About 4:15PM 

Care of Magical Creatures with their new professor had started over ten minutes ago.  By now, Sasha was likely undoubtedly already marked as absent.  Before the end of the October, Sasha had never missed a single class during his four plus years at Hogwarts.  Sasha had been known to take pepper up potions at the slightest hint of a stuffy nose just to make sure he never missed class due to a simple cold.  Yet, in the last few weeks, missed classes seemed to be becoming a pattern.  A bad bad pattern.   Could this month get any worse? 

At least, this time, he could get a note from the nurse if he could get down to the Hospital Hut.  That was, if he could get down there without being seen in his current state.  Not an easy task, as classes had let out for the day and the halls were filled with lingering students. 

The door to the boy's loo swung open and Sasha quickly bent over, smearing a layer of soap over his face.  The strategy served a two fold purpose: bending over helped hide his face under he pretense of washing his face (an activity most of his fellow fifth years would take at face value) and the layer of bubbly soap covered any angry, red, oozing boils one might see if they did look that closely in his direction. 

The strategy had a few distinct drawback, though.  The fix was only temporary - each time the door swung open, Sasha was compelled to hide his face again behind a layer of soap.  The repeated washes had rubbed all the boils wide open and the soap was clearly not intended to be used on open sores.  His face was angry red and burned horribly from the soap.  Not to mention the other bruises. 

The fourth year slipped out of the bathroom again and Sasha rinsed the soap from his face, gingerly patting his face dry with a handkerchief, cringing at the stings.  A second later, the door swung open again and Sasha quickly filled his hands with soap again and covered his face with the suds.

 Finally, classes were over for the day and Fergie had two whole hours of free time before he had to go to supper. Most people complained about Mondays, and the fifth year had to agree that they could be quite unpleasant. But when it came to the school year, he found Tuesdays and Thursdays to be tied in a close second. Not that his schedule was particularly full on those days, just three classes.  He had no problem with DADA, it was Potions and Herbology he had to take issue with. The former he found to be a frustrating challenge, and the latter, well...it was just so messy. And Fergie was not fond of dirt.

 But at least it was over. And if he could just scrub away any grime that had somehow seeped through his dragon hide gloves (he realized this wasn't at all likely, but he wanted to be sure), he could put it behind him and enjoy the rest of the evening. He'd taken to avoiding the bathrooms on the lower floors lately, as they were the ones most likely to be frequented by Callum and were therefore the most dangerous. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve it, but lately it seemed his classmate took even more joy from forcing Fergie's head into a toilet than he used to. The higher the floor the lavatory was on the safer he assumed it to be, which was why he had found himself entering the sixth floor bathroom instead of one on, say, the ground floor, which was much closer to his end destination of the Slytherin common room.

 He wasn't the only one who seemed to feel the need to clean up after class - there was another student already stationed at one of the sinks, washing his face. Fergie only glanced at him long enough to register what he was doing (and the fact that he had a nicely shaped derriere - what?! Fergie was sixteen, if a cute bum was on display he noticed.) before moving directly to an unoccupied sink and turning on the tap. At the moment he was more concerned with scrubbing the imaginary dirt off his hands and face and making sure his hair was okay than he was with the identity or actions of the boy standing next to him. "Herbology," he commented as he lathered his hands up with soap, checking his reflection in the mirror, "is definitely not my favorite class. I can't wait until OWLs are over so I can drop it."

Most of the time, Sasha was mortified by the number of boys who seemed to have missed the washing-your-hands lectures.  It was vile, really.  Why was it that, today of all days, one of them decided to park themselves in the sink right next to him.  Of course, as soon as Sasha recognized the voice he understood why.  Fergie was one of the few boy's who's desire for cleanliness rivaled his own.  At least Fergie was an ally.  Sasha wasn't exactly thrilled about anyone becoming aware of his current condition but it was better than Xavier walking in.  Or, Callum again. 

With a little extra soap for good measure, Sasha applied a liberal amount of suds to his face, concealing the sores under a thick layer of bubbles.  It proved to be eight applications of soap too many.  Sasha bit his lip, inhaling quickly through his nose as the soap seered against the sores.  His eyes closed tightly and his knuckles shone bright white against his skin, his fingers curled around the lip of the sink, as he waited for the pain to subside. 

"What?" he finally asked, only having half heard what Ferguson had been saying.  "Herbology?  Yeah - it's fun," he answered, absentmindedly, while biting his lip.  "I'm ... I'm not sure Professor Bombay will let me drop ... ow, scheiße!"

As much as he liked Fergie as a friend, he couldn't take it anymore.  The burning had grown to such an intensity, he didn't care if or what Fergie saw.  He flushed his face clean with large handfuls of cold water, trying to get the soap off as quickly as possible - his face felt like it was on fire.  He fanned his hands at his wet face, trying to further cool it down.  A quick glance up at the mirror revealed the horribly sorry state of his face.  "Dummkopf" he muttered, turning away from the mirror (taking care to turn so that his back turned towards Fergie) before making for the shelter of a bathroom stall.

 Recognizing the voice as belonging to Sasha (of course - it would figure he'd have a nice arse on top of everything else), Fergie glanced from his reflection to the other boy and was surprised by how tense he looked, tightly gripping the sink like it was all that was holding him up. An expression of concern mingled with confusion flickered across the Slytherin's face, and he opened his mouth to say something when Sasha's 'ow, scheiße!' cut him off.

 "Sasha, what -" If Fergie could have stopped the horrified gasp he involuntarily uttered at the sight of Sasha's sudsless face, he would have. But although he'd realized something was amiss, he hadn't been prepared for that! No one, he thought, could blame him for the way his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, aghast, at the sight of the violently red, painful looking sores on his friend's face.

 Before he could school his features into a more polite expression the Ravenclaw had turned away. Fergie was too shocked to think to stop him. His presence of mind returning after several moments of stunned silence, he quickly withdrew his wand from his pocket, flicking it at the bathroom door and muttering the incantation for the locking charm as he did so. There. Now no one could unexpectedly burst in, and he was certain, judging from the way he'd reacted a few moments ago, that Sasha would prefer a little privacy.

 Double checking his spell casting and finding it effective, Fergie turned and leaned against the door. "What happened to you?" He demanded at last. He was at a loss - who could possibly hate Sasha that much? Sure, he knew some of the purebloods were less than happy, after that article in the Daily Prophet, but... And then his eyes narrowed as he remembered. Just yesterday, before lunch, hadn't Dark promised he was going to pay? "Was it Bella? I swear, that psychotic shrew -" He shook his head, frowning angrily at the floor. "She's gone too far."

Sasha leaned against the stall door, taking deep breaths as he waited for his nerves to stop firing.  As the brunt of the pain started to ease away, he heard the sound of the bathroom door lock slide closed.  But, just as the pain from the boils on his skin started to fade, the aching from the handful of deep, dark bruises built in its place.  On top of that, he was having a hard time thinking straight.  

"I ... nothing.  Nothing happened."  An obvious lie.  "It wasn't Bella.  I haven't seen her.  Much."

---

  "That did not look like nothing to me," Fergie pointed out, shaking his head. "And if it wasn't Bella, who was it? You're not going to tell me you did that to yourself."

---

Sasha closed his eyes and shook his head, even though he knew the other boy couldn't see him.  "What does it - Knight.  It was ... bad luck."  

---

 Knight? Fergie winced - he knew first hand just how unpleasant Callum could be. Tormenting others seemed to be his dorm mate's favorite pastime. "I'm sorry," he offered, not that that helped the situation any. "I...what can I do?"

---

Again, Sasha offered another pointless, unnoticed, shake of his head.  "Nothing," he first offered, quietly.  Humiliation really just added to the pain and seeing that look of horror and disgust on Fergie's face wasn't going to help, either.  It was foolish but his first, gut response was just that.  He wanted to be left alone.

---

The Slytherin sighed, pushing off from the main lavatory door and making his way over to the stall Sasha was currently occupying. "Are you sure? There has to be something I could do to help, and I - well, I'm not leaving you here by yourself." What if Callum came back? It wasn't too unlikely - he'd been known to do things like that, let his victim think they were finally safe only to ambush them again later. Fergie was no match for Callum, he knew that. But that didn't mean he was going to abandon his friend.

---

From behind the stall door, Sasha half expected, half hoped that he'd hear the click of a lock and the swoosh of a door that meant the Slytherin had heeded his words.  It was nothing against his fellow fifth years.  There were few Sasha would prefer to have happened upon him in his current, unfortunate state.  

Despite his hopes to be left alone, to his surprise, Sasha was also admittedly relieved when he heard footsteps cross the room to the far side of the door and the Ferguson's blunt refusal to leave him be.  

"I ... not unless you have any, you know, salve on you.  And -"  His voice trailed off but, after a moment of silence, he unlocked the stall door and stepped out.  The bruises from the punches (apparently, a simple hex ... and whatever that last spell had been weren't enough) were, undoubtedly, starting to show through as well.  He couldn't look at the mirror.

---

It was a good thing he hadn't had time to change out of his uniform. That meant that he still had his bag with him. A few weeks ago he'd required some salve himself - he wasn't sure he still had it, but it couldn't hurt to check.  "Hang on, I'll look," he told the Ravenclaw, opening the flap of his dark leather school bag and rummaging around inside.
 
 He stepped back as the stall door swung open, keeping his head down for a moment to ensure that there would be nothing in his face to upset Sasha further. Then, as his hand closed around the tube of salve at the bottom of his bag, he guardedly looked up. "Here, I -" he held it out to the other boy, breaking off as he surveyed the full extent of the damage done to the Ravenclaw's face. "Oh, Sasha." His face twisted in concern, and he had to fight the impulse to give him a comforting hug, not being certain how that gesture would be received.

---

Sasha kept his own eyes averted to his hands, neither wanting to see the damage reflected in the mirror or Fergie's face.  But, he didn't need to.  The Slytherin's full reaction was easily recognizable when the boy spoke his name.  "I'm sorry," he said, habitually, shaking his head.  

He took the tube of salve and turned it over in his hands.  After a moment, he glanced up.  "I ... what do I do with it?"

---

 Something, Fergie decided, had to be done about Callum Knight. He could not be allowed to run around giving people swirlies or hexing/pummeling perfectly nice faces like that. Not that Fergie had any idea what he, personally, could do to stop him, but...well, there had to be something! He'd think about it later. Right now he was a little busy.
 
 "You don't have to apologize, you didn't do anything," he pointed out, reaching out to put a hand on the Ravenclaw's arm. It wasn't a hug, but it was something. "I'm sorry for what Callum's done." As for the salve, well - "Here. I'll put it on, if you want."

---

The Ravenclaw continued to turn the tube over in his hands, staring at it, perplexed.  It was with obvious relief that Ferguson offered to take the task off his hands.  He held the tube out to the other boy as he shook his head.  "I'm ... I'm sure you have other things to do.  Study or ... something."  He offered in explanation for the apology. What that something might be, he wasn't sure - Fergie didn't play Quidditch so that had exhaused Sasha's usual pasttimes.  

---

"No, actually, I have plenty of time," Fergie reassured him, twisting the cap off the salve and squirting a good sized glob onto his palm before looking back up at Sasha. He'd never admit it out loud, but touching the open sores was going to take all his resolve. "And even if I didn't, like I said, I wouldn't leave you here alone. Not like this."

---

Sasha nodded, his nose wrinkling at the mucusy goop in the other boy's hand.  An unfortunate move as the scrunching of his face sent reawakened the tender nerves on his face.  In anticipation of what he assumed was the inevitable pain of the medicine on the open wounds, Sasha shut his eyes.  

"Professor..."  Unable to remember their new Care of Magical Creature's professor's name, his voice trailed off slightly.  "What a great first impression.  Missing the first class with the new Creature's professor."  The class was bound to be half over, already.

---

"I'm sure he'll understand." Fergie reached up to gingerly apply some salve to one of the nastier looking sores, figuring that he may as well jump straight into it, and that the worse they looked the more urgently they required attention. "After he hears why."

---

Anticipation often being worse than the actual event, Sasha winced as the salve was smeared across the first few sores.  But, the sting proved temporary and was followed by a welcomed, blissful numbness. "Thank you," he offered, quietly, able to accept the following applications without reacting.  "Yeah.  I'll tell him I was ill."  It was the truth.  A no-one-was-to-blame truth but a truth nonetheless.  

---

 "You're welcome." Fergie didn't bother asking why he didn't just tell the professor the truth. He'd been the victim often enough to know that the only thing this resulted in was more trouble. It sucked, but that was the way things were. "Is it helping?"

---

Sasha nodded his head.  It was, indeed, helping.  And, the more that got applied, the better it seemed to be working.  His face no longer felt like it was on fire.  "Yes," he confirmed.  "It ... the bruises will just take time."  From what Sasha had always been able to tell, Fergie was as aware of that as Sasha was.  

He was quiet a moment as Fergie continued to apply the ointment.  Finally, after a moment, he glanced at Fergie with a curious expression.  "Why don't you care?"  He asked.  There was no malice or accusation in the question - just pure curiosity.

---

"Yeah...sorry, I can't do anything for the bruises," he offered the boy an apologetic smile. But at least the salve was helping with the rest of it. It was nice to be able to help out, even if it meant having to touch the sores on the other boy's face, and scrubbing his hands for an hour when he was done. "Don't care about what?" Fergie asked absently, dabbing on a little more salve.

---

"I know," Sasha reassured the other boy with a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.  It was the closest he was liable to come to a grin given the current situation.  "It's alright.  I've had worse."  Finally, with the hope that the worst was behind him, Sasha's eyes opened and he cast a quick glance towards the mirror.  "It's not really my color, is it?" he asked, considering the unfortunate layer of goop on his face.  It was, apparently, the cost of being pain free.  

His gaze shifted back to Ferguson and he shrugged his shoulders, awkwardly, suddenly quite aware of the other boy's close proximity.  "That I'm ... you know.  A lying muggleborn?"  Normally, it wasn't a thought he gave much credit but, as that had been the motivation for the most recent round of violence, it was a hard curiosity to ignore.

---

  Now that he was done applying the salve to Sasha's face, Fergie turned on the tap at one of the sinks again, ready to wash the sticky ointment off his hands. "It's...not the best you ever looked, no," he had to admit, surveying the other boy's reflection. Then he cracked a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "I don't know...it could become the new trend. Stranger fads have happened." He could see one of the Dark twins picking it up. They were into weird.
 
 "You mean the Daily Prophet article?" He'd read it, of course. Who hadn't? He took a moment to think about his response before speaking. "What you tell your parents - or anyone else - about who and what you are is your choice and your business," he eventually said, shrugging. He knew a little something about keeping secrets himself. "Besides, from what was said about your parents, it appears you have good reason."

---

"It's probably not the worst, either," he added with a shrug.  Finally, a small grin managed to find its way all the way on Sasha's face, despite another glance in the mirror.  Just so long as no one else saw him, he could live with it.  "Fear of it actually becoming a trend's enough reason to keep hiding in here.  It ... smells," he added, pushing himself up to sit on a counter top under the window as the other boy moved back towards one of the sinks.  

Sasha nodded.  Yes, the Daily Prophet article - and, in general.  "So ... you don't think I've been lying to you?"  As the article and Knight had accused him of.  "I went to see Professor Greyfriar after, you know, the whole..."  Werewolf thing, though he still couldn't say it.  "He got angry with me.  Said he hoped I did get disowned and kicked out of Hogwarts."  The man's response had all but terrified him.  

---

"You've really had worse than this?" Fergie couldn't quite believe it. He knew Sasha was a popular target for bullies, although he couldn't understand why. What was it about the Ravenclaw that seemed to make people want to smash up his (ordinarily) pretty face? It wasn't like he went out of his way to offend people or anything. "Have you ever tried fighting back?" He inquired, curious. "I mean, I wouldn't stand a chance. At least not physically. But you're tall, and you seem to be in pretty good shape. Maybe they'd leave you alone if you just...tried decking them a couple times." And even if they didn't, well, he imagined it would still be awfully nice to punch Knight in the face, at least once.
 
 "It's not like you told me you were going to boarding school in Switzerland." Fergie shrugged again. "You just...left some things out, that's all. Omission isn't lying. Nobody tells everyone everything."
 
 Wait - Greyfriar hoped Sasha got disowned and expelled? "Is he crazy?!" the Slytherin demanded, completely incredulous. "I mean, where would you go? He can't possibly wish that on you." He shook his head vehemently. "That's just...that's horrible!"

---

Sasha shrugged as he took a closer look at his reflection and noticed a few particularly thick globs of ointment.  "Well, sometimes.  Different, I suppose.  Sometimes, it's just not practical to compare."  Sometimes, comparing injuries was easy.  A stubbed toe was not as bad as a bruised rib.  But, were angry boils worse than, say, a bruised rib?  It was hard to say - they were just ... different.  "I can't ... I don't ... I'm a pacifist," he admitted quietly.  "Besides, sometimes it doesn't happen at school."

Again, Sasha shrugged.  He still wasn't really sure what to make of Professor Greyfriar's outburst.  Even Fauna had seemed surprised by it.  "I don't know where I'd go," Sasha admitted with a shrug.  "I mean, I told my sister but she doesn't have any place to stay herself.  And, I wouldn't have any other family.  I'd be-"  Homeless and a school drop out.  How could Professor Greyfriar think that good?

---

Oh. Well that explained why he didn't hit back. Not why people felt compelled to hit him, though. Fergie knew why he got pushed around - he was a smart arse who couldn't keep his mouth shut, even when it was most advantageous to do so (like when confronted with an angry Callum). But Sasha was so...nice. It couldn't just be because he was an easy target, could it? That was stupid. Then again, thinking about the bullies around Hogwarts (and his brother, back home), it wasn't all that surprising. "I'm sorry." It was all he could think to say.  
 
 Fergie couldn't imagine anyone, let alone Professor Greyfriar, wanting Sasha to end up on his own, without anywhere to go or any prospects. That was just...it was cruel. The Slytherin turned to lean back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest and frowning. "You can't be expelled for lying to your parents." At least, he didn't think so. Godric, he hoped not. "And even if you could, we'd think of something. You have friends...between us, we'd think of something."

---

"No, I don't think she can."  From what Professor Frasier, Dreogan and Professor Bombay had all assured him of that over the last few weeks.  "She'd have a hard time explaining it to the Board of Governors since, well, they helped me get here in the first place."  No.  Expulsion for lying was unlikely.  However...  "If I get in trouble, there's no reason for her not to write home about it.  And, she's not required to lie for me.  She can't expel me but, if my parents find out, she won't have to."  

---

Fergie was beginning to realize just how precarious Sasha's position at the school was, and he found it to be...troubling. No wonder the Ravenclaw was so serious all the time! He clearly had a lot more on his plate than the Slytherin, for one, had ever imagined. One wrong move and he'd be gone. Carrying that burden around...that had to be awful. "Would they really disown you?" He slowly shook his head, not disagreeing, just trying to think. "I mean, they're your parents. They couldn't be that upset with you about it, could they?" Thinking about his own parents, and those in plenty of other pureblood families, he wasn't so sure. But maybe muggles were more lenient.

---

The Ravenclaw didn't take the question as disagreeing.  In fact, he wasn't even sure if he knew the answer to it.  He didn't doubt for a moment that, if angry enough, they'd chuck him curbside.  After all, "they disowned my sister when she was thirteen.  My grandparents took her in until she was a legal adult."  He glanced over at Fergie, watching him for a moment.  After so many years of hiding and lying, it was strange to be talking so openly about it.  And, for whatever reason, he didn't mind talking to Fergie about it as much as he would have once expected.  "And, my sister's not even a bastard child like me."  The word came out casually, without any hesitation.  He'd heard it enough at home for it to have lost its real edge.  

"I don't know.  They might disown me.  They might ..."  Sasha shook his head, chewing his lip.  He'd been over all the options in his head many times before.  "I'm the only boy in two generations. I'm the family heir and, since no one outside our immediate family knows I'm not ... my father's son ... I don't think he'd as readily chuck me out as he had Jacoba.  She's a girl.  I ... I don't know.  They believe a lot in curing the soul and reparations and penance."  Sasha grew quiet a moment before finally shaking his head.  "When I first got my letter, they ... like with most muggleborns, tried to explain to my parents.  They ... they got so angry the Ministry had to come back and modify their memories.  That's when the lies started."  

---

Thirteen? That was his sister's age! Who could possibly have done anything that warranted disinheriting at thirteen years old? "But that's so - I mean, what did she do?" He asked, unable to keep his curiosity to himself. It was just so outrageous! It was lucky her grandparents had been there. Who knows what would have happened to the girl? He heaved a mental shudder, trying to imagine his sister on her own. Stasia would forget her own head if it wasn't screwed on, she was certainly not ready to be thrown into the world and forced to take care of herself. That would have been nothing short of a catastrophe.
 
 The other little thing that Sasha let slip, so casually, sent Fergie's eyebrows shooting skyward and his eyes widening. Of course, there was plenty of that sort of thing happening in the wizarding world, too, but...well it wasn't talked about, really, except in malicious whispers. It certainly wasn't as mentioned with as little care as though one would tell someone that the grass needed cutting. "I didn't know you--    oh." Fergie broke off, blushing and trying to school his face back into something a bit less shocked. It clearly was not a subject one was supposed to ask questions about, and he didn't want to offend Sasha by saying the wrong thing.
 
 Penance. Penance for being a wizard. How did one even go about doing that? It wasn't as though Sasha did it on purpose - he was born that way! He couldn't have helped being a wizard anymore than Fergie's owl Tiberius could help growing feathers. It was ridiculous; this whole thing was ridiculous. "Why did it make them angry? I don't understand. Wouldn't it make more sense for them to be proud? You're special - you can do things not everyone else can. They should," he decided firmly, indignant on his friend's behalf, "have been proud of you."

---

"My father - step-father, I guess - and she had been at odds for years.  Have always been.  She never came home on time, always talked back."  Even after she'd been thrown from the house, they'd all crossed paths at their grandparents house.  Things certainly had only grown more awkward.  "No one had known about ... you know ... my mother's affair?  Except my mother, at least.  And, apparently, Jacoba.  One night, during a fight, she'd tossed that bit of news at him."  He'd been eight.  He remembered very clearly.  They'd been having roast pork and potatoes the night Sasha had discovered he wasn't his father's son.  

He shrugged, dismissively, when Fergie stumbled over his words, using the opportunity to distract himself by gingerly touching at the sores on his face.  Already, they were slightly smaller and much less painful to touch. There were times when Sasha wondered whether it wouldn't be better for Muggle Studies to be a required subject.  It'd certainly help people like Ferguson better understand that there were still plenty of muggles who wouldn't find the news that their only son was magical capable worthy of being proud.  "They're ... they're very religious.  Some muggles still believe, you know, the church had it right during the old days.  But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death," Sasha quoted, his gaze dropping to the floor.  


(Taken from I/M)

Sasha's parents were sounding more and more charming by the minute. If one defined 'charming' as 'oppressive and unpleasant'. Except for the fact that they apparently hated magic, he thought it sounded as though they had a lot in common with some of the purebloods he knew - certain branches of his own family included.

 "That's stupid." Fergie hoisted himself up onto the counter next to Sasha, shaking his head. "By those standards, they're just as guilty. I mean, they may not be 'sorcerors', but they've apparently told some pretty big lies themselves." And then there was the fact that he was tolerably certain infidelity fell under the category of 'sexually immoral'. But what kind of friend would point that out about someone's mother? "How can they think it okay to punish you, while getting off scot free themselves?"

---

Sasha watched Fergie as he pushed himself up on the counter next to him, a slightly lopsided grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.  He was both surprised and relieved that the other young man was continuing to choose to stay.  Since his first year, Sasha had recognized more and more similarities between muggles like his parents and purebloods like Knight.  Perhaps, it was just one of the other reasons Sasha had found muggle - mage studies interesting.  They really weren't that different. 
 
 "What do you mean by lies?"  Sasha asked, glancing at Ferguson.  He knew there were a few hypocrisies there but he wasn't sure where they'd ... outright lied.

---

 Fergie chewed his lower lip and focused his gaze on the opposite wall for a few moments as he formulated his response. "You said no one knew about the...affair, except for your mother. I know I said omission wasn't lying, but...well, that's a pretty hefty omission. A lot heftier than neglecting to inform someone you've only really been friends with for a couple months that you have to pretend you're not a wizard at home. And if they're still telling everyone that you're..." Fergie broke off, frowning. "Well, I suppose it's not a simple enough situation to classify as lying. But...your situation is just as complicated. It's not...it's just not fair." Which was the most useless and childish statement anyone could make, as he was well aware. But it was also true!

---

"That I'm not Gerhard's son?"  Sasha finished for Ferguson, shrugging his shoulders.  At home, it was a topic that wasn't supposed to be broached.  No one was supposed to know.  "I'm not sure my younger sister even knows.  She wasn't home during that fight."  This was a loose-loose situation, wasn't it?  Anyway Sasha looked at it, he had to lie.  "And, now, I'm lying to my parents.  It's...No, it's not fair.  It's just how it is, though."  Sasha shrugged his shoulders.  "I can't really do anything about it."

---

Fergie suddenly found himself deeply, deeply thankful that his own life was so relatively carefree. He'd thought he had problems, what with being bullied at school, his brother despising him (the feeling was mutual, so that wouldn't have been so bad if Marmaduke didn't insist on bullying him, too), and feeling like he didn't quite measure up to his dad's standards. But listening to Sasha, he had to admit that his problems were starting to seem inconsequential.

 "I don't understand how you manage to stay sane." Fergie turned his head to look at the other boy. By this point it was a lot easier to do so without flinching. The sores looked a lot better, even if they were covered in the goopy salve, and it wasn't like he hadn't seen bruises before. "With all that hanging over your head, the bullying, OWLs coming up, prefect duties, quidditch..." That was way more than anyone should have to handle, especially a fifteen year old. He shook his head. "I would have cracked ages ago."

---

"A lot would say it's questionable whether or not I'm sane," Sasha pointed out, a little bit more of an earnest grin settling on his face.  "I mean, I don't like to complain - so I just ... I guess it takes a lot of structure.  And, actually, now that everyone knows I'm ...  it's all gotten a little easier.  I used to have to save the muggle subjects until everyone else had gone to bed - now I can get to them any time.  I used to have to schedule subjects' studytimes based on..." 
 
 Sasha became suddenly aware of how much his current line of conversation wasn't helping his 'I'm really sane' argument.  A pinch of color rose in his cheeks and he looked down at his hands.  "Sorry.  I -"  Sasha ran his hands through his hair before glancing towards the mirror, taking a moment to make sure his hair was straight.  "Like Neely says - when she's talking to me - I'm not really good at having fun."

---

"You don't have to apologize." The Slytherin couldn't help but laugh a little, watching Sasha run his fingers through his hair before flattening it back down. It was so like something he'd do himself. And he found it...cute. "From the sound of things, it doesn't seem like you've had much time for fun. We'll have to work on that."

 Right. Neely. Who was his friend and Sasha's girlfriend. Or...had been, but the Ravenclaw hadn't known it. Or...something. It was a confusing situation, even to an outsider, but the bottom line was that it meant that Fergie should really get over the crush he was developing on the other boy. Sasha was off limits. "Is she...still not talking to you, then?" Fergie asked, glancing sideways at him.

---

Sasha chuckled and shook his head.  "I ... I have Quidditch practice marked in my schedule three nights a week.  That's my fun."  He tried.  But, once the day was over, there wasn't a lot of time - or energy.  "You're going to work on that?  You mean, you want to have fun with me?" 
 
 Oh - there were few conversation topics that were more complicated and confusing then Neely and where they were.  "I ... don't know," Sasha admitted.  "You know?  I mean, girls are so confusing.  She's talking to me.  I think.  I think we're back together, but I'm not sure.  I still can't help thinking she deserves better, you know?  I mean...she's Neely.  I'm just Sasha."  Neely had said that, too.  She knew it.

---

"Of course I want to have fun with you." Fergie shrugged, slightly surprised - that should have gone without saying, he thought. "We're friends, right? And it shouldn't be scheduled. At least, not always. Being impetuous is half the fun of...well, of having fun." Of course, with Sasha's free time being so limited, impetuosity might be a bit difficult to achieve.

 "I don't have any experience with girls, relationship-wise, so I've never really found them all that confusing. It's not something I've had to worry about." And unless something drastically changed, he wouldn't have to. For which he was thankful - he loved Neely and Jordyn and his other female friends, but Godric they could be moody.

 So they were back together. Possibly. See? Off limits. But... "Wait, what do you mean, just Sasha?" Fergie demanded, eyebrows going up. Did he honestly think he wasn't good enough for Neely? "There's nothing wrong with being 'just' you. You're intelligent, funny, and good looking - well, when you haven't had your face practically hexed off, anyway. You dress well, you have excellent manners, and to top it all off you're a genuinely nice guy!" His cheeks flushed pink, hoping that maybe, oblivious as he was, the Ravenclaw wouldn't understand why he felt so strongly on this matter. Friends encouraged their friends to think better of themselves, didn't they? "Sasha, you're a catch. Neely's just as lucky, if not more so, to have you. Don't put yourself down."

---

Perhaps the reassurance shouldn't have been so surprising but it was.  Sasha was used to being asked to tutor people - most of his classmates knew he was usually too wrapped up with studies and homework.  It usually took things like Neely claiming her cat was dead to get him out.  "I ... yeah.  I'm not that good at being impetuous." 
 
 "Oh," Sasha said, glancing curiously at Ferguson.  He didn't have experience?  Of course, that couldn't be that strange.  After all, how much experience did Sasha have before this past summer?  "Well, if you're anything like me, you'll probably worry about it a lot soon.  I ... it's so confusing.  You know, this first year stole my Chemistry textbook and she ... I think she has a crush.  On me.  Is that strange?"  Talking girls wasn't something Sasha got to do a lot - misinterpreting Ferguson's lack of experience entirely. 
 
 Sasha shrugged, taking Fergie's peptalk at face value - encouraging him in his pursuit of Neely.  "You think so?  I mean - I know she was angry when she said that.  I guess, I should have known we were dating, but it was complicated.  She knew, you know.  About the lie.  She met my younger sister and told her we were dating.  She got jealous of my the girl I said I was dating in Switzerland."

---

"I...." Fergie opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. It would have been easy to broach the topic of his preference now- Sasha'd unknowingly offered him the perfect introduction. But he had no idea how the Ravenclaw would take it, or what awkward and potentially disastrous questions it would lead him to ask. The slight blush in his cheeks heightened, and he cleared his throat before speaking again. "I guess I will," he finally lied, looking away so he didn't have to meet Sasha's eyes.

 The first year's crush was a much safer topic, and Fergie latched onto it eagerly, with a relieved sigh. "I don't think it's strange. It's kind of sweet, actually. Is that the girl who threatened to tell on Bella yesterday? Your knight in shining...pigtails." Glancing over at the other boy, Fergie grinned and leaned over to playfully bump his shoulder against Sasha's.

 "I'm sure she didn't mean it. She couldn't have." He shook his head. Neely was conceited, not stupid. "People say all kinds of things they don't mean when they're angry. I don't think that it's your fault that you didn't know, either." This was...a precarious statement to make. If it got back to Neely, Fergie was going to be in so much trouble. He'd just have to hope that Sasha wouldn't mention it. "Did you guys ever actually talk about it? With each other, not your sister."

(also taken from IM)

The other boy's awkwardness wasn't lost on Sasha though, perhaps, the reason for it was.  It was easy to reason that this was just ... an awkward conversation.  There was no question Sasha found the topic of girls immensely confusing and baffling.  "Just be careful," he muttered aloud, as much to himself as to Fergie.  "Carter might drag you in the girl's loo for a private lesson."  That.  Had.  Been.  Awful.  The whole trying to practice making out with Freya had only made it worse. 

While much of it might have been lost amidst the (granted smaller) lesions and bruises on the Ravenclaw's face, mention of Sasha's 'knight' and the subsequent elbow bump had brought a significant bout of color to the young man's face.  "Um...yeah, Eirene.  In the pigtails."  She was a cute girl - like many first years.  "She was ... the one I swam across the lake when she fell over during the boat ride across.  That's probably confused her."  Infatuations with one's saviour weren't unheard of.  "I'd recommend thinking twice before rescuing any first years." 

"I don't know." which was the truth.  Sasha had said it first, after all.  "Well... no."  He'd pondered this question a few times before.  Had Neely said something that he'd, somehow, missed?  "I don't think so, at least.  I mean, we'd sneaked to the kitchens for some cocoa and she seemed to think it was ... you know ... a date but ... apparently she thought we were already dating?"  Slowly, Sasha shook his head before glancing at Fergie.  "I'm sure you'll get dragged into the confusing mire soon, too.  I managed to stay out of it until this year.  Then, Ava kissed me and it all just ..."  he stuck his hands out, pantomiming something falling.  Or melting.  Or some combination of the two.

 "Private lessons..." Fergie repeated, turning a curious face to the Ravenclaw. "In the girls loo? That..." Trying to picture Sasha there of all places was difficult. Somehow, Fergie couldn't imagine that he'd been very comfortable with the setting. And really, what an odd place to choose. What was wrong with the boys lavatory? "That had to be, um, interesting." To say the least. "Did he teach you anything useful?"

  No wonder the first year had looked vaguely familiar, he'd recognized her from the welcome feast. Of course, at the time, she'd looked a lot less like an engaging first year and more like a drowned rat. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, in response to Sasha's bit of advice, grinning. "I've never really made a habit of rescuing people, though. Not until yesterday, that is," he was forced to add, thinking back over the events of the past twenty-four hours.

 Given his lack of experience, Fergie wasn't really the best person to offer advice on the subject of relationships. Particularly with girls. But... "I thought in order to be, you know, officially dating, you had to discuss it. Specifically." Was that wrong? It couldn't be. How could people be dating when one of them didn't know? Sasha was right. It was confusing. "I don't know. I don't envy you, there." He shook his head.  "But, for someone so confused, you seem to be doing all right for yourself," Fergie pointed out. "That's four people that seem to have some kind of interest in you." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Neely, Ava, Eirene, and..." Me. That was what he'd been about to add. Salazar Slytherin - it was a good thing he'd caught himself. He cleared his throat, trying to suppress the bright blush that was threatening to overtake his face, and made a quick attempt at a cover up. "Did I say four? Three. I meant...I meant three."

In retrospect (in the safety of the locked boy's loo with no one there but Fergie), the whole affair with George and the girls' loo was mildly amusing.  In that way only embarrassing things could be amusing.  "Yeah," he confirmed.  Maybe it was interesting.  But, mostly: "It was horrible.  He was trying to help me ... figure things out with Neely.  You know - because I'm horrible with girls?  He was ... trying to give me ... well - flirting tips.  But - Freya was there.  He tried ... to get me to practice." 

It was a nightmare come true.  "It was mortifying.  And, I was just as hopeless."  Which was the sad truth.   

"I ... well, I'm not sure."  He would have assumed, at some point, there would have been some sort of Alert - we are now dating message somewhere.  Just to help ensure these kinds of confusions didn't occur.  "Well, I'm sure you'll be in the same boat soon," Sasha said with a shrug.  Surely, if the likes of Sasha was already neck deep in drama, it was almost certain to find Ferguson soon. "Four?" Sasha repeated, glanced curiously at Fergie, his eyes wide as he listed off the names.  "Ava?  Oh - I don't ... we're not ... she's a good friend.  But, I don't think she - I'm sure she doesn't - she's a seventh year.  That kiss had been strategy."  Nothing more.  He assumed.  Ava had been another of those Slytherins that, prior to this year, seemed to have ignored him.  But, now, she was one of his closest friends, despite her unpredictable mood. 

Even with her, though, that was still three.  Fergie's attempts to cover up that misspeak were a bit too transparent though Sasha's assumption was that Fergie knew of someone else though it was, clearly, a secret.  "There's someone else?" he asked, almost in quiet resignation.  He'd managed to miss the cues from a first year - he wouldn't be surprised if he was so dating-inept he'd missed it from someone else.  "Is it another Slytherin?" he asked.

Sasha offered Fergie a half grin before nodding his head and looking down at the floor again.  "Yeah, thanks.  For that.  I don't ... I'm not sure what she was so angry about.  I mean, I know - I ... my bean hit her desk in class."  Could she really be that petty?  "I don't really know what she was going to do but ... thanks for standing up for me."  Sasha was well aware that, had it just been him facing Bellatrix, she very well may have followed through on whatever hex she'd been planning. 

Fergie bit back a bark of laughter at the thought of Sasha receiving flirting lessons. "Sorry." He favored the other boy with a sheepish grin. "I was just...picturing it. And - you have mentioned before that you needed lessons in 'shoe'." Somehow, he didn't think that had been quite what Sasha had had in mind. But it was still funny. "Anyway, I wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you. Some people find a certain degree of social awkwardness to be charming." He, personally, found it to be adorable.

As for Bella..."I don't think she had a reason to be angry." Fergie had shared a common room with the girl for over four years now. That had been ample enough time to realize that she existed outside the realm of rational thought. "I'm pretty sure she just randomly selects a person to hate and torments them for a while before choosing someone else. You just happened to enter her line of vision at the wrong time or something."

 Why hadn't he just kept his mouth shut? At least Sasha hadn't been able to guess who the fourth person was, but guessing that it was a Slytherin was close enough to heighten Fergie's blush.  "Yes. But-" he shook his head, throwing Sasha a slightly frantic look, "don't ask who. It's...I can't tell you. It'd only cause trouble. You have plenty of that already." Hopefully the Ravenclaw's desire to avoid more relationship drama would be enough to quell any curiosity he might have, and the topic would end there.

 Except, of course, for the way Sasha kept mentioning that he was sure Fergie'd be in the same boat soon. These were dangerous waters. Usually, he was pretty good at talking his way out of trouble, but this was...different. He wasn't even sure that he wanted to hide it. Maybe Sasha would understand, or maybe he already knew. Most people seemed to just guess, and Sasha was smarter than most people. Of course, that was the problem with telling him to begin with. He already knew that there was another Slytherin that liked him and given what Fergie'd said earlier about him being a catch and all, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out who that Slytherin was.
 
 "Look, I...I don't think I have to worry about that anytime soon. The relationship thing." He hopped off the counter, turning to face the mirror so he could avoid looking at the other boy under the pretext of fiddling with his hair. "And even if I do, it'll be different for me. I'm not like you." After a moment he realized that could be taken the wrong way, and hastened to add, "Not because I think you're 'just Sasha'. But because...the people I've ended up being interested in. I haven't been their type."

A slight grin found its onto Sasha's features though its growth was largely limited by the bruises on his face - there was only so far his mouth could move without hurting.  "They find it ... charming?"  So, that was his downfall?  Who would have thought? 

Of course, matters involving this secret admirer were far more intriguing and interesting than Bellatrix' tantrum about a stray bean.  And, what little Fergie had to say was definitely intriguing.  "I'd have trouble?"  What sense did that make?  How would Fergie telling him cause trouble for him?  Sasha might be socially (and shoe-linguistically) naive, but he knew that was illogical.  Just as the rest of what Fergie had to say was.  "I ... why wouldn't you - but, I bet lots of girls would like you.  I don't see how you could be there type.  You're good looking," if a bit on the not-quite-athletic side.  "You're nice.  Who are you interested in?  How do you know they aren't your type?"  After all, who would have thought Neely of all people would be his type?  Or Ava Grosvenor?

---

 "Well...it wouldn't be your trouble, exactly," he corrected himself, giving his hair a rest and moving on to straighten his tie. Looking presentable was important, after all, and concentrating on straightening out his attire offered a slight distraction. "But you'd get caught in the middle of it. Better to just leave it alone, don't you think?"
 
 Of course, the way this conversation was going, it looked like some sort of trouble was going to be unavoidable. Brilliant. At least Sasha had said he was good looking. That was...something, wasn't it? Not exactly an indication of interest (and Fergie wasn't stupid enough to really expect one), but at least he knew he didn't completely repulse the other boy. Made the whole thing a little bit easier. Fergie cleared his throat and rested his hands on the smooth surface of the counter top, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Lots of girls would like me," he repeated, glancing up at Sasha, then back down at the counter. "That's... kind of the problem. I'm, um...I'm not interested in girls."

---

Sasha's eyebrows knitted together as he watched the other boy fiddling with his tie.  What was all of that supposed to mean?  And, why on earth would it make Fergie fidget?  It had nothing to do with him.  Unless, Sasha supposed, someone found out he spilled the beans.  Sasha could see how someone, like Neely, would get upset.  "Good point," he conceded, nodding his head.  He still didn't get it but, perhaps, it was best if he followed Fergie's lead.  After all, Fergie had avoided dealing with angry Neelys and first years fighting.  He was, clearly, doing better than Sasha. 

Really, Fergie wasn't getting any less confusing.  He seemed so worried and it seemed like it was such a ... small problem.  "Well, that's okay," Sasha said with a shrug.  Okay - maybe it might be a little embarrassing, but Sasha was hardly the one to go pointing fingers. 

---

 It was...okay? Fergie blinked and looked up. He'd been prepared for- well, he wasn't sure what, exactly, but not that. "It is?" The surprise he felt was obvious on his face. "You mean it?" He let the air out of his lungs in a whoosh as the tension in his shoulders eased and shook his head, a slight grin sliding into place. He'd been so worried and to find out that he hadn't needed to be, "I have to admit, that's definitely a relief."

---

Sasha shrugged, his eyebrows arched.  "Sure, of course.  Why ... would - there's nothing wrong with that."  The degree of relief seemed strange but Sasha supposed he could relate.  All this relationship - this girls suddenly becoming girls stuff could be stressful and awkward.  "I mean, it's not really any of my business, I know.  It doesn't really effect me, I know - I'm not sure why you were worried I wouldn't be okay with it."

---

 Were it not for the open sores, sticky salve, and bruises covering Sasha's face at the moment, Fergie could have kissed him. In fact, he was tempted to even with all that, but, well, he didn't want to push his luck. It was just that it was such a nice contrast to guys like Callum, who acted like he was some kind of unnatural freak who might take advantage of them in the dorms at night. "I...thank you," he settled for telling the other boy warmly. "It's just that not everyone is as nice about it, you know? I didn't know how you'd react."
 
 There was just one snag. One tiny little snag. Did Sasha honestly not realize the full extent of what this confession meant? Fergie chewed his lip, debating with himself for a moment. "Well..." So far Sasha had understood. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just be completely honest. And wasn't it better to get it all over with at once? Like ripping off a bandaid. "It does sort of effect you, a little," he admitted, the flush flaring back up in his cheeks, although he maintained eye contact this time. "Or...it could."

---

It was rather remarkable.  Sasha had never pegged Fergie as more of a worrier than he was but this was proving him wrong.  He knew the other boy got a fair bit of bullying and ... well, now that Sasha thought about it.  Being a late bloomer around those Fergie shared a dorm with was probably very different than being the same around Peyton.  Still - he never suspected Fergie would think anything Sasha would do would be analogous to the likes of them.  "It's really not that big of a deal." 

Then ... things started getting weird and confusing again.  Sasha looked back at Fergie, his eyebrows furrowing yet again.  "How so?" he asked, simply.  "What do you mean?"

---

 "Because," Fergie's heart had sped up and, he was certain, was now beating at a volume that could easily have been heard outside the bathroom. But, well, there was no turning back now, was there? "The fourth person, the other Slytherin..." He took a deep breath - inhale, exhale. Godric he hoped this didn't end badly. "It's me, Sasha. I like you."

---

Though there was no real reason for Sasha to be aware of it, the Ravenclaw was finally becoming increasingly aware of the tension in the room.  Then, Fergie spoke.  Offering an explanation.  Sasha stared at Fergie a moment, his eyes blinking rapidly.  Was it possible?  Had Fergie misunderstood him that much?  Surely, he must have.  The alternative was ... he was surprised Fergie had confused it that much.  "No - wait.  I mean, those three ... Neely, Ava and Eirene.  They like me like ... have a crush.  Well, I assume Eirene does.  If first years have crushes.  I know I didn't"  His voice was light, casual, even a little on the amused side - though with just enough lightness to reveal his uncertainty about his own words.

---

"I know that." His blush heightened, although he had to admit he was a little puzzled. What did Sasha think he meant?  He'd been pretty clear. Or at least, he'd thought he had. "I thought you understood..."

---

"But ... then...why did you say..."  Sasha pursed his lips and shook his head.  Suddenly, he wasn't sure he wanted to ask.  He wished conversations had a manuscript.  This was why studying was so much easier than figuring out if Neely and he were dating.  During class, he took notes.  Immaculate notes, in fact.  If something didn't make sense, he could go back and reread it - puzzle it out until it did.  Clearly, he'd missed some key part of this conversation but he didn't have a clue what.  "I'm confused," he admitted, shaking his head.  He wasn't sure he wanted to be enlightened.

---

This was not the time or the place that Fergie would have selected, if given a choice, to confess his feelings for the Ravenclaw. In fact, he could think of very few settings that would fall below this on the list. But at least they were alone, with no chance of anyone interrupting. Which also meant there was no chance of anyone witnessing the rejection Fergie knew he'd ultimately be facing. Perhaps it was knowing this that gave him an unexpected bit of bravery, but he suddenly felt compelled to do something. Nothing ventured nothing gained, right? 
 
 "Well," he hesitantly stepped closer to the Ravenclaw, the shaky note in his voice betraying how nervous he was, "let me clear that up for you." And with that, he leaned forward, attempting to catch the other boy's lips in a kiss, while at the same time doing his best to avoid making contact with the rest of Sasha's face. It was stupid, as he was well aware, but at least later he could say he had honestly tried.

---

There was a whole myriad of possible explanations that Fergie could have offered and many of them found their way into Sasha's mind.  None of them - no matter how strange or outrageous - came remotely close to what happened. 

Sasha froze, every muscle becoming as tense and rigid as any iron statue in any city square as the other boy shifted closer.  Without warning (or perhaps there'd been a right plethora of warnings that he'd merely overlooked), a pair of lips ... boy's lips ... were pressed against his own.  His breath caught in his chest and he remained completely, utterly, totally motionless.

---

  Fergie hadn't really known what to expect, when he'd leaned in. He'd never kissed anyone before, and had half-assumed Sasha would push him away before he'd make close enough to do so now. But he hadn't. It was surprising, and, even without the other boy kissing him back, kind of thrilling. He'd felt a spark of...something (was that the fireworks everyone always talked about?), upon making contact, and Sasha's lips felt every bit as nice as they'd looked. Plus, with his eyes closed, he couldn't see the layer of goopy salve that coated the Ravenclaw's face. He could still smell it, but that somehow didn't seem important. A few seconds ticked by (although it felt longer, at least to him), and eventually Fergie pulled away. His face was now a brilliant shade of red, and he stepped back, gaze aimed firmly at his feet as he waited for Sasha to do...something.

---

That strange, awkward, entirely confusing moment felt like it lasted an eternity.  It ... it was, perhaps, the most terrifying thing he'd ever experienced.  This was ... this couldn't be happening!  But, it was.  He might have even tried to convince himself it hadn't happened if it weren't for the feel of the ... the other boy's lips on his own.  "I ... I don't - I don't understand."  His voice broke slightly as he shook his head.  The other boy was staring at the floor.  Even in his shocked confusion, Sasha was aware of how miserable the other boy looked. 

But ... but, of course, that wasn't Sasha's fault!  He wasn't the one who'd ... who'd gone and done that!  It was ... that was ... Sasha didn't know.  All he knew was how ... how wrong that had been.  Disgusting, even!  What did Fergie take him for?  "What ... what are you playing at?" he asked.

---

  He'd known that the kiss would bring consequences, and that he probably wasn't going to like what those consequences were. But the expression on Sasha's face when Fergie dared to glance up at him still hurt, and the accusation...that he'd been playing at something, it still made him flinch. He couldn't honestly think this was a game to Fergie. Sasha knew him better than that, didn't he?
 
 "I'm sorry," he offered quietly after a minute, still looking down at his feet. "I know I shouldn't have, but..." He trailed off, ending the statement with a helpless shrug.

---

Most of the time, Sasha was quite proud of his abilities to use reason and logical problem solving skills.  He excelled in Arithmancy and Runes for a reason.  But, there was no doubt that with just cause, Sasha could be dense as a black hole lined with blown insulation.  This - this was one of those times.  But, even now, the defensive, blinkered walls around his eyes were starting to crumble.  That little bit of naivity was still there, but it was lying, twitching in its death throws on the floor. 

"You're ... you're serious?" he asked, again only half-wanting the answer.  His mouth was bone dry; he felt like he was eating cotton.  "You - you have a ... you know?  Crush.  On me?"  Even before the other boy answered, the pieces of the puzzle were finally starting to fall together.  The Ravenclaw in him was quickly following the trails of seemingly random comments, awkward pauses and even ... Sasha realized ... Fergie's willingness to overlook the sores on his face to apply the salve.

"I'm ... I'm sorry," he shook his head, quickly, his face scrunching painfully.  "It's ... it's wrong.  No." 

 "I...yes," Fergie admitted quietly, glancing up at the Ravenclaw and quickly away again, stomach feeling as though it were tied up in several rather complicated knots. He wished he had a time turner, so he could go back and stop himself from getting into this mess. So his first kiss wasn't in a bathroom, with someone so obviously unwilling and covered in various injuries and goop. So Sasha wouldn't be looking at him like that, and he didn't have to walk out of this knowing he'd messed up his friendship with the Ravenclaw for a chance he'd never really had at something else.

 But it was too late to take any of it back now. He was pretty sure that kiss was a big enough clue that not even Sasha could ignore it, whatever Fergie said now. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair - well, if he was going to do this, he may as well go all out. "A...a pretty big one, actually," he added to his last statement, biting his lip and forcing himself to look at the other boy. "I mean, I tried not to. I know you have...Neely." Oh Godric, he didn't even want to think about how he was going to explain all this to her. "But...well, I wasn't lying when I said you were a catch. You are. And I... I think you're kind of amazing. The more I got to know you, the harder it was not to like you. And...come on, Sasha," His gaze turned slightly pleading. "Haven't you ever liked someone, even though you knew it was hopeless? Surely you can understand at least that."

  Of course, telling him all this only made hearing the other boy's response that much worse, when it came. Which it soon did. Fergie blinked rapidly and quickly ducked his head, folding his arms and hugging them tightly to his torso as he tried to collect himself and keep how much that stung from showing in his face. Just a few minutes ago he'd thought, had actually been convinced, that Sasha was different. That he accepted Fergie for who and what he was. To find out he'd been mistaken about that, on top of everything else, was extremely disappointing and disheartening, and...and frustrating!

 "Why is it wrong?" he demanded after a few moments, voice a little shaky but carrying enough of an edge to indicate that it was less of a question and more of a disagreement. "Did your parents tell you that, too?" They seemed to think themselves such an authority on what was right and wrong in the world, he wouldn't be surprised. "I'm not hurting anyone. I'm not...I'm not doing anything, except taking an interest in the kind of person I...wasn't expected to. I care about you. What is so bloody wrong with that?"

This ... this couldn't be happening.  This was ... how was this ... Ferguson Amherst had a crush on him.  Sasha reached up to rub his face but managed to remember the thin film of goop on his face just before sinking his fingertips into it.  What?  What had he done?  How did he manage to get afflicted with ... with this curse?  As if things weren't complicated enough just trying to navigate Neely.  And Ava.  And, the rest of it all.  Now ... this? 

Under normal circumstances, watching the air of defeat settle over Fergie would have brought a wave of guilt but Sasha was far too distracted with trying to figure out everything for that emotion to register.  However, it was just discomforting enough to compel Sasha to look down at his own hands.  A really big one?  What ... what exactly was that supposed to mean?  He didn't know crushes came in sizes.  Nor was now really the time to find himself trying to evaluate the relative size of his crush on Neely.  He liked her and they were now dating.  Again.  For real this time.  Wasn't that enough?  "Yes.  I'm with Neely."  Why was he even having to point that out right now?  He was in the boy's loo - he shouldn't be having to insist on that in here.  He shouldn't have to be trying to ignore strings of compliments from his fellow boy's loo users.

"I ... I ... maybe?"  Sasha shook his head.  Whether or not he had liked someone he thought it hopeless seemed entirely unrelated to the current issue.  "Not really?"  Which, perhaps, was the truth.  He wasn't sure he'd really be interested in any of the girls in his year.  Not, at least, until Neely.  And, yes, for a while he'd thought it was hopeless but ... well, they had supposedly been an item that whole time.  What he'd thought was hopeless was actually occurring while he thought it was hopeless.  He wasn't sure if that counted.  "But, that's not ... you're ... that's not the same thing.  Liking Neely, even when I thought I didn't stand a chance was ... well ... at least supposed to happen.  This ... it's ... just inappropriate.  I ... no - I don't understand this." 

Fergie looked miserable.  If he weren't so distracted by his own ... current predicament, Sasha would have certainly felt guilty and sympathetic.  During those days he'd waited for his sister's response to his 'I'm A Wizard' letters, he'd expected to feel very much the same when she'd sworn him off the way he'd been dreading she might.  But, given the predicament, Sasha found it near impossible to relate that situation with this.  They could not be analogous in his head at the moment. 

"What does that have to do with it?" he, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.  What, exactly, did his parents saying it have to do with any of this?  "Just because they wouldn't approve of my being a wizard doesn't mean their wrong about everything."  If everything else was the same, nothing would be wrong about this.  But - they weren't the same.  And, Sasha couldn't believe he was having to spell it out.  "You're ... you're a boy."  Sasha said, almost pleading with Fergie to understand.  "It's just wrong ... it's not normal." 

This was why he'd never confessed a crush before (not that he'd had all that many), and why he told himself sternly, right then and there, that he never would again, not unless he was certain the outcome would be in his favor. Rejection was depressing. It didn't even help that he'd been prepared for it - it still felt just as badly as he'd anticipated. Worse, even. There was this hollow, achey feeling in the general vicinity of his heart, and it wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. It sucked.

 "I just said I know that," he snapped, more irritated with himself for getting into this mess than he was with Sasha. And...well, he knew it was awful, but Fergie found himself sort of hating the Slytherin girl at that moment. What was so special about Neely, anyway? Sure, she was pretty, in that blonde, girly way. If you liked that sort of thing. And she could be charming. And...this line of thought wasn't helping. "I'm not asking you to choose me over her. I'm well aware that isn't going to happen. I'm not an idiot." Well, not a complete one, anyway.

 Although he was beginning to change his mind about that, especially as Sasha continued speaking. The Slytherin's shoulders sagged; he suddenly felt very, very tired. "Are you even trying to understand?" he asked quietly, lowering himself to the floor, one leg stretched out as he slumped against the wall behind him. "It's...it's the same emotion, Sasha. Feeling this way about you instead of Jordyn or Evie or...or whoever, it doesn't change the fact that I do feel this way. It's exactly the same." Except, of course, Sasha had wound up dating Neely in the end. Again. Fergie wasn't going to get a shiny, fairy tale style ending. He was willing to bet that the Ravenclaw would probably avoid him from now on, and Neely was going to hate him. The best he could hope for was Jordyn's sympathetic ear and a shared tub of ice cream. Godric, what a day.
 
 He probably shouldn't have mentioned the other boy's parents. That had the potential to spawn off an entire argument of its own, family generally being a touchy issue for most people. Fergie didn't want to make Sasha angry, that wasn't his goal here. He just wanted the other boy to understand. So he bit his tongue, holding back the sarcastic retort about what shining beacons of morality Sasha's parents seemed to be, and shook his head, shrugging that particular issue aside.

 "What do you mean, it's not normal?" he wanted to know, examining his hands as they sat in his lap. Who even got to decide that? It wasn't like there was a committee with a check list. No one voted on it. And what was so great about being like everyone else, anyway? "In some societies, cannibalism is normal. Or... or offering up human sacrifices. Normality doesn't make a thing right or wrong. It just makes it...common."

 Fergie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. He was going to have a head ache by the time this conversation was over, he could tell. "Look," he said slowly, chewing his lower lip and frowning thoughtfully up at the other boy, "If I... If I were like, say, Callum. And I limited who I let myself care about based on...on race, or blood purity, or financial status. You'd think that was wrong, wouldn't you? So why should I limit myself based on gender?"

Sasha flinched when the other boy snapped and quickly dropped his gaze to his shoes.  If the frustration hadn't been directed at him, that minor detail was lost on the Ravenclaw.  And - it wasn't even his fault!  He hadn't asked for this - he hadn't done anything to encourage it.  This ... there was no reason for him to feel guilty or apologetic.  This ... wasn't his fault!  And, of course there was no way Sasha would choose him over Neely!  It just ... was wrong.

"What's there to understand?" Sasha quickly asked, shaking his head.  "It's not - it's not the same.  I -"  And, despite his best intentions, that's where his argument fell flat. He didn't have any logical retort or rebuttal - and, despite his best intentions, he couldn't convince himself he did.  He stared at Fergie as the other boy slid to the floor, shaking his head.  Actually, Sasha couldn't meet any of the boy's arguments with anything that resembled an effective retort and it was ... it was unsettling.  And frustrating.

And, more than he could deal with at the moment.

Sasha shook his head, his gaze on his feet again.  "I'm - I've ... I've got to go.  Homework."  In the absence of a rebuttal, avoidance was the next best strategy.  Really, hiding in the Ravenclaw dorms, hunched behind a textbook seemed an excellent idea right now.  Quickly, Sasha moved past the Slytherin and gave the locked door a futilely tug.  Hastily, he grabbed the key and turned it, this time successfully pushing through into the hall and around the corner.