Snowbaz Oneshots

We've Got History

This was purely for fun haha. Enjoy some Watford antics and Talking Things Out.

Read as you see fit here- warnings for mild language, plus light Natasha/Turning sadness.

Simon

—

It starts with the worst history class group pairing in the history of our history class.

I don't know why our teacher thought that putting Dev, Niall, Baz, and I at a table together would be a good idea, but she did. We're doing a four-week mini-lesson on Normal history within our History of Magick class—the Mage's prerogative, staying close to the language and whatnot. I'm jiggling my knee under the table, Niall is doodling on his worksheet, Dev is glaring at the far wall, and Baz is holding forth about the topic we were assigned.

"It all branches from the Revolution of 1688," Baz asserts, folding his hands together on the desk.

"We were assigned the 1700s," I argue. I wasn't really listening in class—too busy worrying about six white hares, and the fact that Agatha broke up with me again two weeks ago—but I know that much.

"The whole country was divided after that," Baz continues, ignoring me. "Catholics and non-Catholics, conformists and nonconformists, rich and otherwise... The wealth was hugely unequally distributed, despite the appearance everyone wanted to put up."

Merlin, he's such a swot. Halfway in love with the sound of his own voice.

"Are you kidding me, Baz?" I groan.

He raises an eyebrow. "I simply think we should centre our presentation around the turbulence and infighting of the 1700s."

"You simply think—can you not lord your posh-ness and educated-ness over me for one second?"

He bats his eyes at me, droopy lashes included. "Educated-ness is not a word."

"You're still the worst! How do you even know all this shit?"

"Because he was there," Dev cuts in, smoothly. Surprised, I turn to my left, facing him and Niall. Baz's minions had sort of faded into the background when we were arguing.

"What are you talking about?" I growl. Dev shrugs casually.

"If Baz is a vampire like you say he is," he taunts, "he's immortal. He has to remember some of the highlights, right?"

"Dev," Niall says. I can't tell if it's a warning or an encouragement. Either way, it gets swept under all the other noises of the busy classroom.

I, for one, am at a loss. "There's no way Baz was alive in the 1700s," I retort, but across from me, Baz just smirks. Like he's won. "I mean..."

Baz is a vampire. He has to be! All the signs add up! Given that information, there's certainly the possibility that he's older than sixteen...

I lean across the table and squint at my roommate. He meets my eyes challengingly as Dev cackles in his seat, so positive he's getting away with the most clever prank of his weakly antagonistic adolescence.

He must be having me on. Baz looks sixteen. I know him. I know he's sixteen.

But I also know he's a vampire.

Christ, I don't know what to think.

"Take a picture, Snow, it'll last longer," Baz drawls. I shake my head and press my palms to the wood table. Our assignment is completely forgotten.