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Charmed by TheHeirOfSlytherin
Chapter 4 : Hugo: Someone Else's Angel
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 1


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Being a third year sucks.

You're officially a teenager, able to leave school grounds on weekends because they believe that you're responsible. But they still treat you like children; the curfew is still nine o'clock and the weekends are restricted to when the headmaster tells you that you can go. It's one giant safety net, filled with rules and regulations and reasons to drive you insane.

In fact, being young in general sucks; you're just starting out in the world, ready to have new experiences, and the world keeps you from most of them.

Like crushes.

I mean, yeah, I get that he's seventeen and I'm only thirteen (fourteen in March), but that's only an age difference of almost four years. When we're older, that won't even matter. It does now, but it won't - I have to wait. Because I'm too young.

It sucks.

I sigh dejectedly and lean against the shelf of books, letting myself fall to the floor. It's only slightly comfortable because I'm sitting on my cloak, but I mostly use this place in the library for convenience.

Now this may sound weird, even, well, stalker-like, but I swear I'm not. I'm not like Roxanne; he doesn't give her the time of day, always tries to get away from her, and as mean as this may sound, given that she's my cousin and all, I'm extremely glad that he has no feelings for her of any kind. It gives me hope.

You never know, he could wait for me.

Well, if he even knew that I existed. I don't think he knows all that much about me, except that I'm Lucy's youngest cousin - Lucy is his best friend, along with a really crazy adrenaline junkie called Jackson. And they're all in Hufflepuff, whereas I am in Gryffindor, so sitting here, in the corner of the library where I have the perfect view of him working and don't have the risk of being seen, is pretty much all the time I get to have with him.

Skander, my best friend, often asks how I don't find this boring; it's actually very easy, especially when you consider the fact that I've been doing this since I started first year. He is far from dull; he pulls different faces depending on how frustrated he is, he moves his fingers along the desk like he's playing the piano when he's lost in thought, and sometimes he sings. That's my favorite thing, when he sings. It's very low, soft, so the librarian can't do anything about it; you have to really listen if you want to know what song he's singing. On the rare occasions, he'll make up his own lyrics, usually about what he's working on.

I think he's perfect. I just wish he would see me.

Well, figuratively speaking, of course. I want him to notice me, to talk to me, so that he can know how great we are and when we're older and I can be with him, it won't be a shock to everyone because it's something we'll all have just... known. You know?

He can't actually see me, though; he's blind. And I know he hates that and I wish I could help him, but he handles everything amazingly well and I like that he'll be someone who will get to know me on a deeper level, rather than basing his opinions on what everyone sees.

People think they know what they see, but they're wrong. No one knows me. Not in the way I want him to.

Ciaran Bartholomew James.

I feel like I'm the king of patience when it comes to this man.

He's not even my type, not that I really have a type. I think. Being thirteen and the more rational of my family members and all that, I'm aware that being thirteen is probably the time for experiences rather than types. It's hard to really know what you want. But I do know what I enjoy looking at and they're usually tall and hot as hell, with muscles in every place and, when I'm able to get a glimpse, a tattoo or two.

Like Emmett McQueen.

What? Just because I want Ciaran to love me doesn't mean I don't look.

And Ciaran... well, he's not like that - he's just under six foot, which is still quite tall, but he's gangly and stick thin and I'm pretty sure he'd rather die than mark his body with ink. Yet he's still the only one I want. Once you actually get him talking, his has a sharp tongue, a wicked sense of humor and a bit of a mean streak, which is right up my alley. Of course, you actually have to get him talking if you want to hear it. I'm lucky; from here, where no one can notice me, I can hear him talking to his friends. I wonder if my feelings for him would be different if I didn't know what he was like.

I hope not, but even I know that probably isn't true. Some people call me shallow and self-centered.

Let's not go there.

A snort from Ciaran breaks my concentration; a new friend has joined the little Hufflepuff group. Not only is this new member a Ravenclaw, but it is also another one of my cousins - Louis. From what I hear, Ciaran needed someone to help him around school when Jackson was in the hospital. Lucy got Louis and he just never left.

It makes me nervous, seeing them together. Louis is the only openly gay member of my family - since I'm still in the age of 'experiences', I figured they're less likely to believe me right now, so I haven't told them - and he seems very interested in Ciaran.

Everything sucks right now. I hate it.

Louis, with his weird aversion to saying no and his do-gooder ways that only hide his selfish needs to get what he wants, is probably better for Ciaran in the long run. He may be selfish, but he doesn't go about getting what he wants in wrong or immoral ways... like, say, stealing. Plus, he's in the same year and just a few months older than him.

Thankfully, Ciaran has never shown an interest in him either.

"Sitting in the corner again, Hugo?"

I look up to see Skander watching me with mild interest. You wouldn't think a Weasley's best friend would be a Dolohov, would you? Then again, I'm not a normal Weasley. And it's not like he participated in the war, just his uncle. I like his no nonsense attitude and his bluntness, along with his awesome ability to feel the world around him.

...Except now.

"So, who is he?" Skander asks for the millionth time. He's known I've had a crush forever, but his ability just let's him feel my, well, feelings not tell him who it is, and I've never told him. He is the only one who knows I'm gay, though.

It threatens to come out every day, my crush on Ciaran James, but I don't want his questions and his comments - he also knows my type and he, like everyone else, only sees Ciaran as the blind guy in the corner. The wallflower.

I don't want to explain my crush because I don't know how.

...Maybe I don't have to.

Call it a coincidence or luck or just good timing, but in that moment someone I can use stops in front to look for a book. He blocks my view of Ciaran, but for once I don't even care. He's good looking and closer to my type, we rarely talk and he's a year older so he'll never know, and he's very straight - with a girlfriend, I hear - so I can't have him anyway.

He's perfect.

"Mickey," I blurt out, making a quick second decision to go through with it.

Skander turns his back to check him out, looking incredulous when he faces me again. He waits for Mickey to leave before his voice gets a little louder.

"Michael Finnigan?!"

Okay, more than a little louder.

"It's the Irish accent, isn't it?" he demands to know. Oh, yeah, did I mention my love of accents? No. I love them.

Is Skander still talking?

"I mean, it can't be for anything else; he can't compete with you intellectually, he talks about sports way too much for you to make any real conversation and he's not that nice. He's actually a bit of an asshole."

"Bigger than me?"

Skander scoffs. "No one is a bigger asshole than you."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment," he mutters. I groan; when he strains his voice to keep from yelling, his Russian accent is a bit more pronounced.

I am sure he does it on purpose.

I feign offense. No, I don't; I am offended. "It's usually a compliment."

"Well, now I'm mad at you," Skander replies. "So, it's a bad thing."

"Fine." I shrug and let it go, pretend I'm looking away from him when I'm actually looking at Ciaran again. His tutor is leaving now, as is Lucy and Jackson. It's best not to argue with a Dolohov with special powers anyway.

I'm an asshole not an idiot.

"Don't fine me -" he starts to say, but it's quickly drowned out by the screaming going on inside my head.

Something terrible has happened; everything was fine and normal before the Halloween party, now everything has changed.

Louis is touching Ciaran's arm in a flirtatious way... and he's not pushing away.

How can this be happening?

My Ciaran, my... slightly insane devil masquerading as an angel is finally letting go and considering dating.

And he's becoming someone else's.



A/N: Uh oh. Poor Hugo. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you think. :)

Sam.


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