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I think at this point in my education, I could probably author a book on what Magical Shit is real and what’s made up. I would credit Penny as a co-author, because she tells me that the pink yeti that came out of the Wavering Wood was an Admirable Snowman, a magical creature that's vaguely related to the Abominable Snowman.
It was heading toward a group of third years, and when I cut it down with the Sword of Mages, it exploded into a cloud of pink glitter and a gust of cold air. (I don’t really know if it would be considered a dark creature, I mean, it was pink.) Penny says that if it got to those girls before I got to it, things would have gotten bad fast. If it had snuck up on any of the girls and touched them, they would have been cursed to get colder and colder until they confessed their feelings to the object of their admiration or died from exposure. Neither of those options sounded very attractive to me. I remember being thirteen. There were days when I would rather have died than tell Agatha that I fancied her (not that it really matters anymore, we’re broken up again for the tenth time this year). I think this is going to be it. If you’re willing to break up with a person this many times in a row, you probably shouldn’t marry them. It's expensive to get a divorce, I think.
I guess I should be glad I didn’t get caught by the Admirable Snowman either. I don’t have an object of admiration right now, unless you count Cook Prichard’s sour cherry scones. (Penny says that the admiration doesn’t have to be romantic, but it almost always is.)
When I get back to our room in Mummers, Baz is still out. It’s too cold for football practice, and I saw Dev and Niall walking around outside without him a few minutes ago. He must be in the Catacombs. Once I found out he wasn’t hurting people, back in fifth year, I tried to stop following him down there, especially after I found him drinking that day. I invade his privacy all the time, but watching him cry alone in the dark felt like taking it a step too far.
In the shower, a piece of pink glitter gets into my eye, and I spend an extra ten minutes in there, rubbing my eyes blindly. There’s glitter in my hair, it’s practically glued to my scalp. I’m surprised that Baz hasn’t started banging on the door yet; he usually gets back from the Catacombs around eleven and gets in the shower immediately. He must not be back yet. I turn off the water and wrap a towel around my waist- I always forget my clothes on my bed. It annoys Baz, probably because of his prudish Victorian sensibilities.
I open the door and see him curled up in bed with his shoes on, under the covers.
“What’s wrong with you?” I open the window, because I think it’ll annoy him. It can’t be more than 0 degrees outside, and I’m prepared to tell him I think the weather is beautiful if I need to.
“Close the window, Snow. It’s freezing.” He peeks out at me. He’s still fully dressed. He never gets into bed with his clothes on; he’s always after me for sitting on top of my covers with my outside clothes, especially after I’ve been out practicing with my blade or training with the Mage.
“It’s nice out,” I say, just like I planned.
“It’s not.” He grumbles. I can see him shivering from underneath his blanket.
“Well, you could get up and close it yourself if you feel so passionately about it.”
“Fuck you.” He doesn’t move. His hair is trembling.
I go back to the bathroom and put on my pajamas, and when I come back, the window is still open.
“The window.” He says. I sigh, like it’s absolutely killing me, and close the window. Truthfully, I think it’s a bit too cold to have the windows open (it is December, after all), but pissing him off is one of my life’s greatest joys.
“I’m going to bed,” I say, and then I wince, because what kind of response am I expecting from him? Goodnight? Ugh. He looks uncharacteristically pathetic. I wonder if a rat bit him and he’s dying of rabies. That would be too perfect.
I turn out the lights and get under the covers. It’s not really that cold in here.
I wake up two hours later to a clacking sound. Baz is still in his bed. I can see the moonlight shining down on him, and I don’t see his shoes anywhere, so he must still be wearing them.
I try to go back to sleep, and I do, but the clacking noise is just getting louder.
“Baz,” I whisper. More clacking. Is he still shivering? It’s not even that cold in here. “Psst. Baz.”
“W-what?” He sounds pathetic. I’ve never heard him stutter before.
“What is that noise?”
“F-Fuck o-off, Snow.” I stand up and loom over him, something I’ve tried to stop doing since fifth year- sometimes his fangs pop and I don’t want to be collateral damage from any of his nightmares. Is that clacking sound him? Are his teeth chattering?
“Is that you?”
“It’s cold. Did you shut the window?”
“It’s not that cold. I’m wearing a t-shirt.”
“You- you’re an anomaly.” I roll my eyes.
“Well, yes, but it’s still not cold. Check the temperature in here, if you don’t believe me.”
“What’s the forecast?” The numbers appear in the air above him, glowing blue- -1 Celsius outside, 22 Celsius inside. There’s a little cloud that blows snowflakes around.
“Are you sick or something?” I’m a little concerned about him. 22 Celsius is pretty warm, especially for me- I’m always burning up.
“N-no. I d-don’t get sick.”
“Hm. Maybe you should go to the nurse.” He pokes his head out from under the blankets again to glare at me. I wish I could see him better, and then the lights are on. He hates when I do that. Baz is usually pale, but his lips are starting to turn purple. “Holy shit, Baz. You don’t look good.”
“Oh, well, thank you.” I lay a hand on his forehead. It’s freezing, it feels like a marble statue that’s been left outside in the snow. He flinches back from me at first, but he doesn’t get far.
“Maybe you should take a hot shower.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m fine.” He’s leaning into my hand a little bit now, and I realize I must be burning up compared to him. “I d-don’t need your heroics.” A hard thing to believe when he looks like he wants to curl up around my hand like a kitten around a furnace. There’s a flake of pink glitter in his hair.
Why is he- oh. Oh, fuck. The Admirable Snowman.
He was missing; he wasn’t in our room when I came back, and he wasn’t with Dev and Niall.
“Were you in the woods?”
“Accusing me of plotting?” He gives another shiver. It's one with his whole body this time.
“No, the Admirable Snowman came from the wood earlier, and you’re so cold-”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m serious.” What does a person like Baz even admire? Good grades? He constantly flirts with Agatha, but I’ll be damned if I bring him my ex-girlfriend to save my nemesis from an icy fate. Maybe it’s a really sexy violin; they do have all those curves. I don’t know. I’m fully aware that I’m grasping at straws.
“It didn’t- can’t have…” I want to make fun of him for not speaking in complete sentences, but he grabs my hand and wrenches it off his forehead. I think he’s going to throw my hand back at me, but his fingers feel like ice. He hangs onto my hand like it’s a lifeline.
“I’ll turn the shower on for you, as hot as it goes, just let go of my hand.” How warm are vampires supposed to be? He always complains about me keeping the window open, it’s one of our favorite arguments.
“It’ll be cold.”
“No, I promise. I’ll just turn it on, and when you’re done… You can borrow my blanket for the night.”
“When’s the last time you washed it?”
“I don’t think you have the room to complain about that right now.” I need him to let go so I can start thinking about how to help him. As much as I hate him, I don’t want him to die (unless he tries to kill me first, unless I’m the one killing him). His hands are shaking. “Come on, I know you know what an Admirable Snowman is. Penny knew what they were. If you just lie there, you’re going to freeze to death.”
“Won’t.”
“Oh, are vampires immune to magical yetis?”
“Wh-why don’t you ask one?” I roll my eyes for the second time tonight and pry my fingers from his grasp. He curls back in on himself, and I turn on the shower, as hot as it’ll go.
I wish it weren’t the middle of the night. I wish I could ask Penny about this. I know Baz best (out of anyone), and I don’t have a clue in the world what he might admire most. I don’t think he’ll tell me, but maybe if I can keep him alive until the morning, he’ll find the object of his desire himself, and then we can go back to our regularly scheduled programming and forget about all of this.
In a few minutes, steam is rising out of the shower, and he’s sitting on the bed with the blanket around his shoulders. He’s taken his shoes off finally; they’re not even unlaced. He never kicks off his shoes like I do.
“It’s ready for you.” I offer him my hand without thinking, and he takes it. He almost looks surprised. I lead him to the bathroom, and pace around the room while I hear him taking off his clothes and getting in.
The stream of water is consistent, like he isn’t moving around much in there. I wonder if I should have told him not to get his hair wet- he’ll just be colder when he gets out if he does. He probably has a hair dryer somewhere in there, if he does (or we could always use magic if we have to).
I need him to come out so that we can talk about how to break this curse. It figures the Admirable Snowman would get to someone before I could kill it. I’m annoyed. I’m worried about Baz, and I’m annoyed that I’m worried about him.
I’ve never thought about how the water heater situation works at Watford. He’s been in the shower for a long time- almost an hour now- is it possible for the shower to run out of hot water? That would be bad. I knock on the door. “Hey, are you almost done?” He doesn’t respond.
I knock louder. “Baz!” Nothing. “Baz, hello?” Fuck, I hope he didn’t pass out and drown. That would be bad. Being cold eventually makes people sleepy- I think it's a symptom of hypothermia. He was really cold before he got in. Maybe I should have sat on the toilet with my eyes closed to make sure he didn’t fall and hit his head. “Baz? I’m going to come in if you don’t answer me.” I count to thirty and open the door. The room is filled with steam, it’s humid, and it spills out into our room. Our shower curtain is clear, so I try not to look. Baz is sitting at the bottom of the shower, still curled up in a ball. The water is beating down on his back, and his fingers look a little blue.
“Hey, hey, can you hear me?” He’s too busy shivering to answer. His jaw is clenched, but his teeth are still chattering. “I’m going to turn the water off, okay?” I wish his towel were warm, and when I hand it to him, it is. This is the sort of magic that scares Penny, that makes me promise her I won’t tell people I can grant my own wishes by force of will. I turn my head when I offer him the towel. He stands up, but he’s still hunched over, the towel is hanging around his shoulders like the blanket was, and he has his arms wrapped protectively around himself. If I were any good at heating spells, I would cast one on him now, but knowing my luck, he would burst into flames. “Can you dry off?”
“It’s so c-cold.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He’s been sitting under hot water for an hour, and he’s still just as cold as he was when he got in, if not colder.
“Can you dry your hair? Is there a spell?” I hand him his wand from the sink counter.
“D-dry as a bone.” The drops of water disappear from his chest (and I assume the rest of him, I don’t look any lower). It’s so annoying that his spells even work when he’s stuttering.
I leave him standing there shivering and rummage around in his wardrobe for a pair of sweatpants and his football hoodie. I look away while he gets dressed and throw my blanket onto his bed. I’m so hot, I’m practically sweating in the steamy bathroom. Should I sit with him? Maybe it’ll help him get warm. I hand him two pairs of socks, and he gets into bed, wraps himself up in his blanket, then mine.
“Thanks.” He says, like it’s killing him.
“Do you know what you admire?” I ask. He’s looking at me like he wants me to drop dead. “I don’t care, but I don’t really want you to die. Penny says that you have to confess your feelings to whoever or whatever you admire most, and then you’ll be free from the curse.”
“I know that, Snow.”
“Okay, then just do it tomorrow morning. It’s not the end of the world.”
“I know it’s not.”
“If it's Agatha, I won’t even fight you over her. We’re broken up again.” I’m still deciding what to do. He looks so pathetic sitting there, and he leaned into my hand earlier like I was his only salvation.
“I don’t keep up with your personal soap opera,” Baz says. His voice is missing the usual bite that it usually has when he talks to me about Agatha. Maybe he only wanted her because I had her, that would be typical of him- he’s always been a spoiled brat.
“Okay.” I’m tired, and I don’t feel like fighting with him. I sit down on his bed.
“What are you doing?” He’s giving me a different look now, less murderous and more confused.
“Shove over.” I bump his knee with mine. “Let me in.” I wrap an arm around him woodenly. He’s just as cold as he looks. This is weird. Is it weird? I know that I’m going to be sweating in a minute, but he needs me, he needs me here, or he might die.
“You must think you deserve a medal for this.” He leans into my side. I’ve never touched another guy like this- it’s different from what I imagined it, softer, less pointy. Not that I’ve done a lot of imagining, but.
“I do. Your hands are freezing.” He wraps a hand around my bicep and tucks his fingers into my armpit. I almost want to crawl out of my skin from how cold he is, but I stay still. “Who is it? You have to know.”
“It’s none of your business.” Haughty bastard. He turns toward me, and I wiggle under the blankets. We’re still sitting up, and I want to be laying down so badly, I’m so tired. It’s like stepping into a cooler or sitting next to an iceberg.
“You’d better tell someone soon, or else.” I’m not even trying to sound threatening, but he scoffs.
“Compelling argument, Snow.”
“You’re fit, you’re smart, musical, athletic. Even if they don’t like you back, you’ll be fine. I’m sure you know plenty of illegal memory wiping spells that you can use if you need to.” I lean back into his pillow, and it smells like his cologne- cedar and bergamot. I tug at his shoulder, and he follows me.
“What are you doing?” He’s tucked under my arm, pressed against my side in a line. His feet are freezing. He shoves them between my claves like he can’t help it.
“I just told you, I don’t want you to die, wasn’t that clear? And I’m tired. It’s three o’clock.”
“I can’t tell them.”
“So there is someone?”
“It’s none of your business.” He snaps.
“It feels like it might be right now.” His nose is cold against my neck. He keeps getting closer and closer, like he wants me to absorb him. I never would have thought he would let himself get so close to me; he must be really desperate.
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Do you promise me you’ll find them in the morning?”
“I won’t promise you anything.”
I sigh, exasperated. “You’re so irritating. You’re worse than those thirteen-year-old girls would have been.”
“Shut up, I’m not.”
“You are. Are you passively suicidal or something?”
“No!” He sounds surprised.
“Well then, you'd better start thinking about things. It won’t be that bad.”
“How do you know that?”
“I already told you, I don’t want you to die. You’re fit, you have nice hair, I know you can be nice sometimes, if you want to be.” I feel him shake his head, just a little bit. He’s still shivering, and it’s breaking my heart to see him so vulnerable.
“I’ll think about it.” He says.
“Good. I thought we were saving up for the end, and I can’t fight you if you kill yourself by being a stubborn bastard.” I feel his breath puffing over my neck. It’s cold too. We’re quiet. I can hear the merwolves splashing around in the moat below us.
“I’ll do it,” Baz whispers. It’s been so long, I’m almost asleep again. “I don’t like being cold.”
“Good,” I say again. I pull him in closer.
“Do you promise not to hold it against me?”
“I already told you, Agatha and I broke up. Is it Penny?”
“No, it’s not Bunce.” He sounds like he’s half out of his mind with grief. It can’t be that bad. We’re seventeen, for Merlin’s sake.
“Okay, then who?” He fumbles under the blankets for my hand and laces his fingers through mine. I really don’t want him to die. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I have to tell you, Snow.” He sounds on the verge of tears.
“Okay. Okay, should I keep guessing?”
“You won’t guess. Not in a million years.” My arm is still around his shoulder, and his knee is slotted between my thighs. I can see him looking at me in the dark. His eyebrows are drawn together, and his lips are still a little blue. I’m warming him up, I think—just a little bit at a time.
“Is it Possibelf? Miss Christy? Penny’s mum?”
“Getting colder.”
“Okay, is it the Mage?”
“Ew!” He giggles, and I’ve never heard him laugh like that before. It’s nice.
“I don’t know, you said I’d never guess.”
“It’s a bad guess. But it’s warmer.”
“Um, Gareth?” Is Baz gay? I’ve never asked.
“No! Colder again.” He laughs. His nose is still pressed into my neck.
“Is it me?” I ask, and he says nothing. I feel him holding his breath. I sit up, but I don’t let go of his hand. “Baz. Is it me?” His eyes are squeezed shut. I rub the back of his hand with my thumb. He nods, the tiniest nod I’ve ever seen. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.” He’s still whispering. “Yes, Simon. It’s you.” I don’t know what to say, so I lie back down and stare at the ceiling. “Say something, please.”
“I didn’t know.” He’s clutching me still, his face buried back in my shoulder. We’re quiet for a few more minutes. I can already feel him getting warmer. “I meant what I said.” I can feel my face turning red. He can probably see it in the dark- vampire vision.
“About what?”
“You’re fit. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”
“Even you?” He asks.
“Yes.” The word is out of my mouth before I have a chance to think about it. I’m telling the truth, I know I am. He’s brilliant, he’s talented. I followed him to every football match earlier in the year, just to keep an eye on him. I remember the way that he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the dirt and sweat from his face.
“Will you stay with me for the night?” He’s shy.
“I will.” I don’t even have to think about it.