The Sleepy Hell-Chaser and a Bomb Finished

Classes meant uniform. Charles decided to bend a rule or two, opting out of the uniform for some casual clothes and a leather jacket... a lighter shade of black... newer... fresh... it didn't contain nearly as half of the memories that his other one did. The one that he lost that night... the night of the storm where Niffler have been- and where he got the spiderweb scar across his back... that jacket now lost... lost with the memories and moments he experienced with it. Stained with tears and laughter. A reminder of who he once was.

The teen found a seat near the back of the class. A dark corner. Cut away from the rest. Head hung over a leather-bound journal. Pen in hand, lightly tracing lines. Sketching. His ears shielding his mind from the words... the voices of the others... losing the connection he once had with the world around him. Eyes fluttered, filtering in images of his journal and the sketch. Fading the others away.

The class continued on. Charles in the back, shading in the sketch as others laughed. Conversed. He told himself he didn't need it... the socializing.... nearing six feet, his eyes could see the front of the room. Students in pairs. Everyone in pairs... Everyone except for him. Alone as usual.... another class spent with his nose in his journal. Acting like an nerd probably why he lashes out, to show he isn't one not with his grades at least.

The end of the class came. Charles marked an final spot, lifting the pen, he eyed the finished product. A boy leaning aginest a broom on a field. The boy seemed to resemble the captain of the durmstrang team... the frosted niffler.... Valentin Schnell.

Charles eyed the drawing. His fingers dropping to the paper. Lightly rubbing then aginest the drawn face of Valentin... his fingers trembled at the touch... swallowing hard, he firmly placed his hand to the page when he tore his eyes open at the scene above. Others passed on their way out, casting looks, the teen closed the journal quickly and shoved it into his bag followed by his other items.


Students passed the blonde. Sending glares. Charles would return each, a unblinking one of his own till they passed. Lifting his bag, setting it over his shoulder, raising from his seat as he fell into step. Behind the group of students. Stepping through the classroom, passing the threshold into the hall.

Light emerged through the hall from the windows. The end of winter it felt.... watching as groups formed, clustered together in the hall to talk amomg themselves to their next class.

One hand on the strap of his bag. The other by his side. Walking alone, slowly through the hall, sticking out as he wasn't in uniform nor with another. The teen walked. His eyes passed by others, mind focused elsewhere as his shove brushed... pushed past others... not looking back or muttering a acknowledgement to them as he walked.

The teen found his eyes gaze about, walking to his next class, a group of four lads lingered on the side. Casting glares... whsipers at others... Charles followed them with his eyes. Heart pounding... humming in his ears... forcing a breath as he walked over, coming to a halt in front of the four lads.

"What," Charles voiced. A single word. His tone neutral. Contained, his eyes darting between the four. Staring. Whsipers. Snippets of words exchanged between the four. He felt his free hand curl to a firm fist, stepping back as he steady himself then propelled forward. Connecting fist to nose. One of thr lad stumbled back a bit, the other three stared.

Charles took control of himself, stepping back as he spoke"there, something to stare at now," his words short. Mundane. Turning on his heel as he continued his slow paced walk down the hall to his next class.

The glint of the window. Charles neared it, leaning to the wall. Eyes shining out the window. Others passed... walking to their class... moments left... soon only a few footsteps could be heard. Charles stared out the window. The glint... reflection... eyes back on him... who is this person? The one staring back at him?

Footsteps. A single pair. Growing louder. His mind faded them with the rest until he heard the voice. One he couldn't ignore.

Shifting his weight, stepping from the wall as he looked. Valentin apporching with teeth marks on his neck... his leg chewed.... the teen eyed him, wider eyes than before as Valentin grew closer.

His words. Of excitement. Of one you would hear from a puppy bringing his onwer back a lot show or item. The nickname. Char. Only Valya called him that and it warmth him... staring at him. At Valentin. He felt his heart beat faster.

The words. Asking him... Charles felt himself blurt, "what the hell, Valentin," reverting to English in times of worry or stress. Something only those close would know about him... those such as friends or close team mates. The teen eyed Valentin, hia eyed clouded of worry... fear... the once happiness of seeing his fond jacket now gone, replaced with concern for Nif.

"What happened? Who did to you?" Charles asked his voice seeking answers. Eyes staring at Valentin. Mind switching between English and Russian in a panic, "I swear if you went back to the forest, Frost.... your life means more than a jacket, much more," his words laced with something more... softness... care...

Opening his bag, drawing his wand from it's depths. Holding it in his right hand. Shutting the bag, ensuring his journal with the drawings stayed within the bags walls. The blonde would take a step closer, the space between the two slowly fading. Eyes meeting Valentin's. He swallowed.

"I appreciate you going back for my jacket and could never repay you but will try but... but you are far to loved and cared for to return to thay forest, Val," Charles felt the words leave his tongue, the healing spell, epsikey at the ready for Niffler, the blonde stared at the white hair as he spoke"promise... promise me you won't return to that forest again but if you do at least let me know so I can come with just in case... to help..." he would dsrt his eyes away... red flushed his cheeks... rubbing at his neck for a moment.

The teen looked back, a sudden rise of his hands to Valentin but he won't touch the lad or cast a healing spell upon him without his word as he spoke"may I?"

Val's English.

The mumbles. Words. The sounds from the frost captain.... ones that felt passed by as Charles expressed his concern. Care. For him. For his captain.... as for his position and as a friend.

The teen felt the words emit from his mouth.... his mouth moving faster than his mind unable to slow or stop the hurling train till German touched his ears. One language he learned long ago. The German word for his name, the teen felt himself stop before muttering back in German, "Jawohl Frost-Kapitän," the translation for the words he just said in German would be; yes, Frost Captain. The nickname he fondly took for the white haired niffler.

Charles caught his backpeddling. The teen didn't retreat. He eyed him carefully, carefully taking a step closer to Niffler. Wand in hand. Ears listening to the words at hand. To the heat of the moment. The words echoed in his ears, putting one above another? Simple pleasures... small acts of kindness... ones friends do for each other.

Quidditch, sure it was dangerous but that was why there is a team. To protect one another. To have each other's back, heed one another and keep them in sight. To help defend the others or cacth them from falling. You can't win a game alone.... you can't play alone.... but if you could then would it even be the same? Would winning feel the same?

Charles took another step closer to Valentin, leaning on the section if the window opposite of Valentin as he spoke"there is no harm in a dare or thrill, we all do it and quidditch fulfills that for some but-" the word felt faded. Lost. Stinging at the back of his throat as he shallowed, eyes on Valentin as he spoke"but for others it isn't thats why we have dares and thrills but Frost, you don't have to go it alone." His words growing a little louder with each beat that passed, with each minute ticking away.

"Quidditch is dangerous sure but your not alone. You- we are on a team, one that protects each other and watches for one another so we don't risk our lives and playing on a team isn't just for the safety of it," Charles spoke as his voice grew louder. His body strained as he pushed himself from the window. Standing in front of Valentin. Eyes on him as he spoke"when we play as a team, we grow and smile especially when we win. A victory isn't the same alone, alone even if we win then sometimes we feel like we lose..." His voice faded. His chest clenched at the words. His mind echoing as he sniffed back the emotions.

Wand in his right as he lunged forward. Grabbing Valentin by his shoulders, holding one in each hand as his emotions switched him from russian to english as he spoke"Hell, alone there's only a chance to get injured. There are multiple that would go on the thrills with you, including me so promise you won't go alone again! Frost!" A moment passed when another voice interrupted.

Charles back up immediately, wand in his right when his eyes met two figures. One, an Norwegian bloke yelling and the british bloke besides him, the one with the bloody nose that Charles might have been the cause of.

Charles looked from Valentin to the Norwegian as he spoke"as much as I would like to get bloodied up by walking rubbish, I'm sort of in the middle of something so could we settle this tomorrow during morining classes?" His words didn't help, perhaps he shouldn't have insulted the bloke who stared him down. Nostrils fairing. The Norwegian lunged forward, grabbing Charles by the collar of his shirt as the bloody nose boy shouted" now your dead! This is what you deserve for punching people, blondie!"

Charles ignored the whines from the boy as he attempted to step back a little from the Norwegian as he spoke"can't you brush you teeth? Nor a pleasant smell where I'm standing," The teen knew he should stop talking but his mouth wouldn't stop moving. The Norwegian raised a fist, hitting him square in the jaw.

The bloke dropped his hold on Charles, rubbing his jaw. The teen eyed the bloke and walked toward him, raising his fist. The blonde slammed it into the Norwegian's nose, the bloody nose kid watching. Now backing up. Charles pushed at the bloke, rising a fist again as hs slammed it into the bloke's eye.

The Norwegian shoved him off. Charles stumbled back a bit, balancing himself as he prepared for the Norwegian to rush at him. Dodging the second punch to the nose but not at the third. The fist hitting him in the eye, blinking as it started to glow a tint of purple and blue. The teen squinted a little as he swung again at the Norwegian. Missing. Stumbling back, bringing his hands to his temple to steady himself when the Norwegian swung amd nailed him in the jaw.

Charles felt the rush to his head, his bag swinging by his side. Ready to fall at any moment when the Norwegian swung again... then again... both hitting his jaw. The teen stumbled back, hand leaning to the wall. Taking a breath. Eyes on the Norwegian running over, sliding from the wall to allow the bloke to run into it.

Turning, Charles pinned the Norwegian to the wall. Swinging his fist. Punching once then another then another... all three hitting the bloke's guts. The teen held him to the wall, leaning close to him as he spoke"now, I suggest you leave as I said I'm preoccupied currently." The teen loosen his grip on the Norwegian, taking a half of step back when the Norwegian slammed his heel into Charles's ankle. A pop could be heard as pain shot up from the area.

The teen stumbled back a step, disoriented allowing the Norwegian to grab him and shoved against the wall. Pinning him there. Hands around his neck. The teen pulled at the hand as his bag got closer... and closer to falling... Falling and revealing his talent in the arts.

TW: Violence.

Charles pulled at the hands grasped around his collar bone, fingernails pressing into the fresh. The blonde flattened his head aginest the wall, brushing his shoes against the ground. Looking to stabilize himself, to find a grip to stand.

His chest clenching as he forced breaths, the Norwegian not loosening his grip. The blonde pulling at the hand at hus collar bone. Pushing at the chest of the Norwegian, pushing his feet aginest the wall as he elbowed the Norwegian in the ribcage. Unfortunately, he was still pinned to the wall while his bag slipped from his shoulder and cuaght air. The parchment, books, feather quills, ink jars, leather-bound sketch journal and personal items spilling out.

Colliding with the floor. A sliding mess, the life of the blonde. Hidden and public now revealed to the public. To those he cares for and thise he fights... the journal falling open, to the page he was working on. The sketch of Valentin Schnell, skidding to inches away from the feet of Valentin Schnell.

One wouldn't guess the journal belongs to Charles. He never told anyone he drew or enjoyed art, a hidden talent that he always been too afraid to share. Afraid of the reactions he would receive. Afraid of what they would think... If one would flip past the page with the sketch of Valentin Schnell then they would see other pages with sketches of Johannes Sauer, Lysander Stavrou, Romeo Marchonné, Arjan Oberoi, Astrid Olsen, Madhup Hexum. The durmstrang quidditch team. Other pages contained students from his classes, from days when he was bored un class and would choose to sketch in the back instead of paying attention.

Those sketches would include the faces of Mikael Halldorson, Cielle Johansen, Yefim Rumyantsev, Elizaveta Mikhailov, and a few other of his friends who attended other schools. Cassie Heather, Drew Lycan, Rosella Sokolov, Haley Rose.

However, one thing would be clear from the journal. The sketches were mainly of Valentin Schnell, Haley Rose, Cassie Heather, Rosella Sokolov, Drew Lycan, and Johannes Sauer.

One wouldn't know this journal belonged to Charles until reaching the first page. Where in the bottom left corner, in minuscule lettering. The opposite of the blonde's handwriting. The lettering inscribed a name 'Charles Alluring'.

The teen pushed aginest the Norwegian, seeking a breath when suddenly he felt himself fall back. Stumbling aginest the wall. Kneeling down, relief flowed as he took breaths. Free from the grasp of the Norwegian, resting his head aginest the wall when he met Valentin's eyes then the scene unfolded om front of his very eyes.

The teen choose to find friends in othet schools. He choose to keep to himself, avoiding others. He choose tobstart fights and allow others to bloody him up. He choose this but he didn't want others to find injury for him, he didn't seek to cause harm to others. Especially his friends or team mates.

The blonde inhaled deeply, still trying to cacth his breath from a moment ago. Wiping at his nose as he pished himself from the wall. Exhaling, brushing back his blonde hair as he propelled himself forward and shoved the Norwegian's shoulder as he spoke"I think you should take your leave now, arse!"

Reducio

When the Norwegian looked toward the blonde, Charles sent a rushing punch for his jaw. Stepping forward, hand taking the lad's shirt collar while the other found formation. Jetting out. Fist connecting with the Norwegian's jaw once... twice.. three times as he pushed him back in the hall.

For a moment, Charles seemed to have the upperhand until he brought a fist aimed for the Norwegian who swept his legs. The blonde stumbling over, caching himself on the ground when he met a kick to the ribs. Rolling over to his side as he felt another rush of his ribs.

Short words of exchange. The blonde stayed where he was. Afraid to see what other harm he placed Valentin into... this was his mess, the white haired shouldn't have to pay for it.

When the Norwegian would leave with his friend, Charles pulled himself to his knees. Starting to collect his things, eyes missing the sketch book as he pulled parchment and books along with school supplies into his bag. Eyes avoiding Valentin as he went through the motions, as he spoke"apologies- I'm sorry, I didn't and would never intentionally allow you to be injured. " Collecting the fallen quills and ink jars, a few personal items to be stored back into his bag.

Charles kept his place om the ground, even when the Norwegian became distracted- taken back from Valentin's venomous whsiper. The teen felt his chest clench through breaths, forcing them to slow. Forcing them to control his emotions- anger. Clenching his fist to the ground as he pushed himself to his knees, chest clenching with the movements. Tightening at every inched he moved. The teen kept his eyes to the ground, the cracking of the floor caked with dirt and smudges. Eyes watching the cracks, fists breaking to feel the ground underneath. Reminding himself not to break, not to uncover the strange feelings he have been getting recently. The moments where he can barely breath, where his thoughts pound the inside of his mind, where he feels surges to lash out... to explode... tired of thinking, tired of hiding.

The teen reminded himself through breaths that he needed to keep that hidden. He had to. Turn those moments invisible for the ones watching, for the ones he cares for.

The venom filled whispers, the Norwegian scampered away, far from the area... not because of the blonde but Valentin. Charles pushed the thoughts aside, threatening to spill through as he felt weak. Guilty. At fault. It was his, fault, for the injuries that befell Valentin and yet he was still able to drive the Norwegian away... a act that the teen couldn't do himself.

The teen drove a hand through his hair, pushing it back along with the droplet of sweat that formed along his hairline during the fight.

Pushing himself upward, to his knees. Stretching for his bags, pulling items into his bag. Disorganization, without a order. Just wanting to collect his items once more, to collect the mask he once had. The one he wore to hide the moments of weakness he experienced, the tightness of his chest.

At the words, the bittersweet ones yet a sign of comfort from Valentin. The blonde looked up, momentarily forgetting his position and actions before the fight occurred as his ears cuaght the world and eyes cuaght the notebook. The one he used for sketches. That very leather-bound notebook in the palms of Valentin Schnell. The teen swallowed, the words of wanting to be seen more of the forbidden sketches of the leather-bound book. The teen pulled the rest of the items rather quickly into his bag, wanting to run now. To hide. To scream, even punch something as his chest grew tighter.

The teen pulled the final item into his bag, pulling the bag over his right shoulder. Taking the torn, worn out jacket that Valentin brought, into his hand to place over his right arm.

The teen stood in front of Valentin, eyes meeting the Frost Captain. The leather-bound journal. There were reasons why the teen hid the journal, the talent he held after years of practice within the artwork, the sketches he drew in his spare time. In the time he spent alone. The teen viewed the talent- the sketches as his downfall, of others knew about them... found out about the journal then the life he built up at the school. The mask he wore within thise walls. He was afraid that will all be destroyed, gone... the hope of finding a place at durmstrang evaporated in front of his very eyes.

"That-" The teen choked, russian became foreign to him for a moment as the english word escaped his mouth. The teen cleared his throat, brushed back his hair with his left hand. Holding the bag, jacket close in his right as his chest clenched. Grip felt shaky, weak than it was a few moments ago. The teen would reach out, taking the journal in his hand as his mind mind found the russian translation and spoke"that- that journal isn't-" about to say the journal wasn't his. A friend's. A lie, simple as that but he couldn't. Lying in this moment, to Valentin didn't feel the same as it felt when lying to others.

The teen felt his eyes rest on the white hair, the leather in the palm of his left hand as he spoke"the journal- sketches their nothing. A mere schoolboy hobby, really," Now lying to himself. It wasn't a mere hobby, at least not to him. The sketches were his escape, the chance to imagine another life. Another world for himself.

Slipping the journal into his bag, withdrawing his wand. The voice, Valentin's, the teen swallowed hard. He didn't want anyone, especially those he cares for, to risk their life. To go on dares, thrills for him.

Together?

The teen eyed Valentin.

Did he- no... he couldn't have but what if...

Thoughts ran along his mind. The act of thinking was causing his mind to ache, the teen wasn't the greatest at thinking. All one would need to do is look at his grades, allow the statement to be proven true. Defense and History, the two classes he could ever achieve an E at best in with the occasional O.

The teen felr his eyes meet Valentin's, slipping the journal into the depths of his bag. Wand in hand. The blonde stared ahead at Valentin as he spoke"I- your different." Two words, yet the impact that they have on the rest of the interaction. Of the conversation.

"Your the captain of the quidditch team. Your someone others like, want to be around. Your someone who others trust and protects them when needed. Your well respected within the walls of this school, others would give their lives for you. You- you are rather close to the roof," Charles spoke. Running out of words, ideas through a aching mind. Perhaps, a consequence from the fight that occurred moments ago? Words of sleeping quarters, where within durmstrang the closer is on to the roof meaning the more achieved they are.

"Others depend on you and you- your someone that means something to others, to durmstrang which I why I ask you to have someone accompany you on your thrills but you can't accompany me on mine. You mean more than them, Frost."

The teen spoke. His eyes drifted away, catching the glistening window. The light reflecting in, bouncing between the walls. The figures in the hall. The hall now seemed abandoned, classes must have started as the two stood there. Eyes looking for the window, Charles held his wand up as he spoke"Could I heal you, now?"