Entry tags:

character: adriana fawcett-edgecombe, character: julien malfoy, character: nigel longbottom, fic, game: the cold war, set2music

[Fic] Bent: Chapter 1
Title: Bent
Fandom: Potterverse AU
Pairing: None yet
Rating: PG so far
Author's Note: This story is based on characters and situations inspired by the game The Cold War. Many thanks are due to players from that game for answering questions and supplying help with their characters as I worked on this piece.
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor gain anything from, the world of Harry Potter. That belongs to JK Rowling. I just like to write in it, and Nigel, Julien, and Adriana are mine all mine and live in my head.

Chapter 1

Year One

I've got that lefty curse
where everything I do is
flipped and awkwardly reversed
-- The Academy Is...

The Longbottom family had managed to earn a reputation for excellence at Hogwarts.

Nigel, the youngest of the Longbottom children, ignored everything his father had done during the war and instead blamed his eldest sister Neah. She had blazed through the school as a Gryffindor with her father's bravery, yet she was a far more outgoing and naturally effervescent child than Neville had ever been. Her intelligence matched her mother Luna's, and she had gained popularity when her mother's ghost followed her to the school. As a star Seeker on the Quidditch team, she helped take her house to the glory of the House Cup the last four years she was at the school. Neah had left an indelible stamp on her house, and a difficult legacy to follow.

But when the next Longbottom child, the first of Neville and his second wife, Hermione, entered the school, she had no difficulty living up to the standard Neah had set. Nor did her sisters. While none of the other girls flew for Quidditch, Shannon and Rosemary were both active in the fledgling academic leagues that had sprung up between the European magical schools. And Heather proved she had her father's green thumb and her mother's intelligence by working with on an independent study in her fourth year to develop new crossbreeds and methods of growth in Herbology.

By the time Nigel came to Hogwarts, everyone expected great things. After all, this was Neville's only son. He would be as brave as his father, as smart as his mother, and likely surpass the greatness that his elder sisters were creating. Shannon was head girl, Heather was on to a second independent study, and Rosemary had just returned from two weeks special study in France at Beauxbatons.

And so, on that first day, Nigel stood on the station platform, waiting for the train and shaking in his shoes. It wasn't that he didn't believe in his heritage. He read voraciously, and knew he would have no difficulty with the expected work. For the last year Neah had been ignoring the fact that Nigel had never particularly liked heights the way she did and telling him for the last year that he ought to go out for Quidditch, as he was slight and quick on a broom. But as uncertain as he was about that, Nigel was desperately nervous over how he would figure out his own place at the school, and not remain in the shadows of his elder sisters.

At that moment, his sisters were giggling with their friends, far away from where he waited with the bags. Shannon was with the seventh year students, of course, and Heather was somehow in the midst of a gaggle of fifth year boys as she blushed prettily at their attentions. Rosemary huddled with third year girls, practicing small hexes that she knew she oughtn't, but couldn't resist tossing at Heather's feet to see if she could embarrass her. Nigel's mother and father were talking to other adults, and Nigel was, for the moment, on his own.

When the train came, it was a rush to embark, and amidst a flurry of kisses and hugs, Nigel quickly found himself alone in a compartment, where he managed to make himself feel nearly invisible as he settled in, intending to read for the entire trip.

It wasn't that there weren't children that he knew. He had his siblings, of course, and there were a smattering of others. He knew Seph Pucey, the youngest of Adrian and Ginny, and someone he considered close to a cousin. But Seph was in Slytherin, and was a third year, and wasn't likely to stoop to taking care of an ickle firstie on the first day when he had mates to catch up with. Or there was Alicia Weasley, Charlie's youngest daughter, also a first year, but she was closeted cheerily with Adriana Fawcett-Edgecombe, and Nigel knew better than to interrupt gossiping girls, no matter how much they had played together as tots.

And the worst, of course, was Julien. Out of all of them, he likely knew Julien Malfoy the best. After all, his mother and Draco had struck up their unlikely friendship long before even Shannon was born. So when Draco finally took Gabrielle Delacour to wife, and eventually (after much difficulty on Draco's part) produced a child, that child became almost as much of a part of the Longbottom household as the natural born children, despite Neville's dislike of the father. Draco had little interest in his son save as something pretty to be dressed and taken out. And Gabrielle had never wanted to marry Draco (nor endure his limited attentions). So the child was spoiled, cherished, and ignored, and Hermione Longbottom had taken it upon herself to ensure that the child had at least something of a childhood.

Nigel grew up hating Julien.

He could never seem to escape him, as the boy was at his home almost as often as he was with Draco and Gabrielle. And Hermione treated him as she did any of her children, with love and tenderness, a sometimes sharp tongue for transgression, and liberal timeouts when the Malfoy attitude asserted itself, as it often did. When Neah dragged all of her siblings into the air for flying lessons, Julien went right along with the Longbottoms, showing that blood did run true in that respect; the boy flew like he was meant to sit a broom. But then, so did Nigel, flying brilliantly despite a loathing of heights. And Julien, in his infinite competitiveness, goaded Nigel into flying further and higher, until he pushed Nigel to the point where the younger by one month boy determined never to fly with Julien again. Which would only last until his sisters wanted a "quick game of Quidditch" and then there they all would be on brooms once more, and the competition would begin all over again.

The door to his compartment startled him out of his reading revery. Didn't that figure? Think of the devil, and there he was, sliding the door closed behind him and slouching down onto the bench opposite Nigel.

"I find it amazing how well you hide, Longbottom," Julien looked at him, as if the darkening purple around his left eye weren't anything odd. "Do you know I think I've been past every compartment before I happened upon this one?"

Nigel carefully placed his bookmark and set the book on the seat next to him. "Were you looking for me?" The proper question would be "Why?" but he was certain he'd find out soon enough. Whatever use Julien had for him, he wouldn't stand his company longer than need be.

Julien's full lips pursed, "I just said as much. I know you've lost your mind in those books of yours, but do try to keep up." He withdrew his wand and placed a careful lock on the compartment door. It wouldn't hold if anyone with any actual schooling tried to open it, but would keep casual entrants away. "I know that you've managed to learn a spell or three since you got your wand last July. So you'll heal this for me." He gestured at the darkening skin, grey gaze daring Nigel to say no. Or ask why.

Which did nothing to deter Nigel. "Why should I bother? I'm not your trained lapdog, Malfoy."

"Because if I'm seen coming from the same compartment as you with this," a quick flick of graceful fingers indicated the bruise once more, "your esteemed mother, our Professor of Charms, will want to know why. And you'd rather not have your first day at school be marred by parental intrusion or argument, I'm certain." He crossed his arms, one eyebrow arched. "Am I correct?"

It wouldn't be so bad as that. But there would be questions, and it would be noticed, and as the last of the Longbottom clan to enter Hogwarts, he didn't really want any more notice than he already had. "Fine," he agreed. "But you'll need to come over here." He moved his bag, clearing space upon the bench.

With a faint roll of his eyes, Julien did as requested, slouching next to Nigel. "Does it please you to order a Malfoy about, Longbottom?"

"You requested the service, so the least you can do is make my job simpler," Nigel replied mildly. He withdrew his wand, working to remember the simple spell for easing bruises. He had actually learned it long ago, after having had it applied so terribly many times during his clumsy childhood (his mother swore he gained what lack of grace he had from his father), but he had never been able to cast it on his own until he had received his sturdy oak wand for his birthday.

"Very well," Julien said, then went still under Nigel's touch.

Nigel carefully looked over the bruise, a swatch of blue and purple against skin which was naturally pale. Julien's appearance had always had an ethereal quality, with Malfoy and Veela blood combined, and this injury leant stark reality to his countenance, grounding him somehow. Nigel pushed Julien's chin length fringe back from his face so he could test the boundaries of the bruise with gentle fingertips. "I can't believe you've been fighting already. If you think Mum would have my hide for striking you, she'd have yours worse if she knew you'd gone and done it to yourself. And I doubt either of your parents would disagree with whatever punishment you earned yourself."

"My father would be devastated to know that I had done something to mar my appearance, and that the colour clashed with my robes," Julien said, tone snide. "Not to mention that I had resorted to something so physical as fisticuffs rather than some sparkling brilliant hex. But my fist was closer than my wand." He rubbed at a second set of bruises over his knuckles, the shading of someone's teeth obvious in the fair skin.

Nigel noted the motion, and knew he would heal that as well without being asked. It wasn't out of fondness for Julien, for there was none of that. But if he was to heal him, he might as well do it properly. "And the other?"

"I caught Seph mincing about, claiming to be my father at the last OWLS meeting."

Nigel didn't know what to do about the flash of hurt in Julien's grey gaze, and so he ignored it. "Seph's always been a brilliant mimic, so I expect he nailed your father dead on."

"Do you want your lip bloodied as well?" Julien snapped. "I won't abide by anyone making a fool of a Malfoy, even a Pucey."

Nigel grabbed the other boy's cheek, holding him as he drew the wand around his eye. "Stop wiggling unless you want me to poke your eye out, you git." Leaning in close, he stared at Julien until those grey eyes met his, and Julien stilled. "There you go." He spoke the words to the spell carefully, drawing the proper patterns with his wand until the bruise faded. Without a word, he grabbed Julien's hand and did the same to smooth over his roughened knuckles. "There you go, not a blemish in sight."

Julien rubbed at his knuckles and flexed his hand, not looking at Nigel.

"For what it's worth, Seph Pucey's a right arse sometimes."

Julien snorted. "If your mother heard your language, she'd have your hide."

"She might agree, even if he's like a cousin, what with the Weasley connection." For the Longbottoms and Weasleys had always stayed close, ever since the war, and even moreso since Ron's death long before Nigel was ever born. And Ginny and Hermione had never been less than dearest friends, so Ginny's three children were frequent visitors at the Longbottom household as well.

When the other boy didn't respond, Nigel's gaze drifted to the window. "We're pulling into the station."

Julien stood quickly, and unlocked the door. "Not a word of this to anyone," he snarled quietly. "I'll not have it said you're my nursemaid."

"And I'll not be it, either," Nigel snapped back. He turned his back as the other boy left, gathering up his bag of books and the carefully packed broom that had been a birthday gift from his eldest sister. She seemed to think he'd be Seeking for whatever house he ended up in (Gryffindor was to be expected, of course), despite Nigel's protest that he had no intention of playing the game at all. Even if he could, as a first year student.

Broom and bag in hand he took a deep breath. Time to face Hogwarts and see if he could live up to the Longbottom reputation.

#

Nigel's arrival had started off well enough. Mum clapped her hands and everyone snapped to attention, first years going in the boats which would take them into Hogwarts for the first time while everyone else piled into the carriages. Nigel had waved goodbye to his sisters, sure that he would be dining with them at the Gryffindor table soon enough.

There were almost forty new students in his year, divided roughly in half, although Nigel was fairly certain he'd counted a few more boys than girls. He'd found himself in a corner with Adriana and Alicia, simply because they knew each other and now that they had finally arrived, nerves overrode any tendency the girls had towards girlish giggles. He could see Julien across the room where they waited, standing tall (he was already a good three or four inches taller than most of the boys, and at least six inches taller than Nigel himself) and proud, with no sign left of the beating he had taken. Julien, of course, already had a crowd around him, both boys and girls listening to his every word. It was his charisma, Nigel knew; after all, Julien had his mother's blood. But still, it made it impossible to speak to anyone else when most were enthralled by the boy he hated.

Which only made him hate him more.

They filtered in, one by one, to take their turn with the sorting hat. Adriana giggled nervously, slipping one hand into Alicia's and the other into Nigel's, squeezing tightly before her name was called. Nigel surreptitiously wiped his palm against his robes as the girl walked away, her pale ponytail swinging, and he wondered if she'd felt just how sweaty his own palms were.

Then his name was called, and he took his place on the stool, staring out at no one in particular as the hat was placed on his head. It barely came to rest there before it called out in a voice that echoed off the walls, "Ravenclaw!"

What? Nigel turned as he stood, but he was already being waved away. "No," he choked. The hat had gotten it wrong, he couldn't possibly be a Ravenclaw. He liked his books, yes, but his Mum had been a Gryffindor, and his Dad had been a Gryffindor, and all four sisters had been Gryffindor. This was utterly impossible.

But there sat Adriana under the Ravenclaw flags that hung over one of the four long banquet tables, waving him over enthusiastically. "Isn't this terribly exciting?" she whispered to him, making room for him to sit next to her on the bench. "My Mums were both Ravenclaw and they're going to be so pleased that I am too. And look," she nudged him with her shoulder, "doesn't your own mum look terribly proud?"

She did. Professor Longbottom was positively beaming at him, and he managed a smile back, made just slightly broader by hearing that Malfoy had been put into Slytherin (as if he'd be placed anywhere else) and wouldn't plague him by somehow being in the same house. But the smile fell away again as speeches were made, and he picked at his meal. One disappointment already, and he still had one more to go... finding out which wing he would be housed in.

Hermione Longbottom had not stopped trying to reform the Wizarding world as an adult, and she had been instrumental in reorganizing the House structure at Hogwarts. Claiming that the Houses as they were fostered competition and animosity, she devised a new system which allowed alumni to retain House pride, but encouraged more cooperation between students.

Now the hat sorted them into Houses which would be their allegiance for Quidditch and for the House cup, but they then all entered a lottery to determine which dormitory would house them for their seven year stay at Hogwarts, and all classes were mixed according to scheduling and ability. Not being housed with this three siblings who remained at Hogwarts wouldn't be entirely bad, Nigel had already decided. Shannon and Heather were in one dormitory, and Rose in another. And when the time came and the bowl was extended to Nigel, he drew his selection and discovered that he would be in the same dorm as Rose. And Adriana from his own table, and Alicia Weasley from the Gryffindor table.

He watched as the bowl was taken to each table in turn, and the boys selected their lots. He didn't know the boys selected from Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, both Muggleborn he guessed. He carefully memorized their names and faces -- Ian Wrestham and Declan Johnson -- as it wouldn't do to forget. He couldn't help but recognize Chase Zabini of Slytherin, whose features echoed his father's exotic eyes, and watched as he exchanged words with the final boy selected for their room. Julien. Again.

After eleven years of having him in his home, but knowing he could escape at any time, now he would have to live with the other boy. He wasn't quite sure how he would manage without killing the prat.

He headed for the dormitory uncertainly once the meal was done, joining in a group of others heading in that direction, somehow caught between Alicia and Adriana. He saw Julien ahead, explaining something in great detail, to which Chase, Declan and Ian listened avidly. Knowing he couldn't spend the next seven years ostricized in his own room, he swallowed hard and pushed through the crowd to join them.

"It's all at the behest of my grandfather, of course," Julien said. "He knew I wished to play, and of course, Hogwarts wishes his annual endowment, so they've agreed to give it a test run this year. The first time since my father played."

"Play... what?" Nigel asked, although he knew the answer. It couldn't be anything but, after all.

"They're going to allow first years who already know how to sit a broom to test and see if they've got enough experience to try out for their house Quidditch teams." Excitement shone in Ian's eyes, and Nigel had to re-evaluate. Not Muggleborn, but with that accent, not a local boy either. Perhaps Welsh?

"Lovely." Nigel well-remembered the promise he'd made to Shannon, that he would try out for the team as soon as he could. She had assumed he'd play for Gryffindor, and he'd assumed he wouldn't have to worry about it until his second year. It seemed they were both wrong.

"Scared, Longbottom?" Julien arched one delicate eyebrow, knowing full well how well Nigel flew, and how he felt about doing so.

Nigel simply looked at him. "Are you going to test?"

"Of course."

A small tight smile. "Well, then, of course I am. After all, we both know I can fly circles around you, Malfoy. What was that about a tree last summer?"

Julien's jaw set, grey eyes filling with forbidding stormclouds. "It was those bloody sprites your sister's so enamored of. Got in my way."

Nigel shrugged, feeling an odd sense of pleasure at the other boy's anger. "Well, then, we'll have to see how the test goes, won't we? When is it?"

"This afternoon," Ian interjected. "We'll all be going down to watch, even those of us who can't fly yet. Madam Hooch says it ought to be a good first lesson."

This afternoon. On a broom. After traveling, after being sorted, after everything else of the day... now he was expected to fly. And to show Malfoy up. Nigel drew in a deep breath and held it. He was a Longbottom, and nothing was impossible. Of course he'd do what must be done.

#

Out of the nearly forty new students, only seventeen had brought brooms. And after a first quick trip around the pitch had several of those seventeen nearly wobbling straight off their brooms, the field had been narrowed to a mere half dozen, most of whom Nigel had flown with before. There were himself and Julien, of course, and Alicia Weasley and Adriana Fawcett-Edgecombe, both of whom had flown with the crowd in the fields behind the Burrows or on the Longbottom land in Ottery St. Catchpole. The two exceptions were Chase Zabini, who had been raised in Italy and had flown on summer holidays in France with Julien, and Seamus O'Halloran, who'd grown up in Ireland in the shadow of his Quidditch playing father.

Nigel felt a familiar itch in his fingers as the Bludgers came out. Seemed like he always had bruises from the bloody things, and these were bound to be fresher than the ones he shared with his friends and siblings back home. But the Snitch... ah, there it was, delicate wings fluttering so fast they blurred into pale gold fog. A soft hiss of breath to his right, and he knew Julien had it in his sights as well. Familiar grounds from hundreds of practice games, and for that moment his fear of heights fell away, sluffed off by competition. He couldn't let Malfoy show him up, not here, not on this first day. Not when he had a reputation to make for himself.

Half an ear paid attention to Madam Hooch's instructions. No game, two upper classmen with Beater's bats. One upper classmen Keeper by the goals at the far end. Three upper classmen as Chasers to help defend. And the six first year students, either Chasing or Seeking, to see how well they flew. Nigel processed it all and discarded it as unimportant. Julien was focused on the Snitch and so was he, and as soon as it flew from Madam Hooch's hand, he launched after it.

"Don't think you'll get it," Julien growled, close enough that his robes fluttered against Nigel's. "See how high it's climbing. Go on, Longbottom, look down why don't you. Think we're nearly at the top of the turrets."

Nigel didn't dare look anywhere but the Snitch. Not at Julien, not at the castle, and certainly not at the ground. The Snitch was a flash of light in the bright sun, blinking in and out of his vision, veering sharply to the right. Without thinking, he veered with it, muttering, "Get out of my way, Malfoy."

And when Julien didn't move, blinded for the moment by sunlight, Nigel went through that space anyway.

It seemed like the world stopped at the moment of impact. Julien's surprised shout, the way he tipped away. Nigel reached out, grabbing for his robes and capturing only air as Julien tumbled down.

Oh bloody hell.

Nigel didn't think how far away the ground was (or how fast it approached), simply pointed his broom straight down and dove. He couldn't do it, couldn't move that fast and Julien slipped away. A moment before impact, something caught Julien, rolling him, tumbling him arse over teakettle across the grounds until he flopped, limp, upon the grass. Nigel stopped too fast, landing hard on hands and knees, broom falling aside. One of the upper classmen reached Julien first, calling back, "He'll be alright, just a bit banged up. Needs to go off to the hospital wing."

Heart thundering in his chest, Nigel closed his eyes. Thank Merlin. He hadn't killed him, which had been his first thought when he saw him fall. At the sound of a throat clearing, he opened his eyes and looked up. "Are you injured, Longbottom?" Madam Hooch inquired.

He swallowed hard and stood, dusting himself off. "Bruised, ma'am."

"Then you'll accompany Mister Malfoy to the hospital wing. It seems he requires someone to lean on."

Nigel looked to where Julien stood with the help of an older boy, weight off of his right ankle, which hung at an odd angle. Nigel swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am."

They walked in silence at first, taking time to find a rhythm where Nigel's shorter stride could manage with Julien's hopping motion. "You don't need to kill me, Longbottom," Julien snapped.

Nigel didn't reply, silently delivering him to one cot, then retreating to another, where he waited for his own treatment, and the lecture he knew would be coming shortly from his Mum.

#

That had been unpleasant. Nigel had known that schooling at Hogwarts was going to have its disadvantages, and that being the son of a professor would be one of those. But the lecture, the disappointment, was more than he could handle to end this day. Even her pleasure at his sorting into Ravenclaw was eclipsed by her one requirement: he had to apologize to Julien.

He walked out of the side room he had been in while speaking to his mother and made his way to where Julien lay on one of the beds. Looking around he managed to find a chair and dragged it over to sit there, wondering if the other boy were even conscious.

"What do you want, Longbottom? Come to finish the job?"

Nigel winced. "I didn't mean to nearly kill you, Malfoy. You didn't turn when the Snitch did."

Julien shoved one elbow hard against the bed, leveraging himself to sit halfway up. "What are you on about? The Snitch was about twenty feet ahead of us before you decided to barrel into me chasing after sunlight."

Nigel's brow furrowed. "No, it wasn't. It had just shifted when I went after it."

"This'll be an easy season if you make the team, Longbottom." Julien fell back with a mostly hidden groan. "Blind as a bat, and wants to be a Seeker. All the better for the rest of us."

Nigel decided not to fight; it wasn't worth it. Best to just apologize and leave, as he rather thought Mum wouldn't think "I didn't mean to" was a proper apology. But he had to ask, "What's the verdict? I mean, injury-wise. How bad?"

"Slight concussion." Julien closed his eyes. "Broken ankle. They've fixed me up best they can, but I'm to stay here overnight so they can make sure I'm not gone dotty."

"How will they tell?"

Julien gave him a withering look. "Are you planning on staying here as well, Longbottom? Because let me tell you, if you do plan on it, get me a bedpan, as I'm feeling a strong bout of nausea coming on from staring at your face."

Nigel flushed. "Er. No. I just... I mean... I need to... I'm sorrry," he finally managed to stammer out. "I'm sorry."

Julien's eyes fluttered closed again. "Apology accepted. Now... leave me alone. And stay out of my way when I'm back. I don't want to even know you're in my room."

If Nigel had had any say in it, he wouldn't even be there. But they were stuck with the situation now. "It's only seven years, Malfoy. Six years and ten months, actually. Surely you can rise above anything and manage to last that long."

"Course I can. Question is, can a wussy little Longbottom?" One eye cracked open, then closed again. "Go."

Lips pressed, arms crossed, Nigel looked at Julien for a long moment. Then he turned to leave, determined to enjoy this one last Malfoy-free night.