew that leaving these two alone would only cause more team destruction. Maggie would go from trying to break up the fight to cursing them just as loudly. Drystan stewed against the lockers behind Odette, as if waiting to strike out and attack Seth in the face if he crossed a line. Thomas sat nearest to Drake, who had leaned back on the bench and kicked up his feet to prop them against a locker. There was a book in the keeper’s hands, but Thomas had noticed that a page hadn’t been turned in the last five minutes; Drake was trying to play it cool but the growing vein in the side of his neck was betraying him.

“You are---” Odette’s head looked ready to pop off, she was so red in the face. She stomped her foot and Thomas was surprised that she didn’t send a fault line down the locker room floor, though she’d caused Seth’s thrown down equipment to bounce, “You are ruining my team!”

Before Seth could respond, Thomas felt a strange, strong feeling rise up in his chest and he stood quickly, pulling his leg over the bench and storming toward the two, “You have to be fucking kidding me!” he let out loudly, stopping just a foot away from the two quarreling players.

“Your team? YOUR team?” Thomas pointed a stiff finger at Odette, shaking his head furiously. He knew somewhere in his head that her words were probably out of anger and frustration, but they had officially snapped Thomas’ streak of silent patience, “I have been a fucking Magpie as long as you and don’t you forget it!”

Odette gaped, putting her hand out to respond to Thomas, but he’d been pushed far enough and whirled on Seth,

“And you! You bloody ponce!” Thomas felt a great pleasure at seeing Wadcock’s mouth drop open like a fish out of water, “You abandon the United when your team needs you the most for an easy title of captain---for a team you knew fucking nothing about! And then you treat us like garbage and like we owe you something for coming!”

“Now hold on!“ Seth tried to intervene, but something flew between his and Thomas’ head and slammed loudly into the lockers. A book dropped nosily to the ground at their feet.

“Let the man talk!” Drake shouted from his still relaxed position on the bench, “McCormack hasn’t said a word all season, let him talk.”

“Keep going, Thomas!” Maggie cheered, and over Odette’s shoulder Thomas caught a nod of approval from Drystan. The support of his other teammates urged him on, and he took a step back so he’d be able to address both Odette and Seth, whose expressions were of shock and a surprising amount of guilt. Thomas usually kept his mouth shut, but he’d been feeling so…he was feeling jipped and angry, and bitter at this entire situation and it just had to end.

“I have worked my ass off to get where I am today,” he said lowly, his voice loaded with emotion he rarely showed. All Thomas ever wanted to do was play quidditch, he didn’t deal with the politics, he had no aspirations to be a captain or an all-star. He just wanted to play quidditch, and with Odette and Seth ruining his one true joy, his patience had completely disappeared, “I. Have worked. My ass off and I am not going to let our chance at a title run go to waste because you two have some ridiculous, childish issues to sort out.” He kicked one of the fallen shin guards toward them angrily, “Get your shit together!”

With that he turned and stormed out of the locker room, though he acknowledged Drake’s howl of approval with a quick and hard high-five as he passed the lounging keeper. Shouts of laughter from Maggie (and maybe Drystan?) could be heard through the swinging locker room doors, but Thomas kept his stride out of the back halls and onto the pitch to let off some steam.

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Thomas didn’t quite understand Rose. She always made him do the things she was too nervous to do and he was just chivalrous enough to go out and fall to the girl’s bidding. It amazed him how riled up she could get over things, but she often worried him into thinking that she was going to absolutely lose her mind if whatever she wanted to happen, didn’t happen.

“You don’t have to do it,” she whispered, even though it was far past midnight and no Ravenclaw in their right mind would be out of bed, as final exams week started tomorrow. Thomas supposed that he and Rose occasionally were out of their minds, and that was why they got along so well.

“I didn’t say I was,” he said back, pulling his feet off the floor and pulling his knees to his chest. He watched as Rose’s face twisted, trying not to seem disappointed in his response. It was quite obvious that she was, and her valiant effort made him think twice. “Why do you want me to do it?”

“Because,” she let out, exasperated with herself and him and the entire situation, “I don’t want to finish my fifth year being the only girl who....well, you know.”

Thomas’ eyes narrowed at her, and he leaned forward, the blanket he’d thrown over his bare shoulders slipping off, “You’re not asking me to have sex with you, are you?”

How Rose managed to illicit the sharpest, but quietest and most affronted squeal he’d ever heard, Thomas could not tell you. She reached out and slapped his arm, and he frowned in annoyance. He was only asking a question.

“You’re making it seem like that big of a deal!” he let out, earning himself another slap in the arm. Rose pulled her robes tighter around her and she shook her head, looking ready to jolt back up the steps to the girls’ dormitory.

“I just want you to kiss me, for goodness’ sake!” Rose squeaked, shaking her head in disgust, “Why can’t a girl just want to be kissed, why does it have to lead all the way to shagging? Danielle and Donovan have been together for over a year and they still haven’t---”

“They haven’t? Really?”

“No, they haven’t and I really can’t figure out why---”

“----that’s so weird, I would’ve bet my broomstick--”

“Me too, but don’t tell because she really hates talking about it and----” Rose slapped her hand down onto his thigh, making him jump, “Thomas! You’ve got to kiss me before I lose my nerve!”

He sighed, pushing his back into the couch as he stared at Rose. She looked at him expectantly, and he knew that if he didn’t kiss her right now that she’d be miffed with him all week and it would just really annoy him in the most frustrating of ways. She would look sad and disappointed, and then he’d feel like a complete jerk and have to do something to make it up to her even though she was the one forcing him into this.

He really did not understand his relationship with Rose Knightley.

“Fine, come here,” he said, twisting to face her. Rose’s back stiffened and she straightened immediately, looking as if she’d seen a ghost. Thomas hadn’t kissed many girls before (only one, to be exact), but he knew that a kiss was no fun when it looked like you had a broomstick up the back of your shirt. He tugged on her ankle to pull her into a more comfortable position and let his foot drop down to the floor, his toes drifting across the carpet.

His hands found themselves on the side of her face and Thomas stared at Rose for a few seconds, “Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to be bad at it,” she let out in a nervous, breathy voice that made Thomas’ eyes go out of focus for a moment. He shook his head, leaning forward and kissing her to prove that she would not be bad at this at all.

Ooh, and she wasn’t.

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Thomas sat cross-legged on the grass, staring up at Professor Kettleburn with wide, suspicious eyes. The Care of Magical Creatures professor had wild blonde hair that stood on end because of the goggles pushed up against his forehead. His bright blue eyes were jumping from each of the third years excitedly, his dragon hide gloves going up to his elbows and shining in the sunlight as he wildly gesticulated his introduction to the class.

“You are all going to have the time of your life learning about magical creatures!” Kettleburn exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Thomas shook his head. That statement was false and quite clearly an exaggeration.

Firstly, they were sitting on the wet grass. Second, the professor’s own daughter, a girl in Thomas’ House and year, was not taking the class. If his own daughter, who would surely get an O wouldn’t sign up for these lessons, then why should anyone else? Thirdly, it was rumored that Kettleburn was certifiably insane. How could he have signed up for Care of Magical Creatures with all of those variables against the class before it had even begun?

Thomas turned and looked at the girl next to him. Izzie Egg was resting on her knees with her back straight as a board. She looked very interested in what the professor had to say, and she bounced a little. She must have felt his gaze on her because a moment later Izzie looked over and smiled down at him, her blonde curls falling into her face. She mouthed ‘exciting!’ and then turned back to attention. Thomas scowled, propping his head up in his hand while his elbow dug into his thigh.

“Right then!” Kettleburn exclaimed, “For your first lesson, we’re going to be catching and herding diricawls!”

Half of the class let out a sound of intrigue, but Thomas just rolled his eyes. Diricawls were near impossible to catch because they had the ability to disappear when threatened. This was obviously a way to make the class seem like fun, but be absolutely pointless and used as a method to simply tire the third years out in their last lesson of the day. What was Kettleburn going to do, dock points because someone wasn’t physically fast enough to catch one of the dumb birds?

“Come on, Thomas!” Izzie chirped, grabbing onto his arm to pull him up. He groaned, getting caught in his cloak before making it to his feet. He allowed Izzie to tug him toward the large pen where the diricawls were clucking around, seemingly peaceful. Izzie let out another sound and let go of his arm to hang on the fence surrounding the birds. Thomas lagged behind, not seeing the point in any of this and realizing that he was going to have to go through another three years of dealing with animals that he’d never run into in a real life situation.

“Mister McCormack!” Kettleburn exclaimed, coming up from behind Thomas. The third year winced at the sound of his name, and let out a surprised sound when Kettleburn’s hand whacked his back. But it wasn’t the typical supportivev pat. It was hard and the sound that echoed made Thomas jump around to face the professor.

“What’s wrong with your hand!” he yelped, pointing his finger stiffly at Kettleburn. The professor laughed, and with his left hand he pulled the leathery glove off of his right. The shriek Thomas let out at the sight of the shiny metal hand that was revealed was enough to cause all the diricawls to vanish into feathery poofs.

“Had a bugbear chew it right off last month, isn’t she a beaut?” Kettleburn said dreamily, holding up the metal hand to the sun.

“NOPE!” Thomas let out, throwing his hands up and skittering past Kettleburn. He swept up his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stormed up the side of the hill to the castle. Nope, nope, not taking this bloody stupid class, no matter how pretty Izzie Egg was.

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Thomas woke with a start. Half of his body was slung over the edge of the bed, his bare torso feeling quite cold in the morning breeze that was blowing through the window. He kept his head on the pillow, blinking wearily at the window that had caused him to wake. The coral colored curtains waved in the light breeze and the sun beaming through created a warm glow. He stared at them for a moment, wondering when he had put coral colored curtains up in his bedroom. They had always been a dark shade of green.

He let a long breath out of his nose as it occurred to him that he was not in his own bed.

Part of him wanted to jump out of the bed and make a mad dash for the Floo. He checked under the blanket to make sure he wasn’t starkers and was relieved to find that he was at least partially dressed. He didn’t feel the regular ache of a hangover and his memories of the night were quite clear, except of course for the face of the girl whose flat he had ended up in. For some reason all he could recalll were stars and hearts and sparkles. What had he drank or eaten to have put him in such a fog? A dull pain in his shoulder made him reach behind him and press his palm against it. When he brought it back to in front of his face, his hand was covered in red and pink glitter.

“Brookstanton,” Thomas muttered, his nemesis’ costume coming to mind. Of course the arrows that ‘Cupid’ was shooting would be contaminated with a love potion. Bloody hell, that meant whoever he laid eyes on first he’d followed around like a lovesick puppy. Merlin’s beard---

The thought made all of his grogginess disappear and he sat up quickly. From what Thomas could recall, it had seemed like a rather good, he’d even say great night, but what if that was just the potion talking? What if his eyes were seeing through rose-colored corneas and the woman he’d gone home with was really a disgusting troll? He couldn’t risk a morning encounter with a troll. That was when they were their most fierce!

Thomas pulled himself out from under the blanket and began his search for his trousers and shoes. His shirt, he could do without, but he needed to have pants on if he wanted to escape. He found his shoes tucked under a chair and his trousers were folded neatly on top of a dresser by the window. Whoever this mystery woman was, she was tidy. It made Thomas feel a little better; what kind of troll kept a clean room? He reached for his trousers and it was then that he noticed a picture on top of the dresser.

His heart froze, it sunk into the pit of his stomach and cracked in the acid, breaking away into a thousand, million pieces and disintegrated into nothing. The picture was of two quite similarly looking people, waving happily with their arms around each other’s shoulders. A boy and a girl, two blondes, two very familiar twins, one of whom Thomas had found himself as the recent target of affection of. He grabbed the picture to make sure he was seeing things clearly, maybe he was still under a spell? No, no.

“Bugger,” he muttered as the photographic image of Delilah Spinnet bounced around under the arm of her twin brother, who was already bent on pulverizing him. The last thing Thomas needed was to be found in Delilah’s bed. What was he thinking? He hadn’t been thinking! It was the potion! He’d have to put her down gently, they were just friends, he couldn’t possibly---

His shoulders scrunched in terror at the sound of a door opening and Thomas could feel a pair of eyes boring into his back. He couldn’t turn around, he couldn’t, he couldn’t.

“Are you hungry?”

Thomas’ ears perked up. That was not the voice of Delilah Spinnet. He knew Delilah's voice very well, as it had been talking his ears off for the past few weeks. He turned and could not hold back his surprise at the sight of the pretty redhead standing in the doorway, wearing his old Ravenclaw school jersey that he’d worn to the party last night (he had been short on costume ideas, it was the easiest thing!). It was all she was wearing, from the look of her very bare legs, and now that he could see her face again the sparkly fog from last night lifted from his mind.

“Nora,” Thomas said, the night finally coming back to him. Oh, oh thank God! It was someone he knew, it was someone he’d dated back in Hogwarts, it wasn’t some troll, or worse, some trollop.

“So you were that drunk,” she supplied, tying her wild curls back. Thomas was drawn to her, crossing over the room to greet her; could the spell still be in place? Thomas couldn’t believe it, not with how pretty she looked in the morning light. Now he was beginning to remember details of the night before. He’d walked straight up to Nora and told her how ruddy gorgeous she was in her short red dress. He’d been so forward that he’d kissed her by the exit doors and they’d snogged in the lobby for quite some time before she deliriously disapparated them to her flat.

She seemed rather shy now, and blushed deeply when Thomas came close and tugged on the sleeve of the jersey.

“I’m leaving for Australia in three hours,” Nora said, earning a frown from Thomas, “I can make you breakfast before you head out...” She sounded honest about her offer, but her hands had drifted to the waistband of his pants. He grinned, nodding in approval of this idea but before she could move away he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her toward him.

Thomas kissed her, hard, and before he knew what he was doing he’d backed Nora up against the wall beside the door. His hand held her wrists above her head as he tugged up her jersey, reveling in the feel of her lips and how bloody wrong it was that they were doing this when she’d be leaving the country to return Merlin knew when.

Nora then bit Thomas’ lip and that was all the encouragement he needed. He’d blame his actions on the love spell when his conscience finally got the better of him.

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His day had been a complete nightmare.

It had all started this morning at home as he was getting ready for his first year at Hogwarts. He had been excited, bouncing around and promptly knocking over twelve picture frames and a lamp. Thomas and his parents were on the front porch of his house, ready to go with his trunk and owl when his older sister Catriona arrived with her crew, her agent, a reporter, some photographers, and a big fat man named Slughorn.

The professional quidditch player and media princess had determined that today would be a great day for a photo-op! Scotland’s Pride, taking a day off to send her darling little brother to Hogwarts, what a fantastic idea! Thomas had been forced to stand and pose with Catriona and her former Head of House, exclaiming that she could not wait to share such a connection with him. How proud of a Slytherin family they were, completely ignoring the fact that their father and mother hailed from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, respectively.

After the crowd had left, Catriona pulled Thomas to the side and, in her most sincere and loving tone, told him that he better not be sorted into one of those other blasted, prissy houses, or she’d make sure that he’d never fly straight on his broomstick again. With a kiss on the forehead, she’d flounced away and out the front door. Once it had shut, Thomas promptly got sick all over the front of his robes.

For the entire trip to King’s Cross, his mother patted down his hair and rubbed his back. They knew how easily Catriona worked on her brother’s nerves, as she had since he had ‘surprised’ their family eleven years ago. Catriona had not taken well to no longer being an only child, and Thomas had never been allowed to forget that.

“You’re going to be fine,” his mother cooed, bending in front of him and taking his face in her hands. Thomas’ chest hitched as he forced himself to keep calm. He had told himself not to cry, but with his pale skin and complete silence, it was easy to tell that he was beyond nervous. “Your robes are clean, your owl is fed, and it doesn’t matter what House you’re sorted into, okay?”

“But--” he managed to choke out.

“Your sister’s a dobber,” his father grunted, shaking his head. Thomas’ eyes widened at the insult and his mother quietly reprimanded her husband, but there was a bit of a smile on her face. “Now, get on the train and make us proud.”

The train ride had been long and tiring. Thomas had ducked into the first empty compartment he could find, and was soon joined by a few older students who paid no attention to him, even when their gobstones squirted in his face. The snack trolley came by, but he’d left all of his money packed deep into his trunk. He had just fallen asleep when one of the older boys, a prefect, shook him awake to tell him they were to get off the train. The first years were huddled together and made their way to the castle on little boats.

Thomas enjoyed this part. The stars were bright in the clear night sky and the moon bounced off the water of the lake in a supernatural manner. He leaned on the edge of the boat and looked over into the water; he was sure that he saw someone waving back to him, a mermaid? The excitement he’d felt when he woke up this morning was slowly coming back to him and he was glad for it.

The feeling didn’t last long, however. As they were ushered inside the castle he spotted the reason of his despair. The Sorting Hat. Thomas blanched, feeling as if he was going to get sick again. Breathe! In, out, in, out! He blinked furiously as the Hat began to sing and he felt the bile come back up his throat. Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin! his mind begged over and over. He needed to be sorted into Slytherin, or else his sister would have his head.

Or worse, she’d break his broomstick!

Thomas put a hand to his chest as the professor standing beside the Sorting hat began to call names. He could not breathe. He wasn’t going to get into Slytherin and his sister was going to kill him. She would sneak into his dorm and smother him with his pillow, his red pillow, or blue, or yellow! Something knocking into his knees broke him from his silent panic, and the sight of a head of blonde curls startled him.

“Erm.” Thomas fiddled with his fingers and pulled back when the girl shot her head up. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t want to be typed!” she squeaked, ducking her head again. Thomas looked around, wondering if anyone else was seeing this. When he saw that the rest of the group was focused on the Sorting (“Bulstrode!” “SLYTHERIN!”). Thomas took a quick breath and unsure why, he poked the hiding girl in the shoulder.

“Could you get up?” he muttered, “You’re head-butting my knees.”

The girl sent him a harsh look, but she did stand. She looked about as stressed as he felt, and that made Thomas feel better, helping him ignore the sorting (“Egg!” “.....HUFFLEPUFF!”)

“Fine...” she let out a breath, “I’m just nervous about getting Sorted.”

Startled that someone would admit to that, as he had been determined on never revealing his fears for the rest of his life, which might be cut rather short if he wasn’t sent to Slytherin, Thomas finally let all of his pent up stress flood over him. His face took on a weary expression, and the girl definitely noticed his shift in emotions.

He hesitated. (“Jorkins! “GRYFFINDOR!!”). He had no idea who she was, but after her display of panic, he was sure that she would understand his fear completely and he needed to know that he was not alone in all of this.

“I think I might be nervous too,” Thomas whispered, flushing. The girl seemed to understand his thoughts, and she nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“I’m Rose,” she said.

“Thomas,” he responded, turning to face front, fearing that he may have missed his name. The girl ducked behind him and Thomas took in a deep, withering breath. A few more students were called up, and he was surprised to find that Rose was sent up to the stage before him, when her name was called.

“KNIGHTLEY!” He heard a tiny squeak come from behind him, but Rose made it through the dwindling crowd and up the steps. Thomas watched with great anxiety as the Sorting Hat was put onto her head. He didn’t breathe, he didn’t blink----“RAVENCLAW!”

The look of relief that swept over Rose’s face had an affect on him. She no longer looked ready to get sick, or at least she was very good at hiding it. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as they both thought. Maybe---

“McCormack!”

Thomas’ hands balled into fists, his feet moving him forward. He couldn’t do this! Why were his feet moving without him! Why was he sitting? Don’t put that hat on his head!

“Ah, I’d heard there was another McCormack!” the voice of the Sorting Hat mused between his ears. Thomas was holding his breath “Breathe, boy! You’re losing brain cells!”

“Send me to Slytherin, please,” he asked quietly.

“Slytherin? No, no, you’re ambitious, but you’ve got a lot more going for you than that.”

“But Catriona---”

“Don’t worry about her. She cried her eyes out when she got Sorted to Slytherin.”

That was not the story Thomas had heard. Catriona had regaled her family with how the entire Slytherin House had roared and cheered at her sorting, as they just knew it was a wise, wise investment.

“Where do I belong, then?” Thomas asked, feeling as if he had been under the Sorting Hat for far longer than he could remember any of the other first years.

“You’re fiercely loyal, to a fault. Hard-working, too, most definitely...decisions, decisions. Where do you want to go?”

Thomas was surprised at how quickly he responded, “Ravenclaw. Like my mum.”

“Ahh, that a boy,-----RAVENCLAW!”

The Hat was taken off his head and Thomas blinked, surprised to see the Ravenclaw table jumping up with their cheers. He had heard that particularly long Sorting decisions were often the most exciting. He flushed furiously and scurried over to the table, taking a seat beside Rose. She patted his shoulder happily, and he finally felt like he could take his first real breath of the day.

persepective challenge

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“And if you haven’t noticed,” Kendall said, his voice dropping to a whisper. He leaned close, eyes darting back and forth even though he knew Rose was within earshot. Thomas’ neck stretched, involuntarily intrigued at this secret he was about to hear. Kendall cleared his throat, “She’s a girl.”

Thomas blinked. “I’m aware of that.”

The Hufflepuff’s hands flew up into the air and Rose let out a huff of frustration.

“Well, how’s that supposed to work, then?” Kendall exclaimed, “What’s it going to be like when she starts---you know?”

“When I start what?” Rose squeaked, back stiffening. Thomas remained seated on the floor, completely bewildered by the conversation being bounced around above his head. Kendall twittered a little, shaking his head and causing his whole body to wiggle as he tried to figure out what to say.

“When you start doing girl things,” he retorted, obviously displeased with his own response. He frowned, but decided to go with it, “I don’t think Thomas will want to do girl things.”

Thomas’ head shot toward Rose, eyebrows high, “Are you going to make me do girl things?”

Rose sputtered, putting her hands up and looking just as confused as the two boys. “I don’t know what you mean! I play quidditch! I like gobstones---what makes those boy things, anyhow?”

“See, she likes quidditch,” Thomas countered, tugging at his shoelace.

“I’m a Ravenclaw!” Rose piped up, her chin raising. Kendall’s face turned purple. “I won’t ever have to play against Thomas in matches. That would cause problems...I’d presume.”

Thomas watched as the two began to bicker, leaving Thomas to sit and watch the banter be tossed back and forth between his friends. He wasn’t sure what all the fussing was about! It had started at lunch today, when Kendall had referred to Thomas as his best friend. That was all well and good, but Thomas had quickly pointed out, though not to hurt the other boy’s feelings, that Rose had been his best friend since the first day of school. Kendall had not taken kindly to that, and the past half hour had been devoted to arguing who should really lay claim to the title of Thomas’ best friend.

He, honestly, was not too concerned about it, but Kendall and Rose were highly miffed with each other.

“Fine, but what if one day she falls in love with you!” Kendall exclaimed, causing Thomas’ cheeks to burn a bright red. He didn’t dare look over at Rose, but he heard the strangled sounds she was letting out quite clearly.

“He could fall in love with me!” Rose shot back, and Thomas covered his ears with his hands.

“No one is falling in love with anybody!” he shouted, standing, hands still over his ears. He did not want to talk about falling in love with any girl, let alone Rose! “This is stupid! This conversation is over!”

Kendall opened his mouth to retort, but Thomas pointed a stiff finger at the Hufflepuff, “You’re both my best friends! What’s it matter? I don’t go around telling everyone about it!”

“But---”

“But what?” Thomas groaned, “I’m happy to have any friends at all, and you’re making me feel bad about having two!” He turned back to Rose, who now sat stiff as a board on the end of the couch. “You leave me alone now, the both of you!”

“I didn’t say--”

“It was just---”

“Nope, I---” Thomas bit the inside of his cheek, gesturing between the two of them. He had an idea. No matter he outcome of this silly discussion, Thomas was not going to stop hanging out, or being friends with either of them. He had no qualms about titles or time spent, but if they did... “If you guys want to be my best friends, then you have to become best friends. That’s it. That’s how we fix this.”

“BUT!” Both Kendall and Rose exclaimed, but Thomas covered his ears again.

“BEST FRIENDS!” he shouted before storming out of the room. They both liked him for some reason, they should have something in common, right?

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He kissed the top of the baby’s head, eyes darting over to her mother who had just entered the room.

“Shh.”

Julia gasped, “You are not allowed to shush me! I’m the one that went through hours upon hours of labor for that little one.” Her offended tirade was whispered, her expression light. Thomas’ nose scrunched in amusement and he lifted his chin to kiss her properly as she sat on the edge of the chair.

“I thought she might make it to midnight,” Thomas mused, had running up and down Alice’s back in a soothing manner. He squinted at the clock across the room, “Five minutes ‘till.”

“Rather boring New Year’s Eve, hm?” Julia said. “I can’t believe there wasn’t a party going on for you famous quiddy players.”

“Quidditch,” Thomas gently corrected. Julia pursed her lips and shrugged; he knew that she was well aware of what his sport was called, but she constantly refused to acknowledge it properly. He felt it was his own fault, that it was quidditch that had kept them from properly enjoying the past few months. Thomas knew her resentment was justified, and the guilt laid heavy on his shoulders.

“Quidditch,” Julia repeated, “For you quidditch players.”

“There was,” he admitted, shutting his eyes as he prepared to get pinched. When the pain didn’t come, Thomas opened his eyes slowly and smiled meekly at Julia. She looked stunned and confused.

“You stayed in?”

“I stayed in.”

“That was sweet of you.”

“I can be sweet.”

Julia pursed her lips and then stood, swatting his nose with her finger, “I’m going to go rummage up some champagne to ring in the new year. Need a bit of bubbly for a fresh start, yeah?”

Thomas grinned widely and watched her go. He took in a deep breath, Alice resting perfectly against his chest. This was how he’d wanted to spend the holiday, just like this. He shut his eyes, though he willed himself to push away his exhaustion. A toast to new beginnings was just what they needed. A new year, a new day, a new life. That’s what he’d been searching for...

A tree branch knocked against the window of the living room and startled him awake. Thomas squinted toward the clock atop the mantle and frowned at the time.

He missed it. He missed the clock strike twelve. How had he…?

As he grew more coherent, Thomas realized that he was still in his dress robes from the WWN party, Alice’s little fist gripping tightly on his collar. He’d gotten Rose rather drunk pretty quickly and had escaped from the night. She had been the only reason he’d made it out that evening, he felt obligated to spend time with her and Kendall, but he’d wanted to be home…

His hand rested comfortingly on Alice’s back. Thomas watched her rise and fall against his chest and he was struck with the painful realization that his mind still hadn’t accepted that Julia was gone. They’d had so little time together, and he’d wasted it. Was there something wrong with him that he couldn’t accept things that were good? That he pushed them away on the off chance they would hurt him someday?

Thomas shut his eyes again in hopes that he could push away the thoughts that had been drowning him these last few weeks. He’d spend this next year working on being better he resolved, falling asleep to the sound of his daughter’s breaths.

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The cold snow stung as it seeped through the knees of his jeans, but Thomas accepted the discomfort. He laid the bouquet of flowers at the base of the tombstone and sat back on his feet, frowning. Tomorrow would be one year since Julia died, and it had snowed just like it had all those nights ago.

So much had happened within the past year that Thomas’ head spun as he tried to recall it all. He left pictures of Alice pressed against the stone, non-magical ones because of the muggle cemetery, and stared in awe at how much the baby had changed since she was born. Thomas remembered when she was small enough to rest, with space to spare, on the length of his forearm. Now she was walking and getting into all sorts of trouble.

He wanted to relate every detail, but his anxiousness grew each time he attempted to open his mouth. Julia had changed his entire life, every last aspect of him was twisted around and erupted anew because of the woman buried six feet under him. Thomas hated himself for not sharing her with the rest of his world when he had the chance, finding his reasonings for keeping her and their own world a secret harder and harder to believe each day he moved further away from it.

She had appreciated his careful devotion to her. She’d told him that. Thomas wondered every day if she only said she did because she loved him, and it made him sadder to think that she had allowed his idiocy to go on for as long as it had because she’d felt that way about him.

How was he going to make it through another year? Alice would be a year old tomorrow and the cycle of days would continue again, and Thomas would find himself back in the cemetery, kneeling in the snow, and regretting the decisions he’d made. He didn’t deserve to find the happiness he’d had with Julia again; he’d had it once and had wasted it in fear of losing it. It was ridiculous, really, how ironic it was. He had been terrified of ruining what they had and never got to share it before she was gone.

Pitiful.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, gaze dropping from the name etched in the stone. Thomas pressed his knuckles into his eyes and let out a strained breath. They’d lived a life that he could barely prove existed if it weren’t for their daughter. Outside of Alice there were only a handful of pictures that could document Julia had been a real person, that her hair was that beautiful shade of gold, her eyes were so big and bright---Alice had her eyes.

Thomas sat back, dropping completely into the snow. Alice’s first birthday was tomorrow, and the party his friends and family had been arranging was more elaborate than any first birthday party ever was. Everyone would be happy and smiling, in great spirits because they loved that little girl and remembered her first months of struggle. She deserved to be celebrated because it was a miracle she’d even been born. Thomas still struggled with accepting that his daughter wasn’t as fragile as he made her out to be and as he stared at the tombstone he wondered if he’d ever be able to do more than tiptoe through life.

He rested a few more minutes in the snow before pushing himself up to his feet. Somehow, he was going to make it through the next three hundred and sixty five days. Somehow. Thomas muttered a good-bye to no one, perhaps to the stone, before taking the first few steps towards the next year.

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