WHO: Jeremy Dearborn & Barnaby Snell. WHAT: Patronus practice and talk of knighthood. WHEN: This evening, 21 November. WHERE: Jeremy's flat, Tinworth. WARNINGS: This is gross.
It occurred to Baz far too late — after they had already moved the couch aside to make a little practice area in the living room — that he was not particularly qualified to give Patronus lessons. His barely-there wisp paled in comparison to what Jeremy could learn from his brother’s coworkers, or his vigilante connections. However, a perfect storm of excitement and remorse outweighed these concerns: excitement over the idea of being useful in some way, remorse over last week’s fight. He would simply do his best imitation of Rhys Cadwallader and hope for the best.
His gaze kept drifting back to Jeremy as he warmed up his wand with a few practice swishes. Bright blue sparks shot out from the tip of his wand, casting the room — and Jeremy — in a blue glow.
“So what do you think your Patronus is?” he asked, with a smile that was half-encouraging, half-nervous.
“Well my inclination is to say either something really awesome or something really lame, so it’s probably whatever the most absolutely average animal in the universe is,” Jeremy replied with a shrug, pushing himself off the wall he’d found himself leaning against as he watched Baz warm up. He didn’t really have a lot of expectations for this practice session. His own attempts at a patronus thus far had been a spectacular failure, but it was a spell that tapped into happiness and joy. At the very least, this time he was in the right company for that.
“What about you?”
“Hmm.” Baz tapped his chin in mock thought as he pretended to mull the question over. “Obviously something really cool, like a wolf or a dragon.” Then, with a laugh, he sent a few sparks flying in Jeremy’s direction. “You’d be something cool too. It’s not like you’re average and milquetoast as a person, sooo.”
“So you won’t dump me if mine ends up being a snail or a chicken or something?” Jeremy grinned. “Then again, if it’s a snail I’ll probably just pretend I can’t do the spell after all. I’m making you go first, by the way, since you’re the one who’s had some luck here.”
“Right, okay,” Baz replied, squaring his shoulders and affecting a grandiose air. He offered Jeremy another quick smile before he let his focus wander, half-staring at a spot on the wall as he tried to clear his mind. He let his gaze settle there for the long breath he had to draw in before he could focus on his happy memory — his first Quidditch match. Then: “Expecto Patronum!”
The silvery tendril that erupted from his wand was still indistinct, but it felt as if it was on the verge of becoming something. He had made some progress over the past two months. Pleased, Baz looked to Jeremy and grinned. “So it’s still not much but we’re getting there! Do you want to give it a go?”
“I wouldn’t call that not much.” If anything, Jeremy was impressed. It had been a decidedly there bit of silver, which was a lot more than he could say for himself. Still, he took a slow breath as he focused, trying to come up with a memory that was happy enough for the spell. He didn’t really know why that felt so challenging.
Finally he settled on one, though it was clearly not the right one as he waved his wand with little result. “See,” he said, glancing at Baz, “that’s what I’d call not much. Or, you know, not anything, I guess.”
“Give it another shot,” came Baz’s encouraging reply, his mouth curved into a slight smile, “and I’ll help you make some more happy memories when we’re done.” He followed up his promise with a wink.
Jeremy rolled his eyes as he tried to suppress a smile that didn’t end up very suppressed at all. “Or we could just do that instead,” he suggested, letting the idea linger in the air for a moment before shrugging. “No? Oh fine.”
What he needed was a different memory, and Jeremy decided that he didn’t remember his childhood ones well enough to get the sort of feeling this required. He needed to pick something more recent, but the obvious made him feel a little self-conscious. When he cast it this time, there was a hint of something wispy and so barely there he wasn’t convinced there had actually been something there at all.
“I think it’s your turn.”
“That was progress, though!” Baz told Jeremy excitedly, his smile hopelessly fond. “And it didn’t look snail-like, either.”
“It didn’t look like anything.” But Jeremy felt vaguely encouraged as he took a step back to watch Baz give his another go.
Baz rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. His memory of that first Quidditch match began to blur, melding with his memory of the most recent Quidditch match he’d attended — a Caerphilly Catapults match with Jeremy while on holiday. A warm feeling spread through his chest as his Patronus finally emerged.
A silver spotted cat bounded across the floor, dazzling and bright, and Baz was buzzing with excitement as he met Jeremy’s gaze. “I knew it was going to be a jungle cat, I knew it, except…” His smile faded it a bit. “Why is it so small? Is my Patronus a fucking baby cat?”
Jeremy laughed before he could stop himself, reaching out and giving Baz’s arm a squeeze. “It’s cute! Everyone loves a jungle kitten, and it’s probably way more unique than a plain lion, tiger, or bear.” He let the ‘oh my’ stay silent as he grinned and held Baz’s gaze. The fact that he’d cast it at all was impressive and exciting. That was the part that mattered.
“Don’t let the size get you down. At least it’s not a flobberworm.”
Baz’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the cat. It peered back at him with comically oversized eyes. He was proud of himself for mastering the charm, but he felt a pang of annoyance, too. It was so… cute. “This is the least intimidating thing I’ve ever seen,” he groused, running a hand through his hair as he let out a put-upon sigh. “Do dementors laugh? They’re going to wheeze-laugh at me and then I’ll have my soul sucked out.”
“Yeah, man it super sucks that you just achieved this really difficult spell that a lot of people struggle with and all you got for your trouble was a perfectly great jungle cat patronus to brag about at parties and defeat evil soul-sucking creatures with. It must be so hard to be you right now,” Jeremy said dryly, nudging Baz with his shoulder. “Come on.”
“Yeah, and they’ll ask me how I managed to conjure a perfectly great jungle cat patronus and I’ll tell them I was thinking about you,” Baz replied smoothly, bumping Jeremy back with his own shoulder. He could feel a smile growing on his face and he tried to hide it behind the back of his hand as he continued, “Go on, it’s your turn now.”
“Wait, really?” Instead of making any move towards casting the spell again, Jeremy just glanced over with a look of amusement and a smile to match.
“Maybe,” Baz replied, dragging the vowels out. With a dramatic flourish of his wand, the cat dissipated into a fine mist before it faded away entirely. His attention snapped back to Jeremy, his enigmatic smile at odds with the faint color rising to his cheeks. “I refuse to confirm or deny this. I’m an international man of mystery.”
His smile twisted into a smirk as Jeremy snaked an arm around Baz’s waist and pulled him closer. “You liiiiiiike me,” he teased smugly. “You like me a lot. You like me so much.” He punctuated the last two words while wondering vaguely how many more times he could get away with saying that before Baz felt the need to complain about feeling itchy. He’d probably already pushed his luck, but also he didn’t care.
“And who could blame you? I’m great.”
Baz made a show of rolling his eyes as he slipped out of Jeremy’s grasp. “You’re alright,” he said, somehow managing to keep his face clear of a stupid grin. But there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he continued, “But you’re too easily distracted. I’m going to tell your anonymous vigilante friends that you couldn’t learn the Patronus because you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”
Jeremy sighed, looking a little put out that Baz pulled away, but it was really only for dramatic effect. “That is a much better reason than the real one! I think they’ll understand. Besides, now that you’ve got yours, I’ll just let you rescue me from the big bad dementors. You can be all dashing and knight-like — you’ll love it.”
“Yeah?” A smile lit up Baz’s face. He took a few steps backward, hooking a thumb in his belt loop, until he hit the couch, then leaned against it in a way that was meant to be both charming and casual. “I could probably pull off the knight-in-shining-armor thing. But like, a roguish knight. A loose cannon knight. A knight,” he deepened his voice for dramatic effect, “that doesn’t play by the rules.”
In reality, Jeremy thought Baz looked charming, casual, and a bit ridiculous but he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off him anyway. “Well sure. I mean, consider your beard. You can’t play by the rules with facial hair like that. That’s for the clean-shaven.”
“Sir Barnaby, at your service, sir,” Baz declared, grinning wildly as he made a sweeping bow. “Gwen is the Lady Guinevere, obviously, and Chelsea is... “ His voice trailed off as he tried to recall some names from Arthurian legend. “Chelsea is obviously hiding some wickedness deep down in her heart, so she can be the dreaded Morgan le Fay. Owen can be Owain, which I think makes him Chelsea’s son?”
“I can’t believe this went from vaguely sexy to so nerdy so fast,” Jeremy said, taking a few steps closer. “I can’t remember if that makes Owen Chelsea’s son or not, but who am I in this scenario?”
“Galahad?” was Baz’s first suggestion, though he quickly tacked on, through a smirk, “Except I know you’re not nearly as virtuous.”
“Aren’t I?” Jeremy took another step closer, running a hand up Baz’s thigh with a smirk of his own. “Because I’ve been trying to prove that for at least the last like...three minutes and you seem really inclined to keep me virtuous.”
Fighting a smile, Baz leaned back, keeping a little distance between them. Still, he let his gaze slide down Jeremy’s front rather pointedly. “What about Patronus practice?”
In turn, Jeremy leaned forward just a little, his gaze flicking between Baz’s eyes and his mouth. “You successfully cast yours, remember? That seems like the sort of thing we ought to pause for and celebrate. We can always practice again later.”
Baz allowed himself to smile an open, unguarded smile before tugging Jeremy closer, until there wasn’t a hairsbreadth of space between them. “That is a very good plan, Sir Jeremy,” was murmured against his mouth, and then there wasn’t anything left to say.