Summary: in which Zayn is a confused, ignorant Syltherin and Liam is a wide-eyed, muggleborn Hufflepuff out to change the world.
By: Unfortunate17.tumblr.com
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It’s the year that everyone’s gone out to play hero to save the Wizard World from the hands of He-who-must-not-be-named that constant, loyal Liam Payne, yellow and black tie knotted around his neck, finds himself watching the platform shoot past him as the Hogwarts Express pulls out the station.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to be here per say, but it definitely isn’t his first choice - what with his family out in open, muggle London and a target for more Death Eaters. He’d just much rather have stayed cooped up in their little suburban house and played hero for them rather than finish his seven years of schooling, which when the war properly broke out, wouldn’t hold much meaning anyway.
It seems everyone but him is out playing hero these days.
The day is gloomy with heavy clouds hanging overhead and drizzling rain cooling the window beneath his cheek. His hands shake as they smooth over his crisp new robes for the year. Tremble as he tightens his tie to perfection.
Because that’s who Liam Payne has been brought up to be - all hard lines of muscles, bulky, wide-set shoulders, and a good, average student that goes to his classes in the morning, does his homework in the evening, and goes to bed before ten-thirty at night.
He breathes carefully, steadily. In and out. In and out. Because rhythm is essential for balance and balance is essential for routine and routine is essential for perfection.
“Hey look it’s Payne.”
He flinches; beat broken, as the compartment door is slid open and two boys tumble in, wide, wicked grins set above their green and silver patches.
Liam glances up carefully and he’s met with hard, brown eyes, smooth skin and tousled hair. Zayn’s obviously the one who’s spoken and he has that unexplainable aura of cruelty clouded around his loose tie and un-tucked shirt.
“Mudblood Payne,” another boy, one whose name Liam has forgotten says, and it might have almost been a compliment if it wasn’t for the tone. He’s pale and athletic and Liam watches apathetically as he reaches forward and pulls his tie out of his robes, tightening the cloth around his neck.
He chokes at the abrupt pressure and Zayn lets out a whoop of rugged laughter, eyes crinkling into thick lash lines. And he’s stunning if Liam could say so himself but he burns the eyes - slender physique, thin wrists, and heartbreaking cheekbones. In fact, Liam remembers being eleven and watching him from across their first day of flying lessons and wishing that he could be as small and airy and filled with light the way Zayn was.
But Zayn’s pulling his wand out and Liam launches himself back in fear, hands flying to pull at his own still stuck in the sleeve of his robe.
“McCarthy,” Zayn hisses, “watch his hands, yeah?”
And the pale boy from before is twisting Liam’s hands together with one of his own as Zayn levels his death-stick in his face. Point blank range - Liam braces for whatever impact is to come because despite the Slytherin backdrop, it was well known that Zayn Malik was truly brilliant with spells, charms, enchantments, potions, and whatever else was taught in school.
Except there’s nothing and when Liam dares to look up, Zayn has one hand in his pocket, the other fisted loosely around his wand, hanging by his side, breathing heavily.
“Where are mum and dad, Liam?” His mouth curves upwards at the ends and his eyes glitter. Liam stays quiet, but Zayn doesn’t. “Still out there yeah? Well they won’t be for long.” He yanks on the edge of his tie again, pulling Liam close, “Because my father’s got a couple of special instructions for this weekend and it involves a visit to a little house at the edge of London.”
Liam pulls back, eyes averting to the window and he shivers at his reflection.
Suddenly, Zayn throws an abrupt punch to his jaw, sending Liam crashing into that reflection and he feels his temple crack, blood spilling hotly onto his cheekbones as his head blooms with pain.
“Fucking, mudblood. Think you’re so high and mighty, yeah?” And Zayn sounds half-crazed, hoarse, and worse than Liam has ever heard him before.
McCarthy eases back Zayn with a hand on his shoulder, glancing between the two of them uneasily, “Come on Malik,” he gives a light tug, “lets get out of here - can’t stand the filth. Don’t want detention over that do we?”
Shockingly Zayn falls into him and allows himself to be dragged out of the compartment, hands clenched white around his wand.
Liam steps forward at the last minute. “I don’t,” he says quietly and his eyes prick with tears. Zayn looks at him with murderous rage and Liam swallows heavily, “I don’t think I’m high and mighty.”
The blood streaks into his eyes so Liam’s not sure whether he really saw Zayn’s face crumble in agony or not.
Instead, he wipes back the hot, red liquid and tucks his tie back, neatly, into his uniform.
………
By the time they pull up to the castle, Liam’s managed to staunch the flow of blood and fix the cut with a simple healing charm. It’s dark out - so very, very dark and the castle doesn’t look quite as lit as it used to and Liam can almost reach out and touch the strange atmosphere that seems to cloud around the somber, returning students and the apprehension that trails the first years.
He was wrong, Liam muses sardonically, the war really had already begun. It just hadn’t gotten to him yet - and it would surely be here by the end of the year.
He gets into a carriage alone and his stomach swoops and clenches in horror because he can see the magnificent, black winged horses of death. It’s rumored that only few could because they symbolized a loss of innocence that was irreplaceable. Still, they’re beautiful in some twisted way and Liam watches in horrified fascination as the thestrals pull him along the path lit with floating lanterns towards the ominous sight that was Hogwarts: School or Witchcraft and Wizardry.
It’s a different sort of chill because Liam can’t hear the school choir singing in the distance like they’re supposed to be on the start of term and the air seems to have changed colors. (Though that might just be from the happiness and soul sucking, cloaked dementors that he can see patrolling the edges of the grounds near the Forbidden Forest.)
By the time he reaches the castle, Liam has to redo his tie twice and straighten his cloak because the breeze was harsher than he remembered. Needless to say, he’s happy to be inside those warm walls that he’s called home since the tender age of eleven when he was a bumbling, chubby fool with too large shoes and heavy books in his arms.
Except, this isn’t the Hogwarts of his childhood. In fact, Liam can barely recognize the Great Hall, what with all the emerald, Slytherin tapestries and the offensive slurs scratched into the tables and walls. (He sees mudblood and muggle-lovermultiple times - some times spelled to glow or sparkle). They’re centered mainly along the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables so Liam feels a bit fitting when he sits down only to find the word MUDBLOOD embedded into the wood directly in front of him.
The hall fills slowly, the student body thickening in size with a slow trickle, and unlike the times he remembers, there are no shouts of greetings or laughter ringing out as friends exchanged holiday anecdotes. No, this time there’s only a heavy sort of silence that seems to sit upon everyone and everything. Even the ghosts are silent, somberly lining up in an organized fashion along the back walls.
It chills and relaxes Liam all at once.
It feels like hours later when Snape sends a lit firecracker in the air that explodes with a bang in order to get everyone’s attention. He stands tall in his morbidly black robes, boots squeaking as he shuffles, a grimace painted on his face, “Welcome students. As you all have probably noticed by now, there are a few changes in this year’s staff and policies.” His eyes rove the room like a hawk, “First, muggle studies,” his voice drips with disdain, “is now a requirement.Hogwarts will be properly informed about those insolent pests once and for all. Second, all meetings of groups larger than three are hereby banned without permission. Third, disciplinary action will be up to your professors - nothing is out of order if they see it to be fit. And finally,” he lifts his head haughtily, “there will be no sorting this year. First years, you will be joining the Slytherin table for the rest of your years here. You can look to your elder peers for guidance.”
Liam takes one glance at the sour group and knows that guidance is the last thing they can expect from that lot.
Snape claps twice and the feast appears before their eyes, looking every bit as delicious as before, but Liam’s not hungry like he used to be. He glances back up to the teacher’s table only to find mostly new, sinister faces - death eaters for sure.
He swallows, checks the neatness of his tie, and somehow manages to shove a few mouthfuls of chicken down.
On the other side of the hall, Liam can see Zayn Malik, sitting next to the pale boy on the train - McCarthy. But this year, he’s not playing pranks on the first years or trying to toss curses at members of the other houses. Instead he has his head nearly on the table, plate pushed away from him with a haunted look in his eyes as McCarthy says something furiously in his ear.
He looks up sharply, catching Liam’s eyes. Liam stops breathing, watching as Zayn’s lip curls upward in disdain and disgust.
Liam wants to know what happened to this boy, but he’s never been much more than an observer. So he drops his eyes and traces the smooth patterns in the wood, fingers smoothing his tie, breathing in and out, in and out.
In and out.
………
Later that night, once Liam’s changed into ratty pajama bottoms and a t-shirt from his old muggle school, he glances around at the neatness that his side of the dormitory is. Every little nook and cranny is clean - almost spell-cleaned, with all of his things in their proper place. He’s even made sure to make his bed, lining up the yellow and black sheets into a perfect, striped pattern.
But, no matter how neat and orderly everything is, Liam can’t make himself fall asleep that night - not with the curtains of his four-poster bed pushing into him on all sides and his dorm mates’ snores grating his ears. Liam sometimes loathes coming back - preferring, to some extent, the isolation the summer brings. So he ends up neatly dragging all the blankets off his bed and with the pillow in his other hand, he makes his way down to the common room.
The common room is still round and earthy with comforting paintings of Helga Hufflepuff surrounded by little children hung up along the walls.
He makes himself comfortable in a round armchair and eventually falls asleep to the rhythmic crackling of the fireplace.
He reasons just before he drifts off that he does like people. Just doesn’t like speaking to them is all.
………
The first day of term is almost exactly as Liam remembers it is - the first part is at least.
Liam’s nudged awake by a young, kind looking boy who tells him that he’s going to be late if he doesn’t get a move-on. Hufflepuff is good in this way - good for Liam - nobody questions why he was in the common room to begin with and largely leaves him to himself. (He hopes that’s not because they don’t care).
He trips up the stairs in his sleepy state and manages to pull together his uniform, resolving to have a bath when he finished his classes, and ran a comb through his boyish hair. Despite everything, his eyes were hollowed in and he looks gaunt even though he spent a summer playing footie with his muggle mates.
Liam wonders if its just Hogwarts that makes him like this; or if it’s just this year in particular.
He makes his way down to his first lesson of the day - double Muggle Studies with the Carrow twins (who Liam knows are both convicted death eaters). His heart sinks when he finds the line of students outside the class - some with yellow and black ties like himself and others with green and silver ties and their matching smirks to boot.
His eyes find Zayn at the front; leaning against the wall with this head tipped back and eyes closed. Liam frowns, wondering whether he was asleep standing up.
The door bangs open, making Liam jump.
Only one of the Carrows seems to be present and he’s the thin, sickly-looking, bald one with a sleazy smile. “In ya go, fuckers.” He opens the door wide and the students (Slytherin and Hufflepuff alike) move hesitantly to take their seats.
Liam ends up midway from the front, squeezed between a Slytherin girl who turns up her nose at the sight of him and a scrawny, cowering Hufflepuff boy who Liam has trouble believing is actually a seventh year. No wonder the rest of the world thought their house was a group of sniveling cowards.
“Muggles,” Carrow begins, twirling his wand menacingly in his hands, “are like rodents. They eat rot, multiply like the Weasleys, and carry diseases they pass on to Mudbloods.” There’s a smattering of laughter from the Slytherins and Carrow looks extremely pleased with himself. “Today, we’ll learn how to prevent us wizards from catching these diseases.” His eyes seem to fix on Liam, “Of course only usreal wizards will be able to do so.”
He goes on to break the class up into sections with a wave of his hands - Liam ends up alone - and makes them practice the Patronus. (Liam refrains from stating that the Patronus is used to ward off evil, though he supposes that Mudbloods must be the new evil now).
The thing is, in order to cast the charm, Liam needs to fill himself with a memory so happy, so pure, that it nearly drugs him. It doesn’t take much, just the thought of his mum’s bright smile, eyes watching as a young, chubby Liam waded through the waters of the beach, desperately trying to keep up with his older sister with no avail.
The Patronus blasts through his wand - silver and large in the shape of a lion. Everyone turns to stare and Carrow rounds on him.
“How’d you do that, you little shit?”
Liam dispels the charm, lowering his wand arm, “I don’t know.”
Carrow snorts and sends a hex his way, catching Liam on the arm and singeing his arm through his robes. Carrow turns to Zayn and McCarthy in the far corner of the room, “Show the mudblood how it’s done, Malik.”
Zayn nods curtly and steps forward. Liam can’t help but feel that he might actually be shaking. He also can’t help but notice that Zayn’s lost an awful lot of weight - not that he paid attention to his weight before. But it was difficult to ignore the way his cheeks looked even worse, more hollowed and dead than before, arms almost spindly with breakable wrists.
Zayn screws his eyes and tips his head forward, hair tumbling onto his forehead as he thinks. And Liam wishes he could crawl inside his brain at that moment - just to see what made Zayn Malik unexplainably happy.
Except when Zayn actually does wave his wand, nothing happens. There’s no silver burst of energy or any form of any animal really - just a feeble gust of air that distinguishes lightly. Carrow looks furious, but it’s nothing like the way Zayn looks. Zayn’s face scrunches in disappointment and hardens into a mask of self-loathing that Liam wishes he could understand.
“Don’t play around Malik,” Carrow spits, beady eyes flashing fire.
” ‘m not,” Zayn mumbles quietly, “not playing around.”
Carrow pulls out his own wand in frustration, “Yes you are, you little shit. You turning into one of them muggle lovers too, Malik? What would your father say huh? What would he say to that Malik?”
The rest of the class has fallen completely silent - mostly from fear and Liam can’t help but take another step backwards in an effort to blend into the walls.
Carrow fists a hand into Zayn’s collar and tosses him into the center of the room, “Fucking teach you a lesson.” And Liam knows Zayn could refuse - could dig his heels into the ground and turn his wand on Carrow, but he lets himself be pulled as if he were weightless and tossed around like a ragdoll.
“Crucio,” Carrow mutters, voice vicious and filled with hate.
The thing is, Liam’s studied this curse - it’s forbidden and one usage is enough to send someone into Azkaban for the rest of their lives - locked up to never be seen again. Even his past professors had refused to give them specifics about performing them and he’s never even learned the wand movements, much less learned what it looked like in person. And seeing it now, Liam can completely see why it’s such a serious offense.
It’s a torture curse - that much is obvious.
Zayn jerks for a moment before he collapses on the ground all pureblood pride gone as he screams in a voice that has Liam wanting to just make it stop. He convulses rapidly, face a mask of agony that rips through the very fabric of Hogwarts’ existence- because this is what it’s come down to. This is what the school has been reduced to.
And Liam can almost see the knives carving into Zayn’s skin, the needles pricking out from ever pore as Zayn scrabbles helplessly at the floor, fingernails breaking in the process.
Out of the corner of his eyes he sees McCarthy duck out of the classroom, green at the edges.
Carrow lifts the spell and for one blessed moment, it’s silent.
“Had enough Malik?”
Zayn nods, wiping his tears.
“Ready to show us that Patronus?”
Zayn shakes his head.
Carrow puts the spell back down and Liam claps both his hands over his ears and turns towards the walls in an effort to be blind and deaf to what’s happening behind him.
It’s only twenty minutes later that one of the students takes Zayn’s limp form down to the infirmary that he does turn back to face the rest of the class, still huddled in their little makeshift circle.
He catches sight of the blood on the floor, probably from Zayn scratching at his own skin, and he can’t help but think that if he were to bleed on the floor, his blood would look exactly the same.
………
Liam can’t sleep that night, the snores and deep breathing of his peers too loud to take. Not even the common room can dispel his fears.
He spends the night with his blanket clutched in his fingers, eyes unseeing in the dark with the movie of Zayn’s body crippling in his eyes and his screams ringing in Liam’s ears.
He breathes, then, because rhythm is essential for balance and balance is essential for routine and routine is essential for perfection. In and out. In and out.
In and out.
………
Zayn’s not in Muggle Studies the next day. In fact, he’s not in any of his classes. Or at least Liam assumes so because McCarthy sits by himself at the Slytherin for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
This is, in some ways, sort of a relief because now Liam can abandon his pretense of sleep and roam the castle at night without the fear of Zayn cornering him in some dark hallway (besides, he hasn’t seen Filch all year). It’s a bit of an irrational fear Liam knows because they’re well beyond boyhood rivalries now. Zayn’s not going to try and press him into a corner to hex him like he attempted to in second year. If that were to happen now then Liam knows that he should fear for his life instead of jelly legs or frozen tongues.
He goes to the library but Liam’s never been big on reading. He just likes the way the room looks in the dark, especially with the moonlight streaming through the large windows, playing with the shadows of the bookshelves.
And he’s looking for some time alone.
Except, when he opens the heavy double door as quietly as he possibly can, Liam finds somebody else in the seat directly across the door in front of the History of Magic section.
Liam nearly scrabbles back in shock when the boy turns around, moonlight illuminating his blond hair and pale features.
“Payne,” McCarthy says quietly, tipping his head at Liam, and he stands up with a book tucked under his arms. Liam can barely discern the words Goblin Banking Systems down the spine before McCarthy slides the book into his bag and slings the strap over his shoulder.
Liam swallows dryly, “McCarthy.” He rubs his palms on his robes to remove the sweat and grips his want - flight or fight setting in.
But before he can pull his wand out, McCarthy whips a spell at the door and it slams shut behind him with a boom. Liam shivers in shock - especially when McCarthy begins to edge closer.
“What did you say to Zayn,” he whispers menacingly and Liam gapes at him.
“Nothing,” his voice comes out higher than he would have liked, “I didn’t say anything to him.”
McCarthy snorts and points his wand at Liam with clear intent, “We can smellMudbloods you know - especially when they’re lying.”
Liam pulls discretely at the door handles with no avail. They’re charmed shut so he tries to reach for his want instead. But the thing is - Liam doesn’t do these things. He’s an observer - a bystander. He doesn’t set out to make differences. He leaves that up to the heroes.
Unsurprisingly, McCarthy is much, much faster, slamming Liam against the door with one hand fisted in at the top of his sleep shirt. Liam hears his wand clatter away.
“What. Did you. Say. To Zayn?”
Liam shakes his head rapidly and clenches his hand, “Nothing. I - nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
And whenever he’ll look back on this moment, Liam will swear he didn’t know what hit him. Because one minutes McCarthy as him against the door and the next he’s on the floor, withering in a kind of pain he’s only ever seen on Zayn.
McCarthy pulls back and he looks a little ill, “Still won’t tell me?”
Liam gasps, his joints flaring up immediately. His head is spinning and he can feel the sick building in his mouth. He swallows back and rests his head against the floor.
“I said nothing,” he says desperately. Because anything, anything to avoid that pain again.
McCarthy puts him under again and Liam feels a hundred bee stingers tearing at every vein in his body as his bones break and mend all at once. But just as he’s nearly blacking out, world blurring under what he makes out to be someone’s distinctive scream, McCarthy lifts his wand.
And suddenly, Liam’s jerked back awake and knows now that this might actually be worse. This constant curse and no-curse because it keeps Liam effectively conscious throughout the session and ensures that he doesn’t get a moment’s respite from the pain.
“I -I. Please,” Liam mutters when he sees McCarthy’s wand leveled in his face.
“Tell me what you said.”
Liam shudders, “I really, really didn’t say anything. I promise.”
There’s a moment of silence before Liam feels long, spindly fingers turn his face and then his vision is filled with the pale, blond boy who honestly seems like such a contrast to Zayn in every way possible.
McCarthy finally jerks back, breathing heavily, and he finally seems to believe Liam, “Get out of my sight, Payne. Or I swear I’ll kill you.”
Liam scrambles to his feet and his joints squeak in protest, all his nerve ending on fires from the torture.
But before he slams the door, he sees McCarthy fall in on himself with a calculating expression on his face.
………
Liam spends another night in the common room, this time lying back on the cushion, gritting his teeth at the pain buzzing through his body, eyes fixed on the dark ceiling faintly illuminated by the crackling fire.
He wishes Zayn could see him bleed.
………
The next week, it’s announced that Quidditch season would commence as always and Liam nearly chokes himself on the horror of trying out for the team in the shape that’s currently in after a lazy summer in the suburbs of muggle London.
Except no matter how little he eats or how much time he spends out running around the pitch, there’s just no possible way he’s going to bulk up in time for the season. Because honestly, Liam’s not one of those guys that can get into shape fast. He’s worked for years without end to even be moderately happy with his body. Because there’s a part of him that can’t shake the past.
You see, Liam remembers being three and round and childish, with sticky fingers and cool grass beneath his bare feet. He remembers his mother and her smile, his father and his laughter, as he waddled under the bright afternoon sunshine in their pocket back yard.
Karen used to kiss his fleshy cheeks and tell him that he was the most beautiful baby boy she’d ever had the pleasure of laying her eyes on.
By the time he was seven or eight, Liam had thinned out considerably but his stomach still poked out over the edge of his trousers and his chin dimpled adorably. Except it wasn’t adorable and kids at school would take his snacks during breaks and claim that he’d eaten enough already. And you don’t need to eat anymore, Liam.
And he would come home in tears, as Karen would wrap her arms around him and shush him. You’re perfect, Liam. You’re not fat, sweetheart.
Mostly he remembers being eight years old, eyes bright with wonder, and thinking why can’t I both, mum?
But Liam doesn’t think that anymore. He understands that being fat meant being less than everyone else and deserving less than everyone else because it meant that he wasn’t taking care of himself. It meant he was making poor choices. (Even though, out of desperation, Liam had literally eaten nothing but boiled cabbage and watermelon for a month before caving). His mum simply sat him down one day during the holidays and told him that some people just had a tendency for weight -they carry their weight differently Liam, it’s body type sweetheart, it’s not a reflection of you Liam, and more irrational words that ended up meaning nothing.
Because Liam had found a way - when he’d come home, fifteen and bronzed by the summer sun right after his fifth year, his mum had wrapped her arms around his broadening shoulders and told him just how proud she was of him. There’s been no looking back since then.
See, most students needed at least four to five months to properly get into shape for Quidditch season - six if they were like Liam.
But Liam could do it in forty-eight hours.
………
It’s been exactly one week since Zayn’s been seen around the school at all and Liam’s a bit shocked at how much easier his days are - and how lonely. It’s never really occurred to him and even though they were harsh and cruel - Zayn’s words were really the only words he heard addressed to him. Also, McCarthy seems more menacing without Zayn around, almost as if Zayn reeled him in somehow.
His sleeping pattern’s been thrown off completely and it’s lucky if he gets three to four hours a night. The messier the dorm gets through term - the less Liam seems to be able to breathe no matter how clean his little corner is. And Liam sometimes feels a little bad because he can see the looks the other seventh year boys throw at his corner, the word ‘freak’ running through their mouths, poorly disguised by a whisper.
Except now, he avoids the library like the plague at night, choosing instead to pop in during lunch periods to pick up whatever he needed for an assignment. But it’s not the same - it’s also stupid because it’s not as if Liam really reads in the library.
On Tuesday, he flits around the bookshelves, finds the book in the Magical Charms & Hexes section, and slips it into his bag to avoid checking it out with Madam Pince. And he walks out the door. The first time he’d done it, his heart had hammered to no end, fearing the increased magical security and fully conscious that he’d probably get in a lot of trouble for taking a book out of the library without proper permission. Except nothing happens and Liam walks out with the book in his bag. He figures it’s alright because it’s not as if he plans to keep the book.
He sets the book down on his bed and spells his curtains closed, not wanting any unwanted visitors. Beauty Charms: The Collection.
The things is, the book is for study and theory - he knows that what he’s doing is in fact dangerous because nobody really knows the side effects of long term usage and charms gone wrong can range from mutilation to poisoning to, in serious cases, death.
But to Liam, it’s become a crutch. He’s never had any sort of addiction before and he figures that since this one is voluntary, it’s different. Besides he’s done it for two years now and he’s not about to fuck everything up now by quitting.
He finds the spell quickly - one that will melt away any excess body fat and turn all the necessary places on his body back to the muscle he wants it to be. It takes five minutes to perform and it’s a fairly complicated hex. But Liam’s had practice and knows that it always leaves him drained right after.
Except the fatigue has never been quite this strong - his eyes droop instantly with sleep and his hands shake even as he shoves the book aside. He can feel his muscles knotting into place as his body starts to feel extremely warm.
He literally falls onto his pillow and Liam’s dead to the world in under a minute.
………
“Thought you were dead, mate.”
Liam blinks at his dorm-mate (one whose name he doesn’t actually know) in confusion.
The boy pulls off his yellow Quidditch robes and puts them back in his trunk, “Yeah, you’ve been out for like two days now. Thought you’d show up for Quidditch try-outs at least. But your curtains were charmed shut.”
Liam swallows back the lump in his throat, “Quidditch try-outs?”
“Yeah,” he throws Liam a look, “Quidditch try-outs - today.” He pauses, giving Liam a once-over, “You ok, mate?”
Liam nods, holding back his nausea, “Yeah. Fine.” His voice is choked and the boy throws him one last strange look before he disappears through the door - probably to the bathroom.
Liam flops back on the bed and then notices that doing so musses the bedcovers and sheets that are already soaked with sweat.
He spends the rest of the night cleaning everything in sight to stop the shaking in his hands.
………
He makes his way down to muggle-studies very slowly the next day, dreading whatever that’s coming because he can never expect anything good in his world anyway.
Zayn’s in class today and Liam marvels at how much a person can change in two days. Liam’s noticed how the slight fat in his stomach’s instantly been transformed into hard muscle, exactly the way he likes it - but he’d taken a potion. And in some ways, it looks almost like Zayn’s taken one too because the shadows under his cheekbones seem even more prominent than ever and Liam thinks that he could actually snap Zayn’s wrist in two with a twist of his hand if he so wished.
They end up practicing defensive spells to stop the spread of muggle diseases. Liam once again doesn’t point out the fact that the spell is actually meant to be used against dark magic.
This spell isn’t as easy as the Patronus, in fact Liam has a lot of trouble with the complicated wand movements and it doesn’t help that his arms feel excessively heavy this morning. Whatever it is, he can’t perform the spell and nothing escapes his wand but a few wisps of blue light.
Carrow bellows into laughter, “Can’t do it, right, mudblood?” He looks gleeful, “That’s because it’s meant to be used against you, you fucker.” He points his wand at Liam and Liam braces himself against the wall because he’s no good at doing anything - much better at just observing, but all that follows is a disarming spell. His wand flies into Carrow’s hand who then proceeds to toss it to the other side of the classroom.
“Malik,” Carrow snaps his fingers, “show us how it’s done - the right way this time, yeah?”
Zayn steps forward and he looks much more determined and confident than the last time Liam saw him in class. He nods, raises his wand, and the next second, Liam’s head cracks against he wall with a burst of energy because Zayn’s spell was fucking powerful.
He lifts his hand gingerly and his fingers come away red and wet. There’s a smattering of laughter that sounds more forced than anything from around the room, but Liam ignores it and gingerly rubs his blood between his thumb and forefinger.
Carrow ruffles Zayn’s hair, “Nice job, lad.” He smiles fondly down at him but Zayn’s eyes are trained on Liam’s fingers covered in the red, red blood that looks so much likes his own.
………
“There you go sweetheart, good as new.” Madam Pomfrey pats Liam’s shoulder as he sits up on the bed, rubbing his hand over his sore head. “There’s going to be a sting for a few days but nothing drastic. Some basic pain killing charms should take care of them.”
“Thanks,” Liam mumbles. His mouth feels like sandpaper and he moves for the door.
But Pomfrey calls him back, “Liam. There is something else I want to talk to you about.”
Liam turns back around and winces at her pitying expression.
“Liam -” she hesitates, “when I healed your head-wound, I couldn’t help but notice,” she flushes, wringing her hands, “that you had quite a bit of spell work already in your system. Have you been - been taking Beauty Charms, Liam?”
Liam opens his mouth in shock but Pomfrey steps forward and lays a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I’m not saying you are, honey. But there’s something in your bloodstream.” But one look in her eyes tells Liam exactly what she thinks - and knows.
Liam takes a shuddering grip on his life. “I missed Quidditch try-outs,” he whispers and Madame Pomfrey’s eyes widen with understanding.
“Come here Liam,” she mutters and before Liam can move at all, wraps him in a tight hug, crushing him in the process. His neatly pressed robes are getting ruinedbut Liam, for some odd reason can’t bring himself to care all that much. “Listen here Liam - you don’t have to do this alone, alright. You can talk to anyone ok - Anyone at all. Even me if you want.”
But Liam shakes his head, “I’m no good at talking to people.”
She tips his chin up even though she’s shorter than he is and smiles widely, crows feet appearing near her eyes, “I think you’ll find that you’re amazing at talking. And you don’t have to talk to someone in specific. There are more ways to be heard than just talking.”
And something burns in the back of Liam’s mind.
………
The first time he’s does it, he’s scared out of his mind of being caught, snitched on, and tortured again. Because honestly, there isn’t much more of that he can take and he’s just been lucky enough not to run into McCarthy again.
He sets up in an abandoned, crumbling hallway and uses a voice altering spell because if there’s one thing that’s important in this mad scheme of his - it’s staying anonymous.
He clears his throat and begins to talk into the golden orb he’s managed to produce. Once he’s finished he just has to swish his wand twice and the orb will travel the front of every major area in the school - common rooms, the Great Hall, and even some classrooms (he has a certain Muggle Studies one especially in mind).
He clears his throat, before beginning what turns out to be the next chapter of his life.
“Hello. Um - I’m. Well I’m a mudblood is what I am. Both my parents are muggles and they live in muggle London. But you probably already knew that. Anyway I just wanted to tell you guys a story. On August 28th in 1963, thousands of people walked in a demonstration in the muggle world in America. They were people of African descent who were horribly discriminated against because of the color of their skin. Well - so this man who led the protest - his name was Martin Luther King Jr. And he gave this great speech that day - called it “I Have A Dream,” and in it he talked about how people were hated because of the color of their skin and how the entire muggle world despised a group of people who we - I mean - you in the Wizarding World wouldn’t ever think were anything less. Wizards of all races have always been equal. I - mean. Well. That’s all really. I just thought you guys would want to- no should know. Ok. Well I’m not going to give my name out but…here’s to bravery.”
Liam shuts off the recording and spells on a name and completes the orb, sending it away with two swishes of his wand.
The next day, the entirety of Hogwarts wakes up to golden orbs largely labeled with #COURAGE.
………
Carrow throws his head back and laughs loudly at the students huddled outside his classroom, “Last night’s petty demonstration doesn’t mean a thing, mark my words. The culprit will be caught and he will be severely punished.”
He eyes the classroom with distaste, “If any of you have any information it goes directly to the headmaster,” sinister smile, “or, if you prefer, to me. We’ll have the mudblood dealt with appropriately, won’t we?”
He orders the class inside and as he’s walking Liam hears the hushed conversation of he didn’t even say anything important, mate. Waste of a bloody good idea, and swallows heavily. There had been a message behind his seemingly meaningless rambling but it unfortunately seems to have been lost. But if there’s one thing Liam is - out of the observer, pessimist, quiet - he’s persistent.
Because he knows, especially catching the #courage written into the wrists of some of the Hufflepuffs in the class, that something is taking shape. Something bigger than he probably had meant to happen.
He doesn’t really know what it is though.
………
He doesn’t expect to get caught so soon.
But here he is, golden orb opened directly in front of him, muttering things about an Muggle Olympian runner who lost her foot growing up, when - of all people - Zayn had turned the corner and caught him red handed.
Zayn’s eyes narrow as they dart between him and the orb. Liam’s frozen in place, unable to even diffuse the orb.
“It was you?” And suddenly Zayn begins to laugh, “Of course it was you, Payne. Who else could it have fucking been? Nobody else could possibly have come up with something as bloody stupid.”
Liam swallows, “Yeah - that’s me. Mudbloods are stupid.”
Something flashes in Zayn’s eyes, “Shut the hell up.”
But Liam looks up, takes in the dark circles under Zayn’s eyes, the deathly pallor of his skin, the way his wrist bones resemble doorknobs, “Why? It’s the truth.” His voice is still very quite though - speaking in and of itself is very, very new to Liam.
“Of course it is, I fucking know that,” Zayn runs a hand through his hair, “who else could possibly be stupid enough to hate people for their skin color.” And Liam understands that this must be shockingly baffling for him because the wizarding world works in very different ways than the muggle world. Maybe that’s why he feels like such an outsider.
“Yeah,” Liam replies hoarsely, “imagine that. Hating someone for something they were born with.”
The silence is deafening and for a moment Liam swears that both of their hearts stop.
Zayn slams his fist into the wall and he’s shaking all over, teeth clattering, “You did this on purpose didn’t you, you son of a bitch.” He takes a step back, “Fuck you Payne, fuck you straight to hell.”
Liam nods quietly, “Ok.”
Zayn looks at him once with haunted eyes before disappearing down the corridor, nearly tripping in his rush to get out.
………
The next day, Liam stays in bed, half expecting to be dragged down to be tortured by Carrow. Last night, after Zayn had left, he’d finished up his podcast about the weak, disabled Olympic Runner who went off to win a gold medal and become the fastest woman alive, before swallowing back the fear and accepting his fate. Because, really, there was no way in hell Zayn was going to let him get away with this.
When, by noon, nothing happens, he cautiously makes his way down to the empty common room - all the students down either in the Great Hall for lunch or off to classes. But when he reaches the mouth of the stairs, Zayn’s sitting at the edge of one of the armchairs, gingerly avoiding touching anymore of it than he possibly had to.
“Malik,” Liam mumbles, bowing his head, “what’re you doing here?” He glances wildly around the common room, “How did you get in here?”
Zayn holds up the tie around his neck, “Slytherin,” he says as if that’s an explanation and Liam nods as if he understands.
There’s a moment of silence in which Liam tries to edge past him.
“Wait,” Zayn says loudly, “I just. I need to talk to you, yeah.”
Liam turns around slowly, “Does that involve you punching me?”
Zayn looks down at his bony fingers and softly shakes his head.
“Torturing me?”
At that, Zayn looks up, eyes narrowing to fine lash lines, “Who tortured you?”
“McCarthy.”
Zayn blinks, “Joseph? Why?”
Liam shies away because he’s already been bolder in the last week than he has in his whole life. And talking to Zayn Malik in the Hufflepuff Common Room just about takes the cake, “Apparently I said something to you - something I shouldn’t have.”
Zayn’s eyes widen in realization, “Fuck,” he mutters, “ok - that wasn’t about you. That was - something else entirely, yeah. Don’t I - sorry.”
And Liam’s really going to have heart attack here, “Ok?”
Zayn glances away from him, fixing his eyes on the stairway, “Can we talk, Payne? For a minute?”
Liam takes a seat quietly, “Don’t know why you’d want to, but ok.”
Zayn lets out a frustrating breath, “I just. What happened last night was - I thought a lot about what you said. And.” He fixes his eyes on Liam and his voice drops to a whisper, “I need help, Liam.”
Liam’s palms sweat and he wipes them on his robes.
Zayn takes a deep breath and lifts up the sleeve of his robe and on his arm, in plain sight for the world to see, is the dark mark.
Liam flinches but Zayn shakes his head and he looks horrified at himself, “They wanted me to take the oath,” his voice cracks, “my father - he. And I did. And I don’t want to.”
Liam eyes the mark hesitantly. “I don’t really know how to help you with that.” Because Liam doesn’t do anything - he stands by and watches.
Zayn smiles ruefully, “I know - just wanted to tell you, Liam.” He pulls his sleeve down again in a hurry, almost as if he’s embarrassed.
“Why me?” Liam mumbles, “why not anybody else? One of your house mates?”
“Who?” Zayn’s mouth quirks up painfully, “You mean Joseph?”
Liam shrugs, hands shaking.
“And why not you, Liam?”
Liam’s mouth goes dry, “You hate me.”
Zayn pulls at the couch, not meeting his eyes. When he does, there’s a strange look in his eyes, “It’d be unfair for me to hate you, Payne. It really would.”
And Liam really doesn’t know what Zayn is talking about so he pulls at his tie, straightening it to perfection and arranges his robes so they pleat neatly over his knees. Zayn watches the movement quietly before he catches Liam’s eyes once more and stands.
“Nice talking to you,” he says and the common room door bangs closed behind him.
Liam wonders what in hell had just happened.
………
Quidditch season begins and leaves Liam doubled over, gasping for breath in pain when he realizes the extent of his mistake. He wants to steal a broom, tell the captain just how much he’d done to get a chance to be up there, show him how good he was.
Instead, he sits in the stand and watches them practice. The team laughs cheerfully as they ready themselves for their match against Ravenclaw. It’s the only group activity allowed at Hogwarts - security especially tightening since Liam had begun broadcasting nearly every night. Last night, he’d told a story about the Cuban Missile Crisis and how two countries, both wanting revenge, had nearly destroyed the Muggle world with one wrong move. He wonders if his stories even had an impact - he’d like to believe so especially since Carrow had walked passed the Great Hall one morning to find #courage spelled onto the great, double doors.
Liam can do all that, yet everything he’s worked for, all the energy-sucking Beauty Enchantments he’s performed and he’s on the bleachers, on the outside looking in.
It’s a practice, so there aren’t that many people out here - just a few smattering Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs along the outer edge of the field. He’s the only one up in the stands.
Or at least, he was, until he’s shoved hard - head flying to smack into the seat in front of him, nose cracking instantly.
“School property isn’t for Mudbloods.” And the voice is sneered and haughty.
Liam turns around into the smirking face of Joseph McCarthy and to his side, Zayn, who looks paler and smaller than ever in his huge green and silver winter coat.
Liam opens his mouth to - speak? Scream? He doesn’t really know, but he doesn’t get the chance because there’s another punch sent reeling into his mouth and he sputters backwards, coughing up blood.
Zayn flinches at the sound but he stays silent.
Liam brings the edge of his robes to cover the bleeding in his nose and locks his gaze with Zayn. Zayn looks away and heaves a sigh.
“Come on Joseph,” Zayn eases him back, “lets get out of here - can’t stand the filth. Don’t want detention over that do we?”
And Liam suddenly wants to laugh because doesn’t life always come full circle.
But Joseph doesn’t fall back into Zayn the way Zayn had into him on the train. Instead he angrily twists away from him and turns grips Liam’s robes tightly, pulling his wand out to point into Liam’s face, “Don’t move,” he hisses and Liam’s hand, moving it’s way to his own wand, stops cold.
Zayn looks wildly between the two, “Ease up, mate - it’s. Let’s just go, yeah?”
But Jospeh’s eyes look crazed and Liam can feel his glare burning a hole through his head the way his nose is currently pulsing with pain, “Why not, Zayn? He’s right here, completely defenseless and you’re going to walk away.” He snorts, “Maybe you’re not up to be Death Eater after all - because that’s all you’ve ever been yeah. A fucking disappointment. To me, to your father, to your family.”
Zayn twitches and his hands grip his wands with anger - but Liam can see that his eyes are wounded.
McCarthy snorts and slams Liam into the seat, “You fucking, low-life halfblood.”
And Zayn snaps.
He lunges forward, wrestling the wand out of McCarthy’s grip and presses him into the ground, wand at his throat. The word is at his lips, forming, shaping the Crucioas Joseph looks up at him with wild animal eyes.
“Zayn,” and Liam didn’t even know he could speak with that much blood clogging his airway. His speech his thick and heavy to be fair, “Zayn, don’t.”
And shockingly, stunningly, Zayn eases back, breathing heavily as he looks down at Joseph with hard eyes. “Get out of my sight,” he spits, “or I swear I’ll kill you.”
Joseph reaches for his wand that’s still in Zayn’s left hand but Zayn brings it up before his face and snaps it - breaking it into two with a loud crack.
Joseph flinches, looks from the broken wand to Liam, and scrambles to his feet, hands up, “Yeah alright Zayn - but if you’re father asks about you I’m going to tell him that you’ve been walking around with a Mudblood. And fucking playing hero for them too. Mark my words - I’m going to -“
This time, Liam’s the one that throws the hex, catching the distracted McCarthy with a full body-bind curse and watching as he freezes and falls back onto the bleachers with a loud thud.
Liam lets out a breath, wand still raised.
Zayn blinks at him and Liam flushes, shoving the wand in his pockets and tries to staunch the bleeding on his nose. He moves hastily past Zayn but Zayn catches his arm, flinching as he does so.
“Wait -” Zayn swallows and raises his wand, “Here - I can. I can fix that.”
Liam drops his arms and Zayn searches his eyes for a moment before he mutters something under his breath as Liam’s nose cracks into place. He hisses and rubs the blood off, pressing his fingers against the now smooth bone. “Thanks.”
But Zayn doesn’t reply, eyes fixed on the blood on Liam’s face. He puts shaky finger up to Liam’s nose and pulls back, red blood coating the tip. He looks down at it, up at Liam, and blinks. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely, “yeah.”
Liam nods and makes to move out of the way but his knees give out - fatigue hitting his body like no other. He moves his mouth but his tongue feels like it’s about a million pounds too heavy.
Zayn steps back hesitantly, “Liam?” But his voice sounds a little too far away considering he’s about three feet from where Liam is standing.
The last thing Liam remembers before his vision blurs is that maybe he really should just shut up and watch rather than try to play hero where he doesn’t have the right to.
………
He wakes up to the quiet of the infirmary and Zayn sitting beside him reading the book that Liam remember McCarthy carrying that night in the library.
He coughs lightly and tries to sit up and Zayn swivels his eyes to him, hands fidgeting as he sets down the book to take him in.
Liam looks up at him, trying to make words in his muddled state, “How long - long was I out?”
Zayn shrugs, “A couple hours.” He glances out the window at the darkened sky, “Missed dinner though.”
Liam nods but quickly stops because it makes his head spin, “What - What’re you doing here.”
Zayn looks away then, all confidence gone, “Thanks,” he mumbles and Liam thinks it’s for hexing McCarthy until he continues, “for - not letting me. For stopping me.” He looks back at him, assessing, biting his bottom lip.
Liam nods and the two of them fall silent.
Zayn stands and Liam thinks he’s going to leave but, “I’m a halfblood.” It’s whispered, ashamed and filled with self-loathing. “Found out last summer - my dad had a fling with a muggle before I was born.” He looks pained, “All my sisters are pure though - I’m the only half-breed in my family.”
Liam’s honestly a bit confused as to why Zayn is telling him this because really, since when were they on such good terms?
“My dad’s trying to cover it up though - getting me to join up and all - but everybody knows.”
He shudders, “Wasn’t even going to be a Slytherin - the sorting hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw so I. I begged. Was a hatstall actually. Must’ve asked the blasted thing about twenty times before it agreed and put me in the damn house.” He looks rueful for a minute, “Should’ve seen my dad’s reaction to that.”
Liam blinks, “Why are you telling me this?”
Zayn tips his head back and stares up at the ceiling, “Figured you’d understand is all.”
“I don’t,” Liam says, shaking his head.
Zayn nods but sits back down on his chair. He stares at his hands for a moment before looking back up, “Nurse said you’ve been taking Beauty Charms. Said it’s why you passed out on me - apparently healing charms, exhaustion, and beauty charms aren’t the best combination.”
Liam flushes but Zayn continues, eying him critically, “Why do you take beauty charms, Payne?”
“Liam.”
Zayn furrows his brow, “What?”
“If we’re going to talk, you have to call me Liam. Not Payne - and not Mudblood.” And this is new to Liam - he doesn’t usually stand up for things. He smoothens out the bed sheets to get out any crinkles in response and Zayn’s eyes trace the movement.
“What’s up with that - Liam?”
And Liam flushes darker, enjoying the drawl of his name from Zayn’s lips - it was certainly different from how his housemates of muggle friends said it. “Dunno,” he mutters, “helps me think, I guess.” He looks up, catching Zayn’s eyes, “I - I like things to be perfect because if you’re not then you won’t get anywhere - anything - don’t deserve any of it.”
Zayn looks down at him from where he’s sitting, “I thought we were talking about your cleaning.”
“We are,” Liam whispers, swallowing back the lump in his throat. He wonders if he can ever explain to anyone how the Beauty Enchantments are really a type of cleaning.
………
Zayn and McCarthy stop talking. In fact, Joseph avoids him like the plague, head bowed in reserve and replacement wand stuffed in his robe pockets. Funnily enough, he avoids Liam as well, not having given him any trouble since the incident on the bleachers.
But Zayn doesn’t.
Ok - no, it’s not as if the two of them are openly friendly or walk each other to class but Zayn doesn’t look as gaunt anymore and Liam actually sees him at meals. But he’ll occasionally throw an acknowledging nod at Liam - to the bewilderment of everyone around him.
Especially when the holidays roll around the castle goes almost completely empty. There are six Syltherins, four Ravenclaws, no Gryffindors, and one Hufflepuff - Liam - left in the castle over Christmas break. But honestly, the castle is so big that Liam hardly ends up seeing anyone around anymore. Except when he sits down for meals in the wide, echoing Great Hall, Zayn will take the seat across from him at the Hufflepuff table and calmly keep his eyes on his plate until he finishes eating, takes one glance at Liam, and gets up to leave. He doesn’t say a word - until Christmas morning that is.
“Happy Christmas.”
Liam looks up sharply, almost having forgotten Zayn’s presence at the table, the words shocking him back into context. He clears his throat, “You too.”
Zayn nods in response, eyes trained on his pudding, “I’m,” he hesitates, “looked up King or whoever. Did some pretty interesting things. I -” And he looks up and Liam catches the look in his eyes and Zayn looks a bit embarrassed to continue.
“That’s good,” Liam smiles halfheartedly and Zayn mimics the motion back at him. And there’s a long awkward, drawn out silence.
Liam stands hastily, wiping his fingers on his napkin, “Well, I best be off. See - see you around Zayn.” He doesn’t wait for a response before clambering over the seat to make his way to the edge of the table and out the door.
“Liam.” Zayn’s voice isn’t very loud, but the whole damn hall echoes with emptiness now. Liam turns gingerly to find Zayn leaning over the table, fringe in his eyes, “My mum. She says that people shouldn’t spend Christmas alone. Want to - I don’t know,” he shakes his head, “never mind.”
Liam looks back the #courage scrawled across the Gryffindor table and then back at Zayn, wondering which ‘mum’ he was referring to, “Yeah. Yeah sure.”
His mouth pulls into an involuntary smile and Zayn bites down on his bottom to lip to hide his own.
………
They end up in the Hufflepuff dormitory after finding that it was too cold to be outside and that the Slytherin common room was too far way (Zayn’s words, not Liam’s because Liam doesn’t really know where the room is anyway).
Zayn sprawls across his bed as though he’s been here a million, billion times before and Liam curls up on the window seat to watch him as he raises his head and looks around at the space Liam calls home, ” ‘s bloody clean in here.”
Liam shrugs.
Zayn’s eyes soften in a way Liam’s never seen them before, “Not a bad thing though.”
Liam shrugs again.
“You gonna talk or what?” Zayn sighs, frustrated.
“Don’t know what to say.”
Zayn sits up, leaning against Liam’s pillow, feet dangling at the edge of his bed, “You practically know my life story, Liam. Give me something to work with here.”
“You didn’t have to tell me anything,” Liam points out.
Zayn rolls his eyes, “Yeah - but I did, didn’t I?”
There’s a long moment of silence.
“My family’s not as interesting as yours,” Liam begins hesitantly, fixing his eyes on something outside of the window, “I’ve got two older sisters, a mum, and a dad and we live in this very normal house in Muggle London. When I first got my Hogwarts Letter, my mum thought it was some kind of a joke - thought there were people who wanted to kidnap me.”
Liam shakes his head, bemused at the memory, “Eventually, someone from the magical board came down to our house and took me away.” He pauses, “She cried a lot then.”
And Liam looks up to find Zayn giving him a strange look.
“What?” he asks, self-conscious.
“Nothing,” Zayn replies, “just - that’s different, yeah. I mean. I waited for my letter all my life - it was all I wanted - especially in a house where there was magic everywhere I looked. Wanted my own wand,” his voice turns bitter, “turns out it’s more responsibility than I ever wanted.
But Liam shakes his head, thumbing over the smooth wood of his wand, twirling it between his fingers, “Magic is - it’s,” his mouth pulls into an awed smile, “I’d never give it up - for anything.”
Zayn’s eyes are trained on him and Liam wonders if he understands just how much it means to him - just how lucky he feels he is to be blessed with this strange gift that seemed to have evaded everyone else in his family.
Zayn falls back on the bed and immediately winces as it appears he’s hit something, hand reaching up to pull a book out from under Liam’s pillow. Liam flinches as he holds it up, “ Beauty Charms: The Collection,” he reads off, brows raised and Liam flushes a dark red, getting up from his place by the window to reach for the book.
But Zayn holds it out of his reach, “You don’t need this, Liam.” He shoves it into his own book bag and Liam makes a face at him.
“You don’t know that, Zayn,” he mutters, mocking his patronizing tone.
Zayn levels him with a look and lifts the sleeve of his robe again, baring his arm, “We’re all just human.” Liam watches his arm in that same horrified fascination that he gets whenever he’s confronted with the dark mark, “Just human.”
………
Zayn sleeps there that night, pulling an excuse that he’s too tired to go back down to his own dorm. He sleeps in Liam’s bed and Liam takes another one in the room, watching as Zayn’s golden figure disappears into his neat sheets - mussing the bedcovers and throwing the pillow askew.
His fingers don’t twitch with the urge to straighten them out.
Right as he’s drifting off in the unfamiliar bed (because Liam’s done more strange things this year than he has in his entire life) he faintly hears Zayn mutter, “
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.”
It sounds like a goodbye wish, a promise.
“Zayn,” Liam yawns.
“Yeah?”
He buries his face in the pillow to hide his smile, “Go to sleep.”
“Yeah.”
………
The next day, the first thing Liam runs into on his way to the bathroom is a shirtless Zayn Malik, spitting water into the sink.
Liam swallows as Zayn turns to him with a hesitant smile, watching as a droplet of water swerves down from under his ear, down his throat, and further where Liam refuses to look.
“Morning,” Zayn mumbles, voice thick, “sleep well?”
Liam nods, throat parched because everywhere he looks, it seems to be filled with Zayn’s golden, inked skin. And Liam’s never seen that much open skin before - onanybody, least of all on a Slytherin.
Zayn gives him a strange look and pats his shoulder hesitantly and Liam can feel nothing but the warmth of his large hand because this is strangely intimate. More so than he’s gotten with anyone, “See you at breakfast, Li.”
Liam steps aside, unable to find his voice, and lets Zayn pass him by without another word.
He spends his entire shower trying to forget what had just happened and by the end, he hopes he’s succeeded.
………
“So,” Zayn mumbles around a piece of toast, “you know Snape, yeah?”
Liam keeps his eyes on his eggs, nodding slightly.
“Well he’s,” Zayn swallows, “a spy.”
Liam’s head snaps up.
“For The Order - and he’s got the dark mark as well.”
Liam eyes Zayn critically, “What’re you trying to say?”
Zayn sets down his toast and folds his hands on the table, leaning forward almost earnestly, “Gives me a chance, doesn’t it? If he can do it?”
“You want to be a spy?” Liam questions almost bemused because maybe a smart, experienced, middle- aged man can pull that off - but Zayn? Reckless, thoughtless Zayn?
“No,” Zayn says quietly, shaking his head, “I meant -” he looks around uneasily as if the walls might have ears (and for all Liam knows, they actually could), “switching sides. I want to. Switch sides I mean.”
Liam blinks at him, “Why?”
Zayn leans back again, looking completely at ease, but Liam can see the slight shake in his hands and the worry in the corner of his eyes, “Imagine for a second, Li,” And Liam doesn’t really know when this whole ‘Li’ business started, “that I become a death eater and end up getting assigned to someone’s house - don’t look at me like that, Liam, you tells loads of stories now listen to one of mine, yeah - that I get assigned to - to your house and then I’m supposed to walk in, torture you, and kill you. I can’t,” he runs a hand through his hair, dropping his gaze, “I can’t do that Li - I fucking can’t ok.”
But Liam clenches his fist, “That’s why you want to change sides?”
“Yeah,” Zayn looks confused, “Something wrong with that?”
Liam stands abruptly then because really the boy sitting across from him was stillZayn Malik and nothing, nothing would change that - he’d been a bit of a fool to think anything would, “Yeah,” Liam says because he’s suddenly become somebody that calls people out on things, “yeah there’s a really big problem with that.”
Liam takes a step back.
“This whole war is happening because people are too selfish to look beyond themselves. Maybe if - if more people did things for each other then things would be different, yeah?”
Zayn stands as well, narrowing his eyes, “I’m actually thinking of switching sides and you’re fucking shouting at me for it?”
Liam’s instinct is to shrink back - to cower, but something in him makes him pull himself upright, straightening out his backbone and he’s shocked to find out that he’s actually taller than Zayn - taller and broader, “You’ll switch sides because you don’t want to torture somebody - you’ll switch sides for yourself - but.”
And Liam’s bravado disappears and he feels young, and fat, and ugly, and unworthy again, “But you won’t because you understand that torturing somebody -anybody - is wrong.”
Zayn furrows his brow, “I don’t understand.”
And Liam chokes back a sob, stumbling backwards, “Wouldn’t expect you to. Really, I wouldn’t.”
………
That night, Liam remakes his bed twice because he’s not happy with it the first time and picks up his neatly folded clothes and slips into the Prefects bathroom for what he hopes will be a calming night. Except he’s Liam Payne - and he’s never going to have a calm night even if he prays for it.
He’s setting the warm water in the large bath to a comfortable bubbling setting when the door shifts open to reveal Zayn, who stands at the edge of the room awkwardly. Luckily, Liam’s still dressed and sitting at the edge of the bath that actually resembles a pool, with his feet dipped in.
Zayn hesitates only a moment longer before sliding in next to Liam, knees knocking his, “Hi,” he mumbles.
Liam looks at him then with a trembling mouth, the sight of Zayn just a little too much, “I missed Quidditch try-outs,” he whispers and he wonders if he’s really as torn up about it as his voice suggests.
Zayn looks at him for a long moment, something lighting in his eyes with understanding. He wraps a shaky hand around his shoulders then, squeezing tightly, “I’m a halfblood,” he whispers back.
And Liam softly leans into him, resting his head on Zayn’s collarbone, learning to breathe from the rise and fall of Zayn’s chest.
………
Things ease between the two of them after that - they’re sort of, if Liam can dare say it, friends. Because there’s a pile of Zayn’s clothing in Liam’s corner of the dorm which Zayn’s just taken for himself over the holiday break. And while they don’t talk a lot, it’s an earth shattering difference to the loneliness Liam has faced before.
On New Years Eve, the two of them end up on the Astronomy Tower with a mountain of blankets and pillows and Liam tosses them haphazardly over the floor as Zayn casts warming charms to keep out the nightly chill. And when Zayn toes off his shoes to slip under the covers next to Liam, Liam doesn’t mention that Zayn’s making him a messier person, ripping up all his habits and routines and denying him perfection. And now Liam’s wondering if he actually even needs it.
“Happy New Year,” Zayn mumbles quietly and the only source of light is the jar-fire Liam’s managed to pull together. Zayn’s eyes look green in the strange lighting.
Liam pulls at the bed sheets in the foot of space that’s present between the two of them. ”Happy New Year,” he mumbles back.
Zayn shuffles through his pockets for a minute and then looks up at Liam with strange expression, “Do you have your watch?”
And Liam blushes furiously, “No - forgot mine in the common room.” He hesitates, “I can go and get it if you want.” But he doesn’t want to leave the warmth. Not really.
But Zayn shakes his head, “Nah. No problem.” And he lays back down, stretching out his legs and pushing his arms under his head.
Liam on the other hand, curls into a tight ball, arms around his knees, as he watches the rise and fall of Zayn’s chest. His mouth quirks up in the slightest bit, “How’ll we know it’s midnight?”
Zayn shifts onto his side so he’s facing Liam. “We’ll know,” he says. Liam furrows his brow but Zayn only smiles at him, “Do muggles do anything special for New Years?”
Liam feels his cheeks heat and he ducks his head, “Dunno.” He feels Zayn shift next to him and there’s the warmth of a body to his left.
“Well wizards do.”
“Yeah?” Liam’s voice is hoarse, throat parched.
“Yeah.”
And that’s definitely Zayn’s arm snaking around Liam’s shoulders. Liam forces himself to exhale so his heart continues to beat.
“Liam.” Zayn’s breath is shaky. “Liam look at me.”
Liam peeks up, catching the way the firelight reflects in Zayn’s eyes. His mouth trembles violently and his head is screaming at him. But Liam’s a bit lost to the world because Zayn has these eyelashes that might be longer than any Liam’s seen on a girl.
Zayn searches his eyes once, twice, three times before he presses forward, trapping Liam with his hands and then Zayn’s mouth is on his, but their lips are barely brushing.
Liam freezes for a minute and Zayn draws back, “This ok?”
“I’m a mudblood,” Liam mumbles quietly, trying to pull away but Zayn’s grip only tightens.
“I don’t think I care anymore - don’t know if I ever really cared.”
“I take beauty potions so I’m not ugly,” Liam whispers.
“I don’t think you’re ugly.”
“I missed Quidditch tryouts,” Liam says at last, but it sounds weak to his own ears.
“Hate Quidditch.”
Liam looks shocked, “Really?” He wrinkles his nose and goes to move back, almost in argument, but Zayn makes a low sound and jerks him forward and then they’re really kissing.
Not like before when Liam could hardly feel the pressure of Zayn’s mouth - but really as in Zayn’s nipping at his bottom lip and licking into his mouth.
There’s a loud gonging sound - the Hogwarts school clock that Liam had forgotten about - and they break away into breathless laughter and Liam feels high and free and beautiful. “Happy New Year,” he mumbles into Zayn’s shoulder and Zayn runs a hand down his back but his palms are shaking and sweaty as Liam counts down the twelve gongs, deafening from where they’re sitting up in the Astronomy Tower.
They stay there, Zayn’s arms around him and Liam’s face buried in his shoulder for god knows how long because Liam is still coming to terms with this. First of all, Liam’s never really felt like anyone would care to be in this situation with him, especially not a snobby, pureblood, Slytherin. Who happened to not really be Slytherin, snobby, or pureblood. Sometimes the amount his life has changed in one semester in the same school he’s been in since he was eleven scares Liam.
“McCarthy thought that you were helping me switch sides. Because I mentioned it to him at the beginning of the year. It’s why he tortured you - it’s why I talked to you, too, ” Zayn says but it doesn’t sound quite as heavy as Liam remembers the topic to have been. He chokes and holds Liam closer when he tries to move back and look at his face, “I’m a halfblood - but it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Liam closes his eyes and breathes out, “You’re human. We’re human.”
………
Liam was wrong before - he could have peaceful days. Because peaceful days are waking up early to find Zayn still sprawled in his bed (which Liam still hasn’t shared with him or felt the urge to clean even though Zayn never makes the bed) and eating breakfast as Zayn reads another book and spending aimless hours trekking through the snowy grounds.
Zayn pulls him outside once, hand clasped in Liam’s and they don’t really walk around like a couple holding hands so it’s quite new. Zayn usually keeps a respectable distance between the two of them and Liam doesn’t really understand what they are. But it’s a complete change to being alone and Liam’s starting to think he might really like change.
And here he is, white snow blowing his hair back and tie rippling in the wind. He reaches up to fix it almost absentmindedly but Zayn takes his other hand as well and then they’re sort of just standing there, arms locked.
“What,” Liam mumbles, trying to hide the fact that his face is heating with color.
Zayn shakes his head, “Winter’s my favorite season.”
Liam releases both of his hands and hugs himself to keep warm - the winter breeze even stronger than their coats and warming charms, “Why didn’t you go home?”
Zayn shrugs, “Why didn’t you?”
” ‘s not safe,” Liam says quietly, “My mum’s finally figured out what’s happening here and she didn’t want me to come back here at all. Until the Magical Board contacted her and told her that Hogwarts was probably the safest place to be - even if it doesn’t look like it.”
Zayn hums, pressing a bit of snow between his hands, “My house is full of death eaters. Dad sent my mum and sisters away - somewhere up north in Spain to keep them out of the mess. He wanted me to come home actually - I refused though.”
Liam looks at him out of the corner of his eyes and Zayn looks a bit lost - tan skin against an abundance of white. Liam knows that, god, did he always feel like that.
“He wants me to join up - as soon as possible,” Zayn murmurs almost to himself, “I’ve been putting it off but the call could come at any minute.” He shudders and when he looks back at Liam, it’s as if his eyes have darkened considerably, “Don’t know how I’m going to get away with not showing up.”
And Liam doesn’t know either so he takes a step closer until his shoulder is brushing Zayn’s, “Don’t worry about it - not now at least.”
………
But it is something to worry about.
Term has barely just started in which Liam doesn’t see much of Zayn unless Zayn makes it his mission to stop by between classes and says a simple hello - sometimes just catching Liam’s eyes before disappearing again, when one night, everyone’s gathered into the Great Hall for dinner and Carrow stands to make an announcement.
“All Slytherins are gonna stay behind, yeah. We got special jobs for you lot.”
Liam freezes and his eyes immediately turn to where Zayn’s sitting, hunched over on the table, staring silently down at his plate.
The thing is, Liam knows that Zayn’s spoken to him about switching sides many, many times - and he’s spoken truthfully. But speaking and doing are two very, very different things. Honestly, Liam has no idea what Zayn’s actually going to do.
When he leaves the hall with the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws, head sort of bowed to avoid attention, he can’t find Zayn among them. He hangs back for a second, waiting, and the last thing he sees before the door seals itself shut is Zayn’s wide-eyed frame still sitting rigidly at the Slytherin table.
………
He can’t sleep that night. His bed smells like expensive, pureblood perfume, and the duvets are messy. So he lights his wand at about two in the morning and makes his bed, re-arranging his trunk, clothing, and belongings carefully before stripping his t-shirt back off and carefully sliding under the now neat sheets.
He shudders, turning onto his side and tries to listen to the deep breathing of his dorm mates to lull him back to sleep. Twenty minutes later, he knows it’s hopeless and resigns himself to a long, sleepless night while Zayn is off doing god knows what.
The door of his dormitory swings up, making Liam and a few of the boys look up - some grab their wands as a precaution (because nobody sleeps far from them these days - Liam’s own is right on the dresser about an arm’s reach away).
“Liam?”
Liam scrambles up and fists the sheets in his hand involuntarily, “Zayn?”
Zayn stumbles through the dark room until he finds Liam’s bed and Liam is going to die of embarrassment, especially with the way his housemates are whispering.
Then finally, “The fuck are you doing here Malik?” It’s the boy from before - the one whose name Liam had forgotten.
Zayn snarls, “Fuck off, yeah.” And there’s the Zayn that Liam remembers from all those years ago. Yet, at the same time, his hands are careful and gentle on Liam’s shoulders that he’s incessantly pushing back on.
Liam moves back on command and Zayn slides in next to him pulling shut the curtains as somebody wolf-whistles. Liam feels his face flush as Zayn casts silencing charm after privacy charm before he wraps both his arms around Liam and presses his face into Liam’s shoulder. It’s only then that Liam realizes he’s crying.
Ok no, it’s not like Zayn is sobbing or gasping with tears, but his shoulders are shaking lightly and his face is wet.
“Liam,” he says quietly, “Liam I have to leave tomorrow. They’re making me leave.”
Liam puts a hesitant hand on the back of Zayn’s head and another around is waist suddenly extremely thankful for the charms Zayn casted around his bed. He also doesn’t really know what to say to he holds Zayn until his breathing evens out and he’s alright enough to pull back and light his wand.
And Zayn’s eyes look green in the light again. Liam swallows.
“Are all the Slytherins leaving tomorrow?”
And Zayn shakes his head, “Just some of us seventh years. We’ve been called on supposedly.” His tone is bitter.
Liam exhales heavily, “You have to go.” He eyes Zayn hard, “You have to go.”
But Zayn’s grasping on to his hand and pulling Liam down on the bed with him, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Zayn - they’ll fucking kill you if you don’t go.”
Zayn holds him tighter.
“Why do you always try and get yourself killed?” Liam says, frustrated, and ok that one was a bit of an exaggeration. But only slightly.
Zayn tips his forehead to look directly into his eyes, “That’s rich coming from someone who took beauty enhancement charms for two fucking years.”
Liam pulls back in shock, eyes wide and Zayn breathes heavily, pulling him back in tighter so Liam can’t move. The admission hangs in the air for a long moment because nobody’s ever really called Liam out on it - they’ve just sort of accepted it like oh poor, poor Liam Payne with his poor, poor insecurities. Nobody’s ever made it seem like it was his choice - like it was something he controlled.
But if control is what Zayn wants - that’s what he’ll get, “If you go - I’ll never do it again.” Zayn looks at him cautiously and he begins to speak but Liam cuts him off, “If you go tomorrow, I’ll never touch another beauty charm again. I promise.”
Zayn flops on his back, “That’s not fair, Liam.”
“Nothing’s fair in life, Zayn.”
There’s a long moment of contemplative silence.
“No,” Zayn says at last.
“No?”
“No,” and this time it’s firmer, “you need to stop for yourself, Liam. You can’t get better for someone else - you can’t stop for someone else. And even if you promise me today, you’re not going to be able to stop until you realize -“
“That I’m beautiful?” Liam asks wryly.
Zayn snorts, squeezing his hips tightly, “Until you realize that all people are flawed. Every single one of us is fucked up and we’ll always be fucked up.”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
Zayn hides his smile in Liam’s neck, “But it doesn’t matter.” He draws back, assessing Liam with his eyes, “I’ve never met someone who takes their own advice less than you do.”
“I don’t see what this has to do with you leaving tomorrow,” Liam mutters and he doesn’t know where to put his hands or legs or anything because lying in bed with another person is much harder than books or magazines make it seem.
“I’m not leaving tomorrow.”
“Zayn,” Liam sighs, exasperated but Zayn smirks at him and tips his head back, fingers in his hair.
“Hi Liam,” he mutters and his eyes are still a little bit wet so it’s only reasonable that he tastes a little salty and a little sweet all at once.
And Liam doesn’t really know how long they lay there that night and he certainly doesn’t know when he drifted off to sleep (he didn’t even know that would be possible with Zayn so close to him). But he does know that when he wakes up it’s barely light outside and Zayn is gone.
………
Liam spends the rest of the day in a daze because although he and Zayn didn’t really interact much, it was still nice to know that someone was there - no matter how much Liam didn’t really know if he could trust that someone. And now, he’s back, slipping into his observing role, making his bed, smoothing his tie out, crisply folding his clothes, and keeping his mouth shut.
He’s back in his comfort zone - as if he’s never left - and Liam wants to claw his skin off.
Zayn took the beauty charm book with him and when Liam goes down to the library during lunch to hunt it out to be sure - it really is gone. He feels like he should mourn it - he really does - but he can’t because Zayn has changed him in unexplainable ways. Ways in which Liam likes. Which is why him being gone has just managed to leave Liam one-step too deep in loneliness.
He stops his #courage campaign - never bothering to pick it up after the holidays because it honestly seems like Liam has nobody to be brave for. But standing in Muggle Studies, watching as Carrow preaches that Mudbloods should be systematically herded and executed because they were unholy, unnatural beings. Liam thinks that if Zayn were still here, he’d tell the school about the Holocaust. But he isn’t - so Liam isn’t going to do anything.
Everything is falling back into itself - or so Liam thinks, until a shaking prefect pokes his head into Carrows room and states that Liam is needed in the Headmaster’s office. The Slytherins snicker as Liam packs his books but many of them discretely pat his shoulder as he walks by and Liam thinks there might be hope for his war yet.
The headmaster’s office is empty and Liam is bewildered as to what’s happening until the Floo - the magical, transporting fireplace - roars to life in the corner of the room. There’s a plume of smoke, coughing, and a recognizable voice that says, “Liam!”
Liam doesn’t look - just sort of blindly reaches for Zayn and yanks him into a bone crushing hug, burying his head in Zayn’s shoulder, digging his hands into his waist. Zayn’s mouth is in his hair.
“How’re you doing Li?” Zayn’s voice is as soft as his hands are on Liam’s back.
Liam shakes, “How are you? What are you doing here?”
Zayn flips his sleeve up and there, right below the dark mark is a small triangle with a circle engraved on the inside crossed through vertically with a line. “This is some sort of secret Order Symbol. Took it last night with my mum and sisters - I - Snape took me straight to a safe house - apparently he brought my mum and sisters there too. It looks like the old bugger knew I was up to something.” Liam can also see the words #courage faintly written into Zayn’s wrist but he chooses not to comment, savoring the burst of heat it ignites in his stomach instead.
Liam hugs him tighter then but Zayn doesn’t stop speaking, “I can’t stay but if this war works out. If you - we - win then.” He doesn’t continue but Liam knows exactly what he’s saying - or what he hopes Zayn’s saying.
They stand in silence for a long moment.
“I don’t love you Li,” Zayn whispers and something in Liam clenches - in understanding.
“I don’t love you either.”
But Zayn tips his head up and leans in, mouth curving into a smile Liam’s never, ever seen on his face before. His eyes are incredibly soft, “But I could.”