Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Day 1:

Simon

I am.

Completely stupid.

I have to be.

I’m not really sure how I’ve made it to 8th year, honestly. Most of it is through Penny’s help.

Just like this stupid spell.

She’s been trying to help me figure out my spell, and although my magic seems reluctant at the best of times to conform to a proper incantation, I’ve had absolutely no luck creating one of my own.

Which has lead me here.

To shouting song lyrics at my wand while Baz showers.

Penny gave me an iPod at the start of the year and it’s loaded with as many songs as I could pirate off of her laptop, so my recent practice has been putting it on shuffle and trying to find something that would work.

I’m 106 songs deep and nothing’s given even the slightest flicker of magic.

I can’t practice around anyone either, just in case something misfires, so I’ve taken to using every free moment.

For example, while Baz showers before breakfast.

I’ve set up a selection of random objects on my desk, and I’ve been trying everything on those, that way I have something to aim for. (I’ve discovered that the only time my magic works well is when I’m aiming at something physical.)

I’m running out of time, because the shower stopped running a good 15 minutes ago which means Baz is almost done making himself look perfect, but… one more can’t hurt.

I skip to the next song, this time Aretha Franklin, A Change Is Gonna Come. Penny said I need to familiarise myself with a spell before I try to cast it, so I listen to the song the full way through before deciding what I want to try and cast. Realistically the title would be the best, it’s something Normals say all the time, and as a title it’s powerful enough that it should work.

I keep the song playing, then take a deep breath, focusing all of my energy into the words.

“A change is going to come.”

My wand spits a couple of sparks, and I laugh out loud in disbelief. Something’s working.

Something’s finally actually working.

I cast it again, and more sparks fly, brighter and hotter than before.

I cannot wait to tell Penny.

With the song still playing in my earphones, I take another deep breath, channeling every inch of my power into the words. I know how intensely powerful my magic can be, but what’s the harm in trying?

“Snow?”

“A Change Is Gonna Come!”

The bathroom door opening catches me off guard, and the room fills with my magic.

Shit.

Baz

I can smell Snow’s magic through the bathroom door.

I’m just drying my hair when I catch it, a whiff of green smoke cutting through the cedar and bergamot mist after my shower.

It annoys me more than it should, because Snow practicing (and accomplishing) magic in our bedroom is never a good sign.

I ignore it as best I can, but the smell only grows thicker, stronger. Whatever he’s doing, he doesn’t seem to be intent on stopping.

That means I should probably put a stop to it.

I push open the door to find him standing in front of his desk, with a row of random objects lined up across it. He’s got earphones in and he’s holding that blasted iPod Bunce gave him that he thinks I don’t know about. (I do. Of course I do. He’s not slick.) He’s got his eyes closed and he’s brandishing his wand like a sword and I’m not entirely sure what he’s about to do, but the cloying smell of smoke suggests that I’m not going to like it.

“Snow?”

His attention slips as he starts his incantation, and before I can hear the words that leave his lips, the room is thick with his magic.

I can feel it washing over me, washing through me, and I disappear.

Simon

I’m woken to a ringing in my ears, and the smell of smoke.

And the rush of my heartbeat in my ears.

My heartbeat?

I’m somehow across the room, my back against the door to the en-suite.

The smoke has begun to clear, and my head aches as I push myself up properly.

What happened?

What did I do?

Across the room from me someone groans, (Baz, fuck! I must have got him with my spell) and I scramble to my feet.

“Baz? Shit - I’m-“

My voice doesn’t sound like my own.

“I’m sorry I-“

And that’s not Baz on the floor.

I am staring at my own face.

Baz

The first thing I hear is music, (there’s an earbud in my ear?) then ringing. The room smells like smoke, like Snow’s smoke, and I feel like someone’s hit me with a car. Was this what he was trying to do? Why didn’t the Anathema kick in?

I try to sit up, but a groan escapes me at the effort.

Crowley, what happened to me?

There’s movement from across the room and someone that decidedly isn’t Snow is saying my name and then-

And then my own face looks down at me.

I’m on my feet in an instant, but this body isn’t my own.

I’m shorter, clumsier, and as I look down in horror, I realise that I’m Simon Snow.

“Seven snakes, what did you do? What did you do?”

My own face stares back at me, wild and scared.

“I don’t know, I don’t know Baz I’m- I’m sorry, I was just trying a spell but I didn’t- fuck! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen-“

It’s very odd seeing my own voice swear like a normal, seeing my own body emotional and expressive.

“- I don’t know how to fix it.”

I shove past him, into the bathroom that I just left, and there, staring back at me, is Simon Snow. I can’t stop myself from touching my face, his face, and the contours and ridges are not my own.

I really am in his body.

And he really is in mine.

Fuck.

FUCK.

He’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom, and he’s staring at himself in the mirror too.

I can’t read his face, my face, I can’t read my own face, his face.

“How long do you think we’re going to be stuck like this?” As if I know, no one knows how his magic works. Especially not him. He’s embarrassed, I think. It doesn’t really show on my skin, but the look on his face gives it away.

It its more than strange seeing his expressions on my features, I didn’t think my face could look like this. I’m not as expressive and I’m certainly not as emotional as Snow.

“Depends. Usually until Penny finds a counter spell, I’m not… I’m not good at reversing my magic. I can try but-“

I’m scowling at him, it feels wrong on his features… it looks wrong on his features.

“Merlin, Snow!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know this was going to happen!”

“You need to find a way to fix this.”

I push past him again, ignoring his pitiful looks. This is dangerous.

This is very dangerous.

Me in Snow’s body? Not a massive concern, but Snow in my body? He could cause irreparable destruction, to me and my family.

Snow might actually finally ruin me.

“I’m going to fix it! I swear Baz, I’ll fix it. I could try casting the spell agai-“

“No! Crowley Snow, no. Absolutely not.” I can’t risk it. We can’t risk it. No with how unpredictable his magic is.

“Fine! Then we need to manage it somehow, can we go to class like this? Is it safe?”

“I’ve not missed a day of class in my life. I don’t plan on starting now. Besides, it gives us a chance to research.”

Snow chooses not to mention the start of the year.

Simon

“I’m going to have to act like you, and you’re going to have to act like me then.”

“Try your best. But I will not have you humiliate me, so do not talk to anyone.”

“God, you’re such a dick.”

“And don’t swear like a Normal when you’re me!”

“Fine! Then don’t be an arsehole to people as me! I don’t need anyone else upset with me!”

I didn’t mean to say that.

Baz raises an eyebrow (I don’t like seeing him use my face). “Who’s upset with you? Is it Wellbelove?”

I know the look on my face gives me away because he rolls his eyes.

“I’m not getting involved in some lovers quarrel.”

“You won’t. She broke up with me.”

Baz

The golden girl left the golden boy? I can’t hide my surprise. They were clearly meant for one another, destined to marry as soon as they finished at Watford and produce a herd of golden haired mages. We all thought it, Snow clearly thought it…

But not Wellbelove.

I feel guilty for the stab of glee that pulses through me at the knowledge that Snow is single though. I know I have no chance, that my pining for the Chosen One will forever be just that, and yet… and yet I can’t help myself but imagine.

Now is most definitely not the time for it though.

“Shame, you-“

“It’s fine,” he snaps, still looking away from me, “we never would’ve worked out anyway. It was bound to happen soon enough… can we not talk about this actually? We’re not friends, you don’t need to know.”

Of course.

We’re not friends.

We never will be.

“Fine. Just don’t tell anyone and talk to as few people as possible… and don’t eat anything, just toast. Don’t ask.”

The walk to the dining hall is uncomfortable, and separating is even worse.

Bunce is immediately suspicious of me, but not suspicious in the right way, she merely thinks I’m hiding something. Which I suppose I am, or rather Snow is, but surely he’s always hiding something? (I find him to be quite mysterious in that way, he’s a completely open book and yet… well.. I don’t actually know anything about him).

I said I didn’t sleep well, which she believes (Snow clearly didn’t, judging by the bags under his eyes, although I have no idea why) and doesn’t pry any further. Breakfast was awkward, but I relished in stuffing my face to avoid much conversation. I had two piled plates of breakfast and I’m still somehow starving, this bottomless pit that Snow appears to have for a stomach makes me feel a little guilty for teasing him over how much he eats, it’s genuinely quite painful.

Somehow I had 9 scones. ( I don’t even actually like cherries normally, most things taste like nothing to me so being able to experience human food with a human tongue… well, it was like nothing else.)

Snow sits with Dev and Niall, and I’m pleased to see that he doesn’t eat much, just a cup of tea and a single slice of toast (good man, just like I instructed). I doubt he’s actually even hungry, I wasn’t this morning before… this… happened.

They drag him off to the common room soon enough, and Bunce and I set off to the library. She’s dragging on about something, when suddenly she stops at the door of the library and turns to me, accusatory.

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying!”

I look down, I really wasn’t, too focused on trying to pretend to be Snow to pay attention.

“Sorry.”

She shakes her head at me, then smiles, “you have to stop thinking about Pitch, honestly Si! He’s not planning anything, you’re just obsessed with him.”

I feel the blood rush to my cheeks and I know that they’re pink, but before I can say anything she just laughs at me, then drags me into the library.

Simon Snow, obsessed with me? As if.

Simon

Niall and Dev are chatting about something as we walk back to the Mummers common room. It’s normally empty in the mornings everyone either lingering in the dining hall or rushing back to their rooms to get ready before lessons, hence why the three of them normally claim it before the day begins. They both throw themselves across the sofas as I set down my (Baz’s) bag.

I need to piss, but I’ve got plenty of time before our lesson starts to go…

Oh.

Oh no.

Baz is going to have to use the bathroom in my body.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I’m shaking. Niall and Dev notice it before I do, looking at me in concern. I can’t breathe, my chest is so tight and the world is swimming and I need to find Baz. I need to find Baz.

There’s a hand on my shoulder and the scent of black pepper and ginseng is almost overwhelming as Dev(? It must be, I’m too preoccupied to notice) guides me to a chair, then takes my hand.

“Cmon Baz, deep breaths.” That’s Niall, his hand on my back rubbing gentle circles (he smells like freshly cut grass and jasmine and… Dev? I can’t bring myself to question it.

I take a shaky breath, the air dragging into my lungs as if I’m drowning, choking me.

The two of them are talking above me, I can’t make it out in my distress but I catch snippets of their whispers.

“-hasn’t had one like this in a while..”

“- maybe it’s Snow … done something-“

“-he had a letter from Malcom…. maybe-“

The hand on my back is still there, and Dev squeezes my hand and I squeeze back as I get another desperate lungful of air.

There are tears dripping down my cheeks and suddenly I am being hugged, and all I can smell is pepper and grass and it smells like home.

It smells like safety.

I no longer feel like I can’t breathe, but the shaking hasn’t stopped, I need to find Baz. Immediately.

Dev is the first to pull away, my face was pressed into his chest and there are wet patches where my tears have soaked through his shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind though, and I fear this isn’t the first time this has happened.

“What’s up mate?” His voice is gentle, so much more tender than I’ve ever heard him speak. I guess I’ve never actually spent any time around him.

I can’t get my words out though, can’t say anything in fear of giving it all away.

Niall, he’s crouched next to me with his arms around my waist, gives me a gentle squeeze (they’re both so incredibly gentle with me, with Baz, as if he’s fragile. Is he?) and I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes.

“You’re safe Basil, whatever it is, you can talk to us.”

I shake my head, bringing a shaky hand to my cheeks and wiping away the tears. I can’t let anyone else see Baz like this, I can’t ruin his reputation any further.

“Later,” I manage to choke out, still not meeting either of their eyes, “I’ll tell you later… please. There’s something I have to do first.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Baz say please, but neither of them are phased by it, still looking at me with such tender concern, still touching me as if I am made of glass.

I’m out of the room before they can say anything else, but I can still hear them as I disappear down the hallway.

“Do you think it’s getting bad again?”

There’s 10 minutes before our first lesson and for both of us it’s elocution, so at least it’s not weird if I grab him before we go in.

I left him in the dining hall with Penny, but they were heading to the library so I rush there first. My face is still sticky, but I’m moving too fast and too determined for anyone to notice, besides, they’re all too scared of Baz to look at me.

At least that’s one good thing about this whole situation.

Baz

We’re sitting by the window when Bunce slaps a piece of paper in front of me.

“We’ve got half an hour, if you finish this now then all we’ve got left is your Greek.”

Oh. Homework. Snow tries his hardest not to let on how much he struggles with his work, but I’ve seen him with his hands in his curls, trying his best to keep from crying over his latest set of terrible grades. Truly it’s a wonder he’s even actually a mage, he’s atrocious at everything. I tried to help him once, and he just shut down, I wonder if he’s the same with Bunce.

I look down at the page before me, and to my horror the words are swimming about the page, can Snow not read?

I focus on the title, and the words finally click back into place, but they’re a little fuzzy and some of the letters seem backwards. My confusion must be evident, because Penny sighs, then reaches over to take my hand.

“Come on Si, you promised you’d let me help you, I’ll read the questions out and you write the answers, ok?”

So Bunce knows about this. Knows that Snow… can’t read? Needs glasses? I don’t understand what this is. All I can do is nod. I feel sick merely looking at the page before me, it’s like I’ve been cursed.

Is this why he’s so terrible at everything? Because everything looks like this?

We’re halfway through the sheet (and it’s taken us quite a while, what with Bunce reading me the questions and me trying to learn how to write with my left hand (Crowley, no wonder his work is so shitty) and also trying to make the words stop spinning around me, when the door to the library opens.

And there is my own face, staring at me.

I look awful.

Or rather, Snow looks awful.

His (my?) cheeks are tear stained and pink, his shirt is wrinkled and he’s shaking, he looks like I do when I’m having a panic attack.

Reflexively I’m on my feet, reaching for my wand but of course it’s not in my holster, I’m Simon Snow and I keep my wand in my pocket .

I grab it, unsure of what’s going on as he strides over, and Bunce grabs my arm.

“Stop it Simon,” she hisses, “just stop it, it’s not worth it.”

He’s here now, staring at me, and he looks like he’s about to collapse and I can only assume the worst.

“Snow.”

Thank Crowley he’s aware of the situation enough to keep up the act.

“I need to talk to you. Privately. Now.”

Bunce is trying to tug me back into my seat, but she’s got her ring at the ready, pointed at Snow’s chest.

“Simon, no, it’s not worth it. Baz, just leave us alone.” Other people are starting to stare now.

I shake my head, then free my arm from her grip and shove my wand back into my trouser pocket. (He needs a holster like… 7 years ago.)

“It’s fine Penny, seriously.” I have to keep stopping myself from calling her Bunce, it’s getting annoying.

She stares at me, then sighs, throwing her hands up into the air.

“Fine, just please try not to kill each other… and get out of the library. I don’t want to be kicked out again.”

I nod at her, then look back at Snow who still looks like he’s about to collapse or die, or maybe throw up. Maybe all three.

And then his hand is on my wrist and he’s dragging me away.

We make it to a supply closet just across the hall. He lets go of me as soon as we’re there, pressing back against the wall and sinking to the floor.

I’m genuinely concerned about him, as well as whatever’s happened.

He’s about to speak but I shush him and grab his wand, silence is golden.

Nothing happens.

And that is when I realise, when we realise, that I do not have my magic.

I have Snow’s.

Suddenly it makes sense, the burning pit inside of me (not just my stomach), the hallowing, painful empty feeling that encompasses me is his magic.

It hurts.

That must mean…

He has mine.

He’s staring at me, the issue momentarily forgotten as he slides my wand out of the holster. He looks uncertain, and I crouch down beside him.

“Light the match, then blow.”

I tried to teach him once, how to cast a spell like I do, the way my mother taught me. Light a match inside of your heart, then blow on the sparks as you cast.

There’s a moment of silence, and I realise he’s closed his eyes.

Then:

“Silence is golden.”

The magic sparkles around us as the spell works, and I am staring at him and he is staring at me.

Simon

Is this what I’ve been missing out on? Magic is so easy, so natural to Baz. My whole life I’ve felt like a badly contained bomb, unable to cast even the simplest of spells and yet to everyone else it’s like second nature?

Words cannot explain the empty feeling inside of me at the thought.

However this means that Baz has my magic, and that is far more dangerous.

So dangerous that I almost forget what I came here for.

“What do you want Snow? What happened?” Thankfully, he hasn’t.

I can hear the fear in his voice (is that truly how pathetic I sound?) and I shake my head. We’re both on the floor together, which I’m a little grateful for. He can’t attack me as easily down here.

“Nothing- nothing happened. No one knows, I swear.” His (my?) face relaxes at that, the knot between his eyebrows smoothing. “No one suspects anything I just- I-“

I’m shaking so hard I can’t get the words out, and it’s like someone’s squeezing the air out of me.

My chest hurts so much.

“I’m- you- fuck.”

Baz looks genuinely worried, and he reaches out, placing a hand on my arm. I try not to think about how right his warm hand feels through the fabric. Is he always this cold?

“Deep breaths Snow.”

I take a shaky breath, then before I can spiral any further I blurt it out.

“I’m transgender. I don’t- I don’t have a penis and no one knows except for Pen and Agatha and the Mage and you were going to find out eventually now that you’re in my body but I can’t- I can’t be outed like this and I understand if you hate me and-“ there are tears running down my face and before I can get another word out there are arms around me and bronze curls brushing against my cheek and I am overwhelmed with the scent of butter and cinnamon and bacon.

And I start sobbing.

“Crowley Snow, it’s ok. Deep breaths, I don’t hate you, I can’t hate you. I’m not going to tell anyone, I swear to you.” He’s so warm and he smells so good and I can hear his heart (my heart) beating and it’s so… calming.

Baz’s body shouldn’t find my closeness calming. I shouldn’t be so automatically relaxed by my own smell, he should hate me, this body should hate me.

Right?

I’m still sobbing, but I’m breathing easier than I was, and clutching onto him as tightly as I can. ( I’ll feel bad about that later).

“You’re ok Simon, I won’t tell a single soul. I don’t hate you… not for something like that. Not for who you are.”

The bell for our first lesson goes, but I cannot bring myself to let go of him, and he’s still whispering to me, comforting me.

I genuinely believe him that he won’t share my secret, he might be evil but he’s not that evil, and I believe he doesn’t hate me…

I just can’t believe he won’t find me repulsive.

I find myself repulsive.

Baz

I have never seen Snow this upset about anything. He’s almost hysterical in my arms, so afraid, so genuinely terrified that him being trans is something I’ll hate him for. And that I’ll out him.

I could never.

I didn’t know, which I’m surprised by. He didn’t take his shirt off around me until third year, when he spent Christmas at Wellbeloves’ and returned in January more confident than I’d ever seen him. I had just assumed it was the fact that he had a girlfriend that had given him that boost but… I guess he did something to his body?

I’ll find out later I suppose, but I’ve never noticed any big scars. In fact I’ve never noticed any signs that he wasn’t cis.

My erotic gropefest fantasies have always included him having a cock but… I’ve got a broad imagination.

Thankfully, being gay and having access to the internet has educated me well on queerness, so I don’t need to ask any awkward questions. I understand, and I support him. No matter what.

“You’re a man Snow, you’ve always been a man and I’ll never see you as anything other than a man, ok? I’ll make sure no one else finds out. We can set some ground rules later if you want.”

He nods against me and I rub his back. I love you. I love you so much. “I could never hate you for being yourself, ok? You’re a man, no matter how you go about it.” And I’m so in love with you.

He calms down enough to pull away shortly and he looks a mess, hair all over his face, cheeks wet and sticky and his uniform somehow even more wrinkled. I’ve never seen myself look this shabby, it’s like a magical trait of his, to make himself look permanently ruffled. I reach for my wand to spell him but remember as soon as my hand brushes against my bare arm.

“Everything in its place, and clean as a whistle.” I murmur to him, “and wash your face before you come in.”

The hallways should be empty, but I realise now that it would be more suspicious if we arrive late separately, then if we arrive late together.

“I’ll come with you.”

Also, I don’t trust him to be ok by himself right now.

Simon

We make it to the men’s bathroom, and I realise that embarrassingly, I still need to piss. I duck into the cubicle, ignoring Baz, and I unbutton my trousers.

I sit, out of habit, and to avoid looking at Baz’s penis. I’m not going to have a choice eventually, but for now I will do my best to maintain his privacy.

I feel better once I’ve gone, and try my best with my uniform before I exit the cubicle but I still look a mess when I catch sight of myself in the mirror.

I try not to look too closely as I splash my face with cold water.

I’m not sure I can bring myself too yet.

Baz is adjusting my hair in the mirror, his hand damp as he slicks back my curls. He’s somehow made himself look so prim and proper as me… he’s made himself look nice.

I don’t like the feeling that rushes through me at that realisation.

My bad mood is replaced by glee however as I try the spells and they work, again as easy as breathing when I try. I’m going to take full advantage of this while I can, maybe it’ll even help me with my magic once I’m back to being me. I look a lot more like Baz normally does now, just maybe a little off. I have messed his hair up though, and he huffs when he looks over at me.

“Honestly Snow, come here.”

And then he’s touching me, smoothing my (his) hair back until it looks perfect… and I look like Baz.

“You ok to go in there?” He’s chewing nervously my lip (do I do that normally?) and  I remember that he’s just as worried as I am about this all, about no one finding out.

I nod, then offer him a half smile. “Of course I am Snow, just annoyed you’ve made us late.” It feels weird getting into character, to talk to Baz as if he’s me (which of course, he technically is) but he smiles at me and for a millisecond, everything feels alright.

We bicker mindlessly as we approach the door, and I go in first, sweeping over to my seat next to Dev.

“My apologies Madame Bellamy, Snow’s incompetence is utterly to blame.” It hurts to say, but then when I realise it’s true… it hurts a little more.

I am incompetent. I did this to us because I’m shite at magic.

Like everything, I try not to think about it.

As soon as Madame Bellamy has scolded us and turned back to the board, Dev catches me eye.

“You ok?” He mouths and I merely nod back, I’ll talk to Baz about what to do later. 

We’re paired up for the lesson, and Baz and Penny are paired up as well, so hopefully things won’t go too wrong.

And of course they do,

Immediately.

Baz

Snow’s magic is a curse.

We’re revising simple spells, things that I could do with my eyes closed, things that Mordelia could do without thinking, and yet I just can’t.

I try everything, every casting technique known to man and yet nothing happens. Snow’s magic is there, bubbling under my skin and yet try as I might I can’t use it. I can’t draw on it. Is this what he feels like all the time? Like he’s trapped from his own magic?

I don’t notice how worked up I’m getting until Bunce grabs my arm.

“Simon, stop it, you’re smoking.”

And I am, the people around me are cringing away from the green wood smoke that I’m letting off, and I drop my wand immediately.

Great snakes, is this what it’s like all the time? I despise it, completely and utterly.

I’m still bleeding magic though, my frustration at all of this boiling in my blood, and I don’t know how to stop it.

Snow is staring at me, and I feel chills at the expression he’s making. It’s utterly unreadable. Is this how he’s felt all this time?

It’s utterly unbearable to be Simon Snow I have realised.

Madame Bellamy spells both me and Penny out of the classroom, unwilling to be in the same room as me in case I go off (which I’m quite scared might happen, as I have absolutely no idea how to control this).

Penny’s got a hand on mine, and we just stand there in silence as I force myself to calm down, to think of anything other than Snow and how awful this is.

It seems to work after a few minutes, and I pull my hand away from hers to tug through my hair.

Huh. I guess our instincts come with the body.

“What was that all about Si?”

“Sorry, just… I- It’s. I- wish I wasn’t so bad at all this.” It’s so hard to get my words out as Snow, they’re all in my head but I can’t make them fit together.

Has it always been like this?

All those times people tell him to just “use his words,” and getting annoyed with him when nothing works, when really there was nothing that he could do about it.

He’s not incompetent, I realise guiltily, it’s never been his fault.

The pang of guilt worsens as I realise just how much I’ve put him down, how much we all have. If we helped him differently, would he be so inept at managing his magic? Has Watford let him down?

For years we’ve teased him for being useless at magic, but it’s really not his fault. His magic is too powerful for anyone.

It’s been all of two hours, and I already wish I didn’t have it.

Her face softens, and she hugs me. She’s soft and warm and her hair tickles my chin and for the first time in my life, I am hugging someone and I’m not painfully aware of their heartbeat and how delicious their blood smells. For the first time in 13 years, I am not a vampire.

I hug her back, and for a brief moment, I forget that I’m not actually him.

I can feel how much he loves her, how peaceful the turmoil inside becomes at her touch.

A bitter taste rises in my throat at the thought of why, but I push it away. Snow and Bunce are best friends, and what does it matter if he is in love with her? I have no claim over him.

We return shortly enough, once I’ve definitively stopped smoking, and the rest of the morning passes without any other incidents. 8th years have a free period before lunch, so we reconvene in our room.

Simon

Baz’s body makes no sense.

And yet it makes perfect sense.

I’m constantly cold, to the point of having to wear my jumper AND blazer, he might be wiry but he’s impossibly strong (and fast ) to the point where I almost cracked our bedroom door when I opened it. I haven’t felt hungry yet, merely… peckish at best and by now I’d be completely ravenous, and I can hear and smell everything.

I know logically that this is because he’s a vampire, but he hasn’t admitted it yet, so what can I do?

He’s sitting on my bed when I arrive (would I rather he sit in his own bed? He’d never allow me to sit there but…) so I plonk myself down on his.

“Snow.”

“Baz.”

And I can’t help myself but giggle, flopping back onto his mound of pillows.

He’s laughing too, and I can’t stop the feeling that swirls in my chest at the sound of his laugh (my laugh).

We’ve already agreed to spend whatever time we can here, just to be on the safe side, but it seems as if we’ve successfully managed to avoid suspicions so far.

“Let’s set up some ground rules.” Baz says, looking over at me from across the beds. “And maybe some important things to know about one another? Just to avoid things like… earlier.”

Like me having a panic attack and dragging him into a closet to come out and cry. Yeah.

“Good idea. Well for one thing, I’m trans, so no using urinals or anything, although if you can maybe just come back here when possible?”

Baz stands, then digs around in a drawer in his desk before pulling out a notebook and a pen.

“That’s an important one, here, I’ll make two pages and we can have one for me and one for you… then we can have something to double check.”

I watch him write, and have to keep myself from giggling at how much difficulty he’s having.

“And maybe add on that I’m left handed.”

“It’s not just that! Crowley, trying to read with your eyes is fucking impossible.”

Oh yeah.

“Shit- yes, sorry, I’m dyslexic. I forgot to tell you when I noticed.” Stupid, he’s probably spent the entire day struggling with no idea why. “I remembered when I was taking your notes earlier and suddenly everything seemed to make too much sense.”

Baz’s eyes widen in understanding, then he chucks the notebook and pen over to me. “Honestly Snow I just assumed you couldn’t read.” His sincerity just comes across as sarcasm in my voice and I laugh, and he does to.

I like this.

I like that we’re talking to each other like friends.

One page is titled Snow, the other Pitch and I can’t help but snort at his handwriting. Mine’s shit on the best of days, but his is truly appalling in my body.

I add Simon and Baz before both of our last names then turn my attention to the lists.

Simon Snow:

• transgender. Use stalls and room where possible.

“I can’t eat mushrooms, that’s another important one.” I add, scrawling it onto the page. (My handwriting is equally not good, seeing as I’m trying to write with the wrong hand and on a bed).

• no mushrooms.

Baz looks up at that, he’s been staring at his hands while I write.

“No mushrooms? Is it because you’re allergic or is it like a sensory thing?”

I open my mouth to give the simple answer, but we’re being open with one another today, and surprisingly I want to tell him. I don’t often want to tell people things about my past.

“I’m not allergic, but it’s… well, I’ll throw up if I eat them so maybe I’m a little bit allergic? It’s more of a visceral reaction I have to them. Basically it’s all because one of the homes I was in when I was about 6 I think, they had a policy that everyone had to eat everything on their plates cause there wasn’t enough food to spare, and I already didn’t love mushrooms but they made a big stew or something with loads in so I picked them all out so they went cold and they wouldn’t let me leave the table until I ate them, so I ended up eating all of these cold slimy mushrooms by the spoonful and it made me throw up, and all I could taste was the mushrooms.”

The memory makes me shudder, and I add to the page.

• no mushrooms. Penny knows not to have any.

“Penny won’t eat them around me, Agatha sometimes forgets.”

Baz

I’m staring at Simon, I know I am, but I can’t help myself.

I knew he was in care before the Mage found him, but I always just sort of imagined it would be like in tv shows, where each child has their own room and lovely social workers but… no.

I feel bad for him.

I just want to scoop him into my arms and promise him that life gets better, that he’ll never have to go back into care, but I can’t. Because he’s in my body.

And he’s Simon Snow.

“No mushrooms then. No meat for me, of any kind. Just stick to vegetables and carbs if you’re hungry.” I should tell him why.

I need to tell him why.

I can’t get the words out of my mouth.

He adds it to the list.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it.

I know he knows.

He opens his mouth.

“Don’t be a codfish.”

He smiles, then flips me off.

“And don’t use my body to swear like a normal, great snakes you look ridiculous.” My words sound so silly coming out of his mouth, I make him sound posh, and he makes me sound so crass. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so worrying.

I see him adding it to the list, and I roll my eyes.

“Let’s do our best to mimic one another, so I’ll talk like you and you talk like me… and maybe let’s avoid one another outside of this room?”

Baz Pitch:

• no swearing like a normal

Simon Snow:

• no swearing like a mage !!!

“I think we should tell Penny, as well as Dev and Niall.”

My heart sinks.

I know we ought to, that they’re (well, Bunce is at least) our only hope of finding a reversal spell, and yet the thought is terrifying. I can’t bear the idea of my father finding out, and from the look on his face, he’s equally keen to keep the mage from knowing too.

“Fine. We’ll tell them this evening, then at least we won’t drive each other mad.” He could never. I love him too much.

Also if he tells Dev and Niall, they might not give any secrets away.

Like the one I desperately need to tell him.

He already knows, I know he does, he’s spent the past two and a bit years trying to convince everyone in Watford that I’m a vampire (including the Mage!!) and yet I’ve never given him any proof, he’s never gained any actual solid evidence.

If I tell him, will he rat me out? Will he truly finally be the end of me?

Is me dying worse than what might happen if I don’t? Might he go on a thirst crazed attack and take innocent lives?

I have to tell him.

I have to.

I’m so scared.

“If this… if this lasts longer than 24 hours, you’re going to get thirsty.”

I can’t believe I didn’t feed last night, I’m not even really sure why I didn’t.

Maybe because I had no idea that first thing in the morning Snow would accidentally magic us into swapping bodies.

The tension is palpable, and he’s staring at me, waiting for me to say something.

Waiting for me to elaborate.

“I’m a vampire.”

I’m hugging his pillow without realising it, bracing myself for his reaction, but when it doesn’t come, I open my eyes.

He’s smiling.

“Baz, I know. I’ve known for years.”

It’s enough to make me want to cry.

“But- you- you’re not going to tell anyone? You’ve got your proof, you can tell the mage.” It’s a lot harder to keep the shaking out of Snow’s voice, he’s all or nothing with his emotions, just like everything else.

He shakes his head, still smiling like an imbecile.

“I’m not going to tell the Mage, there’s no point? You’re a mage first and foremost, and besides, no one ever actually believed me.”

I don’t know what to feel.

According to Snow’s body I’m feeling everything all at once.

Simon

Baz:

• No swearing like a normal
• May get thirsty

I avoid writing vampire, just in case anyone finds this notebook. His secret IS safe with me, and although I’m elated to hear him finally admit it, everything I’ve said is true. No one will believe me, even Penny doesn’t really and she’s been with me the whole time. Besides, I don’t actually really have anyone else to tell who it’d be important too. I could tell the Mage, but I don’t want to risk putting Baz in danger and… well… I don’t believe Baz is actually dangerous. Vampires might be, but not Baz. I know he’s harmless.

“I guess we’ll get into that later? I assume Niall and Dev already know, but I’ll still be as careful as possible.”

Baz just nods, and I feel… I don’t know what I feel. It’s not guilt, and it’s not pity, it’s… something.

“Speaking of secrets, you absolutely cannot speak to the Mage. If he summons for you, come and find me immediately.” I’m getting sweaty just thinking about the Mage, about what he’d do if he found out. I’m not worried about Baz as me, I’m worried about what he’s do to me as Baz. Get me to infiltrate the old families, take them down from the inside disguised as one of them.

I feel sick.

“Promise me Baz, if he tries to talk to you, come find me?”

Baz nods, his own expression grim. He’s sucking on my teeth, just like he does normally, but it looks a little silly on my own face.

I’m sure he’s thinking the same things as me.

“I swear Snow.”

I nod, but I’m still anxious now that I’ve thought about it. It’s been too long since he came to find me last, and I can’t stomach the idea of what he’ll want next.

“And I guess also, don’t go off? I can’t have you killing yourself in my body.” I’m trying to joke, but it falls flat. What if one of us does die in the wrong body? Do I want to know?

I decide firmly that I do not, and I squash that thought to the bottom.

“Your magic sucks.”

I look over in surprise, and he’s staring at his (my) hands again.

“Like it really sucks. It’s impossible to summon and use, and yet it’s so powerful that the second you get overwhelmed it’s impossible to control.. it’s… it’s awful Snow. I don’t know how you put up with it without losing your mind.” He shakes his head in amazement. “It’s incredible, but it hurts so much. It’s like it’s sucking me dry.”

I hadn’t realised he’d feel everything so intimately.

He wasn’t supposed to know how much my magic hurt.

I’m the chosen one, it should be natural for me.

I shouldn’t be as useless as I am.

“Yeah, well. It’s there for do or die, to do the job of a hero.”

I don’t know why I feel so bitter.

Baz

Snow has somehow managed to twist my expressions into his own, and is currently staring at the notebook like a kicked dog.

I don’t really know what to say, because he’s sort of right. He’s the chosen one, he’s here to save the Mages, so it makes sense that he’s wired to do or die, just like he said.

It’s just a shame he can’t control it better.

Maybe once we’re back in our own bodies we’ll be able to figure it out.

I don’t want to talk about this anymore, so I change the subject.

“What should we do about showering?”

His face twists again, this time nervous around the concept, and I curse myself for being so stupid.

“I have a very specific routine, and I’d hate for you to fuck up my hair. It takes a lot of work to get it that good.” I tack on, but it’s too late, I’ve opened that can of worms.

He hestitates, then looks over at me, at my body. His body. “You can shower. Yeah, um, you can shower… and you should probably write down whatever you want me to do.”

He busies himself in writing, and I try desperately to keep my mind from wandering.

We settle on our list before lunch, then decide that we’ll tell each other’s friends at dinner. There will almost certainly be more to add by then anyway.

I explain to him about my fangs, that if he needs we can always sneak extra food after dinner for him to eat somewhere privately. He’s completely understanding, of course he is, he’s the chosen one with the heart of gold. I explain what to do if they do pop, how to focus on drawing them back up. I’m praying they won’t, but given my personal experience… I can’t risk it.

(When I was younger and far more hormonal, it was an absolute nightmare. The amount of times I’d smell Snow’s shampoo and suddenly be rock hard with my fangs out was truly embarrassing.)

He gives me a run down on how to make sure I don’t go off, now that we know I have his magic the last thing I want to do is accidentally destroy Watford.

Simon

I leave for lunch first, finding Dev and Niall almost immediately. I’m still not really hungry, so I have some salad and an apple and a cup of Earl grey. They’re arguing about something silly when I sit with them, but can it once I sit down.

“Basilton.” Dev nods at me, and I nod back.

“Cousin.”

“You alright Basil?” Niall is much more gentle, touching my elbow as I sit. I’ve always quite liked him, even though we’ve never shared more than a few words over the years. He’s very down to earth, and very nice.

“Fine. Thanks.”

I feel a bit like a lemon saying thanks, but I’m not sure what else to say, and I know Baz isn’t that much of a dick. Not after this morning.

I can tell that neither of them believe me, but they don’t press, resuming their little argument. Before long I’ve been dragged into it, and I can’t help myself but join in. Maybe they’ll let me be friends with them after everything… maybe.

I can smell when Baz walks in, and look over reflectively as he goes and joins Penny. Hes got a plate of food that I approve of, and judging by how quickly he starts eating, he’s as hungry as I had expected. I’m always starving, it’s very odd to not be for one.

I’m staring without noticing it, and only when Dev waves his hand across my face do I snap out of it and turn back guiltily.

“Earth to Baz?”

I open my mouth to apologise, but Dev cuts me off before I can speak.

“Don’t you dare bring up Snow, I’ve honestly heard enough Basilton, just get a move on with it.”

I’m not sure how to respond, so I busy myself in taking a drink of my tea, ignoring the looks Dev and Niall give one another. (I’m very grateful that Baz doesn’t blush like I do, else I’d be bright red right down my chest.)

“Anyway, as Dev and I were saying, magickal history essay tonight at ours? Get you away from Snow?”

Does Baz seriously dislike me that much? That his friends help keep him away from me? The tea is bitter in my mouth and I put the cup down sharper than I intended.

“Maybe.”

They’re looking at me again, not in a judgemental way, not like I’m being annoying, but like I’m fragile. It’s the same as this morning, like I’m - like Baz is someone who needs protecting.

I look pointedly down at my plate, and Niall nudges me.

“We can always do it tomorrow.”

I don’t understand this. I don’t understand why they’re so nice to Baz. They know him better than I do, of course they do, but is there something I’ve missed?

—————

Simon

I reconvene with Dev and Niall at dinner, three potatoes and a small serving of salad on my plate. I’ve got a mug of Earl grey too (I’m constantly craving it in Baz’s body and from the sheer volume he drinks, I’m not surprised).

Baz has plenty of food from what I can see, and there’s a huge pile of scones between him and Penny. I’d love one right now, but I’m really not that hungry. Baz told me not to have any meat, so I haven’t. It smells incredible, but I’m sticking to my word. Baz hasn’t… expressly stated what would happen but… I can only assume.

“Dev, Niall.”

“Basilton, good to see you.” Dev’s mouth is full of food, and my lip curls back in disgust. He just rolls his eyes at me.

“So, any more thought on this evening? Doesn’t have to be for the essay, we can always just smoke a blunt and game.”

It’s a shame, that sounds so much more enjoyable than what I have to do.

“Actually, um, can we talk first? Not here, somewhere private… I’ve got something I need to tell you.”

That catches their attention, and they’re both quick with their support.

“Course mate, we’ll go to ours after we eat?”

We don’t speak much for the rest of the meal, and I can’t bring myself to finish what’s on my plate. (I still wonder whether he has an eating disorder, because I do feel hungry I’m just… nauseated by the thought of everything. Maybe I’ll bring it up to him one day).

As we leave, I catch a glimpse of Baz with Penny and Agatha, clearly having a meal just as awkward as my own. The one blessing is at least Penny and Agatha are chatting to one another so Baz’s silence as he stuffs his face is unnoticed.

Dev and Niall chat as we walk, including me as much as I’ll let them, until finally we arrive at their room.

It’s nice, slightly smaller than my own, and definitely a whole lot messier, but it’s homely. There’s posters on the walls, notes and diagrams and mnemonics taped up wherever there’s space, and it smells like them. It smells like home.

I take a seat at one of their desk chairs, bringing a knee up to my chest. I’m still unsure how to act in Baz’s body, it’s so unfamiliar to me the second I act on anything other than muscle memory.

There’s a moment while we each get comfortable, then the attention turns to me.

“What’s up Baz?”

I don’t know how to phrase it, don’t know what to say, but I can’t risk the news escaping the room.

“Silence is golden! ” Thankfully, neither of them question me.

“I’m… I’m not Baz. I’m Simon, I fucked up a spell this morning and… we switched bodies.”

Baz

Snow returns just over an hour after he left, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been pacing nervously ever since I got back.

“How did it go?”

He’s completely ungracious l as he flops down onto my bed, but he’s smiling, so I can’t bring myself to call him up on it.

“Well, really well actually. We started looking at some possible reversals and… then we got distracted just chatting. They’re both really nice.. but yeah, started some good work. How was it with Penny?”

“I… I didn’t tell her. Wellbelove wouldn’t leave.” And I couldn’t ask her to leave knowing that you two split.

Snow hums, turning to look at me. He’s peeking through strands of dark hair, grey eyes shadowed. I can’t believe that this is really what I look like, and that I really don’t hate it as much as I thought.

“That’s ok, we can tell Pen in the morning. Oh! One thing we did find, a lot of body altering spells only last a maximum of 24 hours, so it might be that by the morning we’re back to ourselves?” He’s so painfully hopeful, so painfully naïve.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’ll only last a day…

“I hope so.”

I need out, I need a shower. I’m about to stand, when I’m reminded of reality.

Crowley, I know we discussed it earlier but it’s such an uncomfortable thought, being exposed to someone else and not even being there for it.

I must look uncomfortable, because he raises an eyebrow at me.

“What’s up?” He slurs my words like he does his own and it’d be infuriatingly adorable if it weren’t for the fact he’s me.

“I know we talked about it earlier but… is it ok if I shower still? I can leave the light off if you want.”

He shakes his head, rolling over so he’s lying flat on his back. He’s swamped by all the pillows and blankets (mine) and for a moment I’m envious that I can’t sleep in my own bed.

“It’s fine. Leave it on.”

I strip quickly once the door is shut, taking care to fold Snow’s uniform. He might not care that it’s always wrinkled, but I refuse to look shabby, even as him.

I start the water, letting it heat up, before I turn to mirror.

Simon Snow is beautiful, utterly perfectly beautiful, and I feel as if I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

He’s absolutely covered in freckles, every inch of golden skin splattered with them. I always imagined how far they’d go. There’s moles dotted across him too, there’s the one on his neck that I can’t help but stare at, but there’s more across his chest and thighs. There’s on on his hip and I want to kiss it. I want to kiss all of them.

There’s a trail of golden hair down his stomach and I trace my finger down it, instantly aware of the goosebumps it raises.

He’s still too thin, he’s not gained the weight he normally would have done by now and I can’t help but selfishly wonder whether my disappearance had anything to do with that.  Yet we’re still opposites. I’m lean and narrow, he’s broad and solid, and I cannot stop myself from picturing how perfectly we’d fit together.

He’s so lovely.

I want him more than anything.

His shoulders are wide and strong, I can feel the muscles beneath his freckled skin as I run my hands across my body, his ribs stick out, but there’s some softness to his waist and hips. There’s golden hair across his chest, and two perfect pale scars around both of his nipples. No wonder I’ve never noticed, I’ve never been this close to him.

His nipples are both hard from the chill and I shiver as I run a thumb over one of them. Has he always been this sensitive?

My mind briefly drifts to Wellbelove, does she know how little it takes to rile him up? Does she know the curve of his waist and the softness of his skin? I can only assume they had sex, but I don’t know. I don’t think I want to know.

I run my hand through the darker curls of his pubes, then down his thighs. They’re soft, softer than the rest of him, and I think of what they’d feel like around me.

If only he wasn’t so painfully straight.

Simon

Baz comes out of the shower and I’m overwhelmed by cedar and bergamot, so much stronger than normal with his heightened senses. It masks the buttery bacony scent of my blood, but not quite enough that I can’t still smell it lingering.

My lip curls back at the thought of it.

He’s wearing underwear and nothing else, much like I often do, but that’s not what catches my attention.

It’s his hair.

He’s styled it. His (my) curls look amazing, I don’t know how to describe it but they’re defined and glossy, framing my face. I heard him using my blow dryer, but I assumed he was simply using it like I do… clearly I don’t know how to.

I don’t like that he’s been me for all of 12 hours and he’s better at being me than I am.

Baz

“Snow, can I ask you something?”

My adventures in the shower had raised a couple of questions, things like the perfectly subtle scars around his nipples, the body hair, the fact he sounded like a man… to put it simply, I was curious. (And standing in my pants).

He’s lying on my bed, one hand in a packet of salt and vinegar crisps and the other thumbing through his iPod. He’s been playing the music out loud for us, having amplified it with my magic. I quite like the weird mix of stuff on it, it’s completely random, very Snow.

He’s tied my hair back into a loose bun, much to my chagrin, but combined with his Watford Lacrosse sweater (once Agatha’s, but firmly claimed by him. I should complain about him wearing his clothes in my body but…) it suits him… it suits me, so I can’t complain too much (and I like the thought of me wearing his clothes). There’s a strand that’s escaped however, and it’s curling across his forehead, a stark contrast from my pale skin.

I look quite… pretty.

“Mmph?” His mouth is full of crisps and I roll my eyes at him.

“It’s… personal, so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but um… how are you trans if everything about you has always been that you were male?” I cringe at myself, feeling my cheeks start to redden. “I mean- sorry, that came out bad, I just mean that everything we’ve all ever heard about the chosen one was that he was a boy, so… how… how are you trans?”

Yeah that was just as bad. Way to go Baz.

He doesn’t react badly though, in fact he laughs at me, covering his mouth to keep from spitting bits of crisp all over my bed.

“I don’t mind talking about it, I never really get the chance to honestly, Agatha and I just… never really brought it up. It was easier not to.”

He catches my expression (I didn’t really know I was making one, Crowley Snow really is an open book) and shakes his head.

“No, not like that, Dr Wellbelove was the one who was helping me physically transition, so it was talked about enough already. Honestly, I’m not sure. I’ve thought about it a bunch, especially at the beginning and I’ve got two theories. The first one is probably true, but I don’t like it as much. It’s just that when people say chosen one, everyone else tends to assume it’s a guy coming to save the world, and because no one knew who I was, it just stuck. The other, is that the prophecy always knew I would be trans, that it’s what I was meant to be…” he hesitates. “I prefer that one, cause then it means I’m not wrong.”

I want to question it, to delve deeper, but I can’t get the words out. I don’t know how to ask it.

“As for my name, Simon Snow is just what was written on my arm when I was found. I don’t - I don’t know if it’s because I was supposed to be a boy and when I wasn’t they got rid of me, or whether they just made a mistake or… I don’t know. But I’ve always been Simon. A couple of the carehomes when I was small used to try and insist I change it to Simone, to be a ‘proper’ girl,” he makes air quotes with his fingers, “but I always refused. Then when I was about 6 I started insisting I was a boy. Penny asked me once what brought it on and how I realised but honestly I didn’t, I just knew. I’ve always known.” He smiles at that, and I’m not sure what he’s thinking. I can’t read him like this, as me.

“When I was 8 they agreed to let me move into the boys wing of the home I was in that year because I’d throw such horrible tantrums if they tried to make me do anything girly. I would just scream and scream until they agreed.” He laughs at that, properly, “can you imagine me doing that now? I think the Mage would just kill me and start over again.”

I don’t like that he’s probably right.

“They decided that if I was going to insist on being a boy, they’d treat me like one until I finally changed my mind and went back to being a girl, but I never did. They shaved my head, took all my girly clothes and toys away, made me play football and rugby and I absolutely loved it. I don’t think they meant for it to actually work, but it stopped me throwing tantrums so they stuck with it. Then I just started getting put into boys homes, and when the Mage found me I’m not sure he even actually knew I was trans at first… I was that deep into it all.”

I’m staring at him as he talks, but I’m completely engaged in his story. His life… his past, it’s so different to anything I could have ever imagined. I don’t know what I thought, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Then every summer the Mage just sent me back to different mixed homes, because once I was at Watford, Dr Wellbelove helped me start on hormone blockers, then start on testosterone in second year… then top surgery in third, then by that point I was so clearly male that the Mage did something to my papers that said I was born male and just started sending me to boys homes.”

What?

“Snow… you don’t… live with the Mage?”

He whips his head around to look at me, eyebrows raised.

“Me? Live with the Mage??? Merlin no, he doesn’t want me to live with him.”

“Crowley, Snow, I thought the Mage found you in care and took you in? Have you been going back into care every summer?” I sound shocked, maybe even a little angry, it’s very hard to control my emotions in this body, Snow’s heart has already started to race, something so utterly unfamiliar to me.

“Yeah well… can’t risk me being somewhere magical over the summer, he said it was better for me to go back to the Normals… harder for the Humdrum to find me.”

“Nick and slicks that’s horrific! He can’t do that to you, just send you back to the Normals each year. What about the Wellbeloves? What about Watford? Any of the Old Families would be happy to take care of The Chosen One, Hell’s Bells, even my parents would have taken you in if they knew. It’s not safe for you to be around Normals. There must have been somewhere better.” I’m pacing between our beds, and he’s looking up at me, chewing on my bottom lip. He looks… he looks almost scared.

I don’t like it.

“That’s just how it is, how it’s always been. I’m safest around the Normals, it’s the safest for the world of Mages and it’s the safest for me. That’s why I went to different homes each summer, to make sure the Humdrum can’t find me.”

Simon Snow’s life is utterly, truly pathetic. I’m actually angry on his behalf, no wonder he’s so upset, no wonder he’s always so thin when he’s back from the summer. I always just assumed that he couldn’t keep up with the amount of food Watford serves and the amount of energy his magic takes up (and having spent the day in his body, it’s a lot, the ache is constant and permanent).

I don’t know what to say. At least this is our final year, so he doesn’t have to go back, he never has to go back.

I sit back on his bed, but the adrenaline is coursing through me (he really is all or nothing. I don’t like how my mind immediately turns to how that would feel if he kissed me).

“Sorry.”

It feels odd, I never really apologise to Snow, I have nothing to apologise for normally, but… I feel I ought to.

He mumbles something in response, shoving more crisps into his mouth.

It’s awkward and I’m finally aware of the fact that I’m sitting in just his pants, so I stand and try and break the tension.

I don’t want us to fight.

Simon

Baz is standing by my bed, pulling on a pair of my sweatpants when he says something that I can’t help but roll my eyes at.

“It’s so hot in here, can we open the window?”

I’m freezing, and the sour taste in my mouth at our conversation has yet to depart. I shouldn’t be bitter about it, and yet I am… I really am.

“You’re the one who insists we keep it closed, you called me a dick for opening it last night.”

“I don’t insist we keep it closed, I ask you politely when it’s cold out if we can shut it!”

“Because it’s easier to get warmer than it is to get cooler! It’s not my fault that you’re so cold all the time.” I’ve got a jumper on and it’s actually mine, I didn’t particularly want to go digging through Baz’s drawers. (Even though I have. Many times).

He clearly has no qualms about it though, seeing as he’s still doing something with mine. I think he’s putting my uniform away.

I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“I can’t believe we’re having this argument from the opposite sides.” He should be angry with me, should be as sour as I feel, but he’s not.

He sounds… like he’s smiling.

I glance over at him despite myself and he is, and I can’t stop myself from smiling too.

“Open the window, I’ll put another layer on.”

Baz

That’s better.

It’s odd, not falling asleep to the intensified sounds of his breathing, but I can hear my own and it’s comforting enough. I know from personal experience that Snow (or rather his body) always falls asleep first so I know he’s lying there staring at the ceiling (I sleep on my back now, it’s easier for my leg. I’m surprised he’s not brought that up yet) and as I start to drift off, I allow myself to hope that tomorrow we’ll wake up as ourselves.

Chapter Text

Day 2:

Baz

We don’t. I’m normally woken up by the sound of Snow bustling around our room, seemingly incapable of not knocking over most of our possessions, but for once I’m awake first.

There’s sun creeping in through the cracks in our curtains and the room is bathed in golden light and I wonder whether this is what it’s like every morning, is that why he’s up so early every day? To admire it? It seems like the kind of romantic thing he’d do.

I glance over at my bed and I see him buried beneath the covers. Most of his face is covered with his hair, and he’s clearly fast asleep.

Does he do this every morning? Look across at me? I’m sure he doesn’t… but it’s nice to pretend. Unfortunately this brief peace is interrupted by the need to pee, so woefully I drag myself out from under the covers. For a moment I almost forget, until I catch sight of myself in the mirror. Perhaps I should start waking up earlier, just to look at this.

Snow’s hair is ruffled, flattened on one side by sleep, and sticking up on the other from where I’ve apparently slept with my hand in it (judging by the wrinkles on my forearm). His sweatpants are hanging off of his hips, showing off that trail of hair and the boxers that I forgot to take off. It’s an odd mix, of too big and too small. The trackies are too loose, baggy in the wrong places, and the boxers are too small, too tight around the hips and thighs.

Nothing ever fits him quite right, I’ve noticed that throughout the years and I realise that I’ve never actually thought why. He’s a completely different shape from start of the year by the end of it, but why doesn’t he get new things? He’s the Mage’s ward, surely the least he could do is give Snow some money for new clothes? It irritates me more than I’d like.

Simon

I’m woken up by Baz and the hairdryer, and I roll over to groan into my pillow. I know without looking that we haven’t swapped back yet, but it’s still not been 24 hours so there’s still time to hope.

I’m up before he comes out, grabbing his uniform together so I can change in the en-suite like he normally does after I shower. I’m desperate to avoid it, but I know I shouldn’t.

Also I’m worried Baz might actually kill me if I mess his hair up.

(I’m more than just worried, I know he will).

We never really talk before we’re both ready in the mornings so it’s quiet as we swap places.

He looks too good in my body again, my hair is perfect, my uniform isn’t wrinkled and I smell like his shampoo again… it’s weird. (It’s weird seeing myself, but weirder seeing him as me, because everything’s wrong.)

I avoid looking in the mirror as I strip. His pyjamas are all silk, soft to the touch as I slide them off. I slept in my Watford jumper, I know he has his own but mine is softer, more familiar after years of wear.

Baz’s elaborate haircare routine is taped to the mirror, and I study it carefully as I wait for the water to heat up. I’m still avoiding looking at him, looking at myself, so I simply don’t.

The routine of it is surprisingly soothing, and I find that I’m calm and ready for the day by the time I finally step out of the tub. It’s hard to make the water feel good unless it’s as hot as possible, but now I actually feel warmed though. I take care with his uniform, spelling it as neat as I can (the last thing I want is for him to shout at me for making him look bad) and then I emerge just like he always does, in a cloud of steam and cedar.

He’s sitting on my bed when I appear and gives a scrutinising once over before nodding.

“Not too shabby Snow. Maybe once we’re back to normal you can try it yourself?”

I should be annoyed by that, but it’s too early and well… maybe I will.

Baz

Bunce knows something is wrong before I even sit down. She’s squinting at me from behind her glasses and the look she gives me as I sit is one that would scare even me in my own body.

“You’re hiding something.”

I’m not sure what to say, I’m so hungry in this body that I’m not sure I’m even functioning (how on Earth does Snow manage to do anything? I can see why he’s always thinking about his next meal), so I just stare at her.

She refuses to break eye contact, simply raising an eyebrow at me.

I respect her so much, she’s one of the few other people in our year that has not only talent, but also wisdom. She’s an excellent mage, and on the rare occasion we do talk, I genuinely enjoy her company.

It’s a shame I’m not currently me, and that Snow’s body is very hungry…

And I’ve made him not look like him.

“Spit it out Si.”

And I crack.

“I’m not Snow, I’m Baz.”

She stares at me for a moment, then nods (another reason I respect her, she takes everything in her stride and just starts trying to work out how to solve it.

“Snow was trying some stupid spell and we ended up here… I don’t know anything more. I was supposed to tell you last night but I didn’t want to get Wellbelove involved. Snow… mentioned what happened.”

She’s nodding, stirring her tea as I talk.

“So this happened- what, yesterday morning? I thought you were off… well, that Simon was off.”

“We hoped it might just be a 24 hour thing but unfortunately not. Snow suggested trying the spell again but-“ I catch myself, then lean in, dropping my voice to just a whisper “he’s got my magic, and I’ve got his.”

Her eyebrows go so high up her forehead that they disappear into her curly fringe.

“You’ve swapped completely. Interesting… if you have each others magic then…” she trails off, looking over at where Snow is sitting with Niall and Dev. “You can’t access each others memories or anything though right?”

I shake my head, I’ve taken advantage of her talking to eat and there’s most of scone in my mouth, but that’s more than enough for her.

“Fine, so a physical swap. Well- no, you’ve got each others magic so… maybe just a swap of consciousnesses? Right, I’ll need to know exactly what the spell was, then we can try and find anything similar to both the spell and to the side effects you two are experiencing. I’ve never seen something like this but I’m sure there’ll be something…”

She chatters away at me while I finish my breakfast, occasionally grilling me about what it’s been like so far. She’s excellent, I can see why Snow likes her so much.

Before we part ways, she grabs my wrist, catching my attention.

“Baz, tell Simon to meet us in the library after lunch.”

Simon

The morning passes surprisingly quietly, I don’t get called on for any questions, there’s no mishaps with Baz and he even answers a couple of questions flawlessly as me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I was better at class, so having Baz help me is… it’s quite welcome.

Come lunch I’m actually hungry for the first time, but I’ve stuck to Baz’s rules and my plate is almost empty yet again, no meat, even though it’s roast beef and I so desperately want some.

I’m earlier than normal today, catching the boys with full plates instead of almost empty. Baz tends of join meals later, but I’ve never really thought about it.

Until now.

Niall’s digging into a large hunk of beef when I join them, and I smell it before I see it. Salty, rich, and delicious.

Fuck.

The hand over my mouth is instinctive, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. There’s a deep burning inside of me, it’s been building subtly but the smell of meat has brought it to the center of my attention…

I’m thirsty.

Dev is looking at me as if I’m mad, but all I can focus on is the sharp stabbing from my gums and the way my mouth is far too full of teeth all of a sudden.

“Basil, is everything alright?” (They agreed we should keep with the names while in public, just to be safe)

It’s all I can do to nod my head, breathing in through my mouth. Baz warned me this might happen and I’m glad he did, because it’s quite hard not to freak out.

I focus on the thought of drawing them back into my gums like he told me to, like sheathing a sword into its scabbard. I think he thought that would help me visualise it better and he’s right, it does. It only takes a minute and they retract, and I breathe again.

(Was I not breathing? Does Baz even need to breathe? I’ll bring it up later l).

I realise that I’ve closed my eyes and I open them again, finally pulling my hand away from my mouth.

They’re both looking at me - worried - and I smile apologetically. Breathing through my mouth seems to be the safer option so I opt for that instead.

“You good? Are you…” Dev hesitates, looking around furtively, “ thirsty?”

I don’t see the point in lying so I nod, “I think so, I’m not sure what it feels like. I’m going to ask him this evening.” So we can hunt.

Niall has thankfully shoved the rest of his beef into his mouth, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.

No wonder he barely eats if this is how his body reacts when he smells meat. This whole time I’ve just assumed he had an eating disorder but this makes so much more sense. No wonder he sneaks out to eat when there’s no one around.

I eat what I can from my plate, but the gnawing pit inside of me is hard to ignore and this just isn’t cutting it.

“Hey, when… when did he tell you guys about-“ I hesitate, unsure how to phrase my question. “About this?”

Dev raises an eyebrow at me, then shrugs.

“I think I found out when we were 10 or so? Then when things started, I was the one person here he could confide in. Meant he had someone at home he could be open with as well.”

Of course, cousins. He’s calm, but I can see a glint in his eyes and his grip tightens just a little on his fork. He’s protective of Baz, far more so than he lets on.

“You’re a really good friend to him.” It’s true but I need to learn to stop saying things without thinking about it. “I’m glad he has you, both of you.”

Dev stares at me for a minute, then he looks away and something I don’t quite understand crosses his features.

“Thanks.”

Niall clears his throat, then nudged me.

“He told me in third year, but I kind of already knew. Someone was going around telling everyone and knowing him as well as I did, I believed them.”

Shit.

I run a hand through my hair, looking down awkwardly. I can’t get over how impossibly smooth and sleek his hair is, I want to touch it with my own hands, run my fingers through it until it’s messy and perfect. I’ve been refusing to slick it back like he normally does, I think it’s much prettier loose, and surprisingly he hasn’t fought me on it.

“I’m glad no one believed me - not even Penny. I didn’t even want to get him in trouble or anything I just… I just wanted to be right about something. To know something concrete about him because I don’t… I don’t know him at all.”

7 years of living together, 7 years of waking up to him and coming home to him and yet being him has made me realise just how truly little I do know. Baz Pitch is still a mystery to me and I wish he wasn’t.

Baz

Snow finds me as soon as our afternoon lessons end and I know what’s wrong before he even has to say it. He’s pale, paler than normal, and there’s a certain wildness in his eyes as he speaks that I’d know anywhere.

He’s thirsty.

I know we’d discussed that it might happen but I’d prayed desperately that it wouldn’t, that I wouldn’t have to show him how to hunt.

But I’m going to have to.

He dragged us back to our room before he told me, keen to preserve my secret which I have to admire, but I’m filled with so much dread that I’m hardly taking in what he’s saying.

“- I’m happy to try and figure it out myself but I’m not really sure what to do, like do you just eat animals or is it people or-“

“ No! ” My voice comes out louder than I intend it. “Crowley Snow, no I do not drink people, I’m not that evil. I drink rats or deer or whatever animals are closest. I’ll take you down to the catacombs this evening and show you. Do not try and do anything by yourself!” I don’t miss the way he flinches back, but I’m so stressed about this that I don’t know what to do. I’m going to have to expose myself to him, show him just what I truly am but I don’t want to. I really don’t want to.

He’s looking at me strangely, then he’s too close to me and he’s taking my arm and-

“Baz? You need to calm down.”

I’m smoking without realising it, and I let him guide me to the edge of the bed.

“Deep breaths Baz, come on, no need to get so worked up.” It’s annoying how soothing his voice (my voice!!) is, because I’m already feeling calmer. For as bad as he is at managing his magic, at least he knows how to calm himself down.

He’s sitting next to me and I almost snap at him to get off of my bed, but he’s me and I’m on his bed and I don’t have the heart for it so I just shut my eyes instead. His hand is on mine now and I hate how much his touch is calming me down. Selfishly a little bit of me wants to think that it’s my touch calming Snow’s body but I know it’s not true… it can’t be.

I take a deep breath then open my eyes again and he’s right there, looking at me with such concern.

“You ok?”

“Fine. It’s just… it’s hard, having to share this with someone else.” I don’t know how else to explain it, how to tell him that I’m so scared he’s going to be afraid of me and turn me in… but also that he might snap and do something terrible in my body. It’s hard being a vampire, the cravings are so hard to fight.

He’s nodding though and he’s still holding my hand and I’m embarrassed that he’s me because that means he can hear how my heart is beating out of my chest. (It’s still weird having a heart that beats).

“I promise you Baz that I won’t think of you any different. You’re you, and whatever we have to do is fine. You need to eat, it’s just a little different to me.” He’s so genuine, so tender with his words that I can’t help but believe him.

I nod, then pull my hand out of his and stand. The attention’s been on me for too long and I’m embarrassed of what he might think of me if I let it continue any longer. “We need to keep thinking about reversals.”

We’ve tried all of the simple reversal spells, both of us. Flip it and reverse it, as you were, the reverse is also true , any basic reversal spell there is. None of them have worked. I refuse to let him try the spell he cast, but eventually we’re going to have to… I just don’t want to risk it yet. It might not work if he does it, but that means I have to cast something powerful with his magic and that’s what I’m the most scared of. I have absolutely no idea how to control it. (It seems neither does Snow, but at least he’s got several more years of experience of it).

“Bunce wanted us to meet her in the library, so if we head now we’ll have most of an hour.”

Simon

Our research is providing absolutely fuck all.

The best has been a few more uncommon reversals which Penny tried on us, then I tried with Baz’s magic, then he tried with mine but none of them worked. I’ve fine tooth combed reversals, body swapping, switching bodies, any synonym for it that we could think of but nothing’s showing up.

There was an entry in an old newspaper that we found that mentioned body swapping, but it was about displacement magic and physically swapping places with someone.

“The library is useless.” I’ve given up on reading and instead have my head buried in my arms. The thirst is making it hard to focus and every time I get too close to either Penny or Baz all I can think about is draining them dry. Hence why my nose is pressed into my sleeve.

“I agree. The Mage’s removal of all the books on old magic has significantly reduced our chances of finding anything relevant… I hate to say it, but we might have to think about looking elsewhere.”

I peek up at Baz and he’s looking at Penny. She raises an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs. (It’s weird seeing them interact, I’ve always thought they’d be an interesting duo and I was very much right).

“My parents have a vast collection of magical books… including a lot of my mother’s. There might be some better answers there, things that haven’t been censored by the Mage.” He’s leaning back in his chair but sitting perfectly straight. I’ve never seen him slouching I realise, he’s always got such perfect posture… it looks alien on me. I’m always slouching, always hunched over myself, but he… he’s so sure of himself, so confident as he walks around with his head held high.

Honestly I’m jealous.

Penny’s thinking, she screws her face up when she’s considering things and I can see the familiar crease between her brows.

“There’ll almost definitely be more information. Your mother’s collection had everything in it, I’m sure there’ll at least be a documented case of it happening in the past.” She pauses, then shakes her head. “I was just thinking that maybe my parents might know more, but… I don’t want them getting involved if you don’t.”

She looks at me and I shrug, then at Baz, who sighs.

“Professor Bunce could certainly shed some light… still, I’d rather do what we can ourselves. It’s just getting home that’s the risk, I can’t go like this and I can’t send Snow alone. We’d have to go together and that…” he waves a hand noncommittally.

That would be a disaster. I could barely convince Baz’s friends that I was him, I most certainly couldn’t convince his parents.

“We don’t have to tell them.”

I surprise myself by speaking, finally dragging my face out of my arm. “We could always sneak into your house. You’re their child, it’s not like you have to explain yourself for being home. Besides, if we just found the books that mentioned it and took them with us we could be there and gone within an hour.” For once not a stupid idea.

Baz looks surprised, then tilts his head as he thinks about it.

“Yes, I suppose… I suppose we could. I can find out when my father’s at work and then the worst we’d risk would be being caught by Daphne but I can easily convince her not to tell father.” He hesitates, then nods slowly. “We could do that.”

I’ve been to the Pitch manor once before with the Mage, it’s a terrifying building and ridiculously huge and the library is basically the same size as Watford’s. It’s an impressive place and could most definitely have answers for us.

“I still think we should just try the spell again though. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” I can understand Baz’s fears, but I still think it’s silly that we haven’t tried. If I can’t do it with his magic, he may very well be able to with my own. Then if it doesn’t work, we know we actually need to be planning some great heist.

Unsurprisingly, he’s quick to shoot it down again and I just roll my eyes at him, dropping my face back into my arm. Crowley it’s hard to do anything like this, I don’t know how Baz does it. I feel sluggish, like I do when I’m back at the carehome, when I’m never full. I can’t stop thinking about biting them and I swear their heartbeats are even louder than normal. The pit inside of me aches and it’s frankly not dissimilar to the feeling of my magic.

I need blood.

Thankfully the bell rings before we can start planning this heist in any more detail, although the fact I now have to sit next to not two, but thirty people with beating hearts and delicious smelling blood is really not a promising alternative.

Baz

Wellbelove joins us for dinner, so I am thankfully spared from Bunce’s chatter about reversal spells. She’s an excellent mage, but it’s exhausting trying and failing to get anywhere with this stupid spell and I am grateful to have an evening off.

The two of them chat, occasionally including me, but I’m preoccupied anyway. I have to take Snow out to drink as soon as possible. I was praying i could delay it, that the thirst wouldn’t come on so quickly but I barely filled up on my last feed and from how antsy and twitchy and avoidant he’s been today I know he needs to… desperately.

I eat a ridiculous amount (I always do in Snow’s perpetual cave of a body), but it’s less than he normally would and Bunce catches on.

“You alright Si?” We’ve agreed to keep pretences up around Wellbelove.

“Fine. I-“ Snow catches my eye from across the room as he heads towards the doors, and I turn back to them. “I think Baz is planning something. I’ll see you later.”

And I’m gone.

He’s changed out of his uniform by the time I arrive and is instead wearing a pair of sweatpants and Wellbelove’s Watford lacrosse jumper. Good, at least he won’t be messing up my uniform. (And it will be messy, I’m expecting the majority of the blood to end up either on him or on the floor. That’s just how it goes the first time.)

Simon

Baz leads me down to the catacombs, explaining about the rats as we go.

“How many does it normally take?” I’m letting him lead the way, but I can see almost as clear as daylight and I know full well that he can’t. He refuses to use a light though, and I don’t push. I know he’s embarrassed about this.

“Between 4-6 but it’ll take you more as you get used to it. It’s hard to drink it all and not spill it at first,” he stops and with my supersonic hearing I can tell where each   the rats skittering around us are, one up the wall, one by Baz’s left foot, two about a meter ahead of us…

”All you have to do is catch them, slit their throats and drink-“ he fumbles around for something, then pulls out a penknife. It’s the one his father bought him in second year, with the ivory handle and engraved blade. I’ve always been jealous of it.  “It’s hard to get used to, so don’t worry about being messy. You can always clean it up.” He’s nervous, I can hear how fast his heart has started beating, how his breathing has picked up and I know he’s scared that I’m going to judge him but I’m honestly just excited.

The rats are surprisingly easy to catch with the advantage of his speed and I’ve got a small pile of 4 dead rats in less than a minute  

He passes me the knife and I drink. He’s right it is tricky and I do spill most of my first two down my front. At least with his functional magic it’s not hard to spell myself clean.

“There was a rat that lived in the girls room of the home I was in when I was about 8.” I reminisce as I drain a fourth one (I barely spill more than a mouthful this time). “We called him Herman and steal stale bread from the kitchen to feed him.”

He’s frowning as he watches me, (it’s weird being able to see so clearly in the dark), but it twists into a scowl as I talk.

That sends a pulse of irritation through me, and I snatch another rat up.

“The CQC inspector didn’t approve of Herman though and they shut that home down like a month later. I got sent to one in Wales instead.”

“Crowley Snow, does every day have to be a pity party with you? I get it, your life sucked.”

What the fuck?

I cast the rat carcass to the floor and turn towards him, wiping the blood from my mouth off on the back of my sleeve.

“What does it matter to you Baz? You grew up in a mansion with a family! You know who you parents are! You don’t have any idea what it’s like. I’m not asking for you to pity me for fucks sake, I know you don’t care about me that much.”

I can see him frown despite the dark.

“I didn’t grow up in a mansion with my family Snow, I grew up in Mummers with you.”

Oh. Yeah. I feel guilty immediately.

He did, didn’t he? Just as I grew up with him. He spends the summers with his family sure but… it’s not the same. It’s not the time we’ve spent together.

“I’m sorry.”

He turns away, but I grab his wrist, tugging him gently back towards him.

“Baz, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine Snow.”

“No.” I’m still holding his wrist, I can feel his pulse under my fingers and I squeeze enough to get him to look at me. “It’s not. I’m sorry we always fight. I want to be your friend Baz.”

Our eyes meet through the dark and he stares at me and for a brief crazy moment, I think he might kiss me and-

He pulls away from me.

“Just finish drinking, Snow.”

Baz

I hate him. I hate him so much.

I’m so desperately in love with him.

I’m a monster, a vicious, soulless, blood sucking monster and he wants to be my friend. He’s spent the entire time we’ve been down here going on and on about how cool I am, how wicked my fangs are, how cool it is hunting rats and I hate him for it. He shouldn’t be so nonchalant about this, about any of this.

He shouldn’t think I’m worth being friends with.

Not now.

Not after all of it.

I’ve been nothing but a dick to him today, but I can’t help myself. I hate that he knows what I am. I hate that I am what I am.

I ignore him the whole way back, I can’t do this now. I can’t be his friend… not when he knows the truth of what I am.

Simon

As soon as we’re back I grab Baz’s silk pyjamas and disappear into the bathroom. If he’s going to be difficult then I’ll stay away from him.

We’re professionals at ignoring each other after all.

I strip, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. I should really fold them, but I don’t care. He can sort his own uniform out.

I start the water (he likes it at a million degrees) and am about to start his ridiculous hair care routine when I catch sight of myself in the mirror.

I’ve never noticed just how clear the difference is after he’s fed… at least not until now. He’s not as pale or as gaunt looking after a feed, there’s a tender rosiness to his cheeks and I instinctively reach up to touch them. His skin is so soft, just like his hair.

There’s a new brightness in his eyes, no longer the grey of a storm but when the sun hits the winter sea and it sparkles with new life.

He’s much hairier than I am (something I’ve always been a little jealous of) but it suits him in a way. Black hair covers his chest, then trails down his stomach to his hips and I follow it with my fingers. It’s coarse compared to the silky smooth of his skin and I shiver at the feeling. I’m feather light with my touches, trailing my fingers delicately across sensitive skin, it feels nicer than being rough and to the point like I am with myself. He’s all narrow and pointy compared to me, but he’s got a perfect waist and angular hips and I briefly wonder what they’d feel like against my own.

I push that thought away quite quick.

There’s a familiar pulsing in my groin as I admire Baz’s body and when I look down, I find I’m half hard already.

I shouldn’t.

I really shouldn’t.

But will I ever get the chance again?

My breath catches as I wrap my hand around myself. He’s heavy in the palm of my hand and still silky soft. Like velvet. I don’t know what to feel. I’m a little dysphoric, but it’s not like normal.

It’s not the normal stomach churning discomfort of being in my body, of my skin being stretched too tight and too uncomfortable in all the wrong places. I don’t feel like everything’s wrong like I normally do, like I’ve been twisted into the wrong shape, but I still feel… wrong.

It’s like I’ve woken up in to everything I’ve ever wanted, but it’s still not quite right. I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s something missing.

It’s not time to think about that though.

I twist my wrist, giving a slow experimental pump.

My knees almost give way immediately from the sensation. It’s so good, so much more powerful than anything I’ve felt in my own body. 

The shower is steaming now, but I can’t bring myself to get in yet. I want to experience this.

I need to experience this.

I start to move my hand a bit faster, but the friction stops me. Without thinking I grab a handful of Baz’s conditioner and the smell of cedar and bergamot sends a pulse of desire straight through me.

I’ve given a handjob once before, last summer. I was 16 and he was 17 and it was a brief fling but it was good experience.

The conditioner is cold and slick and as I give another pump my eyes drift shut.

I think of Agatha, of her long slender legs and her waist and her chest but it’s depressing, reminding me all too uncomfortably of our recent breakup.

Shit.

I try thinking of porn, of pretty blonde women with long hair and… creamy pale thighs marked with strands of dark black hair like ink on a page, wrapped in Watford football kit and in silky black pyjamas and too tight purple boxers and fuck I’m thinking about Baz.

Seriously?

I’m in Baz’s body and yet he’s what I’m using as my wank fuel?

But I’m really hard and thinking about him really isn’t helping that.

I force myself to look down again, at his long slender fingers wrapped around his cock. There’s beads of precum at his slit and I instinctively swipe my thumb through and it feels like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It should be disgusting but I immediately bring my hand up to lick at the pad of my thumb and fuck it’s everything I could have imagined  

For some reason my fangs (his fangs) are out. It should be a turn off, but as I look at his reflection in the mirror, sharp white fangs against soft lips, strands of dark hair curling across olive skin… I’m only getting harder in my grip  

I want to know what he likes, what makes him squirm and so I try everything I can think of. I twist my wrist, fuck up into my palm, try fast and slow and hard and soft and I’m shocked by how close I already am to almost coming. He’s so beautifully sensitive once he’s worked up and I’m overcome by the urge to do this to him in person, as me. 

For now I’ll have to satisfy my curiosity with my imagination… I’m picturing him on his knees, him pinned underneath me begging for me to get him off. Merlin , Baz begging is a beautiful image. I’ve always been pretty dominant, Agatha never had any interest in doing anything other than having me be the man in the relationship so I’ve only ever topped, and god do I want Baz under me. He’s so cocky, so arrogant and selfish and I want to take him apart  

I want him in his own body, these perfect hands all over me. I want to pin him down and fuck him until he’s all pliable and lovely and sweet and perfect under me..

Then him sneering and ribbing me about something afterwards and we’re not fighting but we’re kissing and we’re smiling and-

And I think it might be that thought of us as something more than roomates that sends me over the edge, because there is come splattering across my hand and onto the sink and the floor (oops) and I’m still thinking about Baz.

Coming with a cock is incredible. The release is like nothing else and the rush of endorphins afterwards? Fuck.

It’s incredible.

I’m panting and as I look in the mirror I’m an absolute mess. There’s long black hair messed and sticking to my forehead, and my fangs are out and I’m flushed pink .

Fuck.

I really have to think about this when we’re back to normal.

The shower’s been running untouched for far too long so I finally climb under the scalding water and as I wash the come off of Baz’s body, I’m filled by an emotion that I can’t quite describe.

I like it though.

Chapter Text

Day 3:

Baz

Yet again I wake up before Snow. I must be following his circadian rhythm because by Circe you would never catch me up at this hour. It’s not even 7, but the tendrils of the morning sun have crept through the gaps in the curtains and are coiling round like smoke through our room.

Snow’s forehead is creased and he’s swaddled so tightly in blankets that it looks like he’s trying to bury himself. (The absurdity of the fact that this is what I look like is not lost on me).

I’m struck by the urge to kiss the frown away and I roll over instead. No point falling down that rabbit hole this early.

There’s a book we haven’t searched yet on my desk and I reluctantly drag myself out of bed to grab it, before returning quickly to the covers. The morning air is cold, brisk against such deliciously warm skin.

I comb through the pages, forced to focus all my attention on the words before me (I will force Snow to do something about this before we graduate, it’s definitely holding him back) but it’s fruitless. There’s nothing that could even lead us to an idea.

I go back to staring at him.

I watch him for a little while before an idea comes to me and as quietly as possible (which, seeing as he seems to be innately clumsy, is difficult) I fetch his wand.

I feel guilty already, but what can I do? We need to end this.

I point his wand at him (at me) and focus on the magic under my skin. His skin. His magic. It doesn’t do what I want it to, doesn’t bend to my will like my own does, but I force it. I try to force it.

“A change will come!” His magic rolls off of me in waves, but nothing.

I try again.

And again.

Even I can smell the smoke now, so I give up.

I won’t tell him I tried.

I’ll let him hope a little longer.

He’s awake once I’m dressed and ready, crawling out of his bundle of blankets and blinking sleepily at me.

He’s made my body his own, I hardly recognise myself.

“Morning.”

“Morning Snow.”

We head to breakfast together, splitting once we reach the great doors. If anyone’s noticed our sudden closeness, how often we’re together, they haven’t mentioned it.

Perhaps they think we’ve reached a truce.

I suppose that really we have.

“Morning.” Bunce smiles at me as I sit and I grace her with one in return. (It’s easy to smile in Simon’s body, like his face was made for it.) She can tell I’m still me without saying anything, we don’t need to I suppose, it’s obvious that I’ll never be him.

“I tried the spell. The same one that Snow cast.” It’s out of me before I can stop it, but she needs to know.

“Ah.”

Nothing more needs to be said about it.

“I haven’t told him. I know we should let him try but…” I shrug helplessly, “I don’t know how my magic will react to him. It’s worked for small things, but… this is too much.”

“I agree. I think we ought to make some progress on searching your collection. I’ve been through everything and it’s all gone, all the books on old magic.” She’s rubbing her forehead where the bridge of her glasses meet it, staring down at my plate. I’ve already eaten most of the food I piled on it without noticing. “I was thinking Baz, maybe… well, maybe it would make sense for me to tag along?”

I look up at that, refusal building on my tongue before I can even think about it but I swallow it away.

She’s far better educated than Snow (sorry love) and she’s efficient when using her magic, it could definitely speed up the process…

I’m just not sure if I can risk it.

Brining the chosen one into the Pitch manor is bad enough, but the daughter of Professor Bunce too? My father will be furious. (Although his fury will be nothing more than avoidance and closed doors, so maybe I have less to risk than I thought?)

“I agree.”

She looks surprised, then pleased.

“We’ll discuss it with Simon at lunch.”

Snow has a test in (blessedly) the one class we don’t share and I wonder as I write whether things would have been different if we hadn’t shared a room.

Would we have been enemies for so long?

Would I be so madly in love with him?

Would I perhaps be his friend, and tutor him and help him and show him just how powerful he truly is?

I like that last one quite a lot.

Snow is powerful, in more ways than just his magic. He’s clever, really clever, but he’s spent so long convincing himself that he’s not that he seems to have forgotten it. He picks things up faster than anyone I know, and when he tries (really tries) he could easily be the best in our class. I’ve seen him when he fights and it’s just like the prophecies state, he’s the most powerful being in the world of mages. He has the power to bring us back to harmony… and the intelligence to do it well.

It’s a shame he doesn’t see what he could be, how powerful he could become.

Simon

We reconvene at lunch in the library. There’s no time to waste eating first so Penny is carrying an armful of sandwiches, Baz a pile of scones and other assortments of baked goods. I summon tea once we’re sat, and Penny summons a black board.

What we know:

• Simon and Baz have switched bodies
• Simon and Baz have each other’s magic and instincts, but not memories
• Normal reversal spells don’t work
• All of this happened by accident

“The spell doesn’t work to change us back.” Adds Baz, glancing over at me guiltily.

I raise an eyebrow and he smiles apologetically.

“I tried, several times. It didn’t work.”

I’m about to argue that I should try, but Penny cuts us off.

“I doubted it would anyway, if the spell did this as a ‘change’, then I doubt it would consider fixing you guys to be a change as well, it would just be reverting you to normal.”

She’s got a point.

“In which case should we be trying things about going back to normal?” I know we’ve tried as you were, but there has to be something similar. “Should we try looking for spells for resetting?”

Penny considers it, hesitating over the board with the stick of chalk before Baz speaks up.

“I think the risk with resetting spells is wiping our memories, or you know… erasing things… not saying it’s not worth a try though. We haven’t tried anything like that.”

What we don’t know:

• how this actually happened
• Why normal spells won’t reverse it
• Whether it’s actually reversible

Baz and I glance at each other, then immediately away at that last one, unsure if it’s something we can even acknowledge yet. It may well not be reversible, we truly have no idea.

• whether there’s any documented cases of this happening before

Penny puts the chalk down, turning to look at us both. “I think we need to take advantage of Baz’s house. Mistress Pitch’s books are the best resource we have without asking anyone else.”

The conversation turns to Baz and he explains his plan so far. It’s complicated, but he seems fairly confident and that’s enough for me. Penny takes notes, and by the time the bell rings it seems as if we have an actual plan.

We’re going to Baz’s house.

Baz

I really don’t want to have to do this, but I fear it’s our only option now.

Mother forgive me .

I should have never gotten involved in Simon Snow.

Simon

Niall and Dev have invited me (actually me!) to spend the evening with them.

I’m expecting Baz to yell at me or something when I tell him, but instead he smiles (I’m not sure if I should be worried about going out) and offers to help me pick out an outfit. We’re not going out, I’m simply going round to their room to smoke a blunt and play video games, but I like this weird friendship we seem to have created and I’ll be damned if I don’t want more.

He spends ages rifling through his closet and drawers, before deciding on a button up silk shirt that I’ve never seen before.

It’s mauve, and has a collection of wildflowers growing up across the torso from the hem. It’s pure silk, and he pairs it with black jeans.

I change in the bathroom, I’m not entirely sure why because it’s his body, but I’m glad I have because it gives me the chance to gawp at him.

The jeans are skin tight, and the shirt is utterly stunning. It feels a sin to button it up all the way so I leave the top two undone.

As I stare at Baz’s body in the mirror, all I can think is that he’s beautiful.

When I emerge, he eyes me up appreciatively, something that would feel utterly weird if it wasn’t for the fact it was his body.

“Looking good, here, let me fix the shirt for you.”

And then his hands are on me, retucking and untucking bits of the shirt as he feels, and then unbuttoning it further, so deep I can see his stomach.

There’s a weird stirring in the pit of it.

“Perfect.”

I’m not entirely sure why he’s dressed me so attractive for, I’m just going to hang out with his friends, but it’s a welcome confidence boost. (And if I stare at my reflection every time I catch sight of it, that’s unimportant).

I’m weirdly nervous when I knock, but when the door opens and Niall sweeps me into his arms (that’s new?), I feel at ease.

“Baz!” We explained that they have to pretend not to know when there’s a risk of anyone else hearing (like the very public hallway), “looking sharp mate.”

I elbow him as he pulls away and he laughs, spelling the door as he shuts it. No one needs to hear us get rowdy, he’d said earlier. (And it meant they could call me Simon).

“Baz insisted on dressing me, I have no idea why. I think he just likes seeing himself look good.”

Dev’s sprawled across the beds (they’ve pushed them together and spread all the blankets and pillows they’ve got to make a sort of sofa for us)(I briefly long for the idea that Baz and I could be this close one day) and snorts at that.

“He definitely does.”

Niall gestures for me to get on the bed and I do, getting wedged between the two. I don’t actually have that many friends, I’ve got Penny and Agatha and Ebb. I suppose I’ve got Gareth and Rhys, but I’ve never actually hung out with either of them beyond brief conversations in the common room and at events.

And back home I have no one.

“Here, Si, help yourself.” Dev shoves a bag of crisps at me, and I gleefully accept.

None of us really know anything about each other (except Dev and Niall, who’ve obviously lived together for years) so we chat for a while about ourselves. It’s weird not talking about myself as the Chosen One,

but as Simon, because sometimes it feels like I don’t really know who Simon is.

Baz

We discussed showers, but Snow is out for the evening and… well… it would be a shame not to take advantage of having the bath.

I take my time undressing in the mirror, admiring every inch of skin. I’ve spent as much time as I can looking, taking advantage of my time in his body and yet I’m still amazed at how beautiful he is every time. I’ve mapped out every mole I can reach, committed them to memory so I can dream of kissing them all.

He’s a lot more sensitive than I am, the slightest tickle brings him up on goosebumps and as I explore further, the first touch between my thighs sends a pulse of prickling heat through me.

I’m imagining my face pressed into the soft meat of his thighs as I explore, holding him against me as I slip a finger inside of him.

I want to make him beg for me, for more. I want to draw it out, have him dripping around my fingers and writhing in my grip.

I’m going to figure out every single touch that drives him mad so when I have him under me in my dreams, I’ll know for a fact that everything is exactly how he wants it. And I do, I’m trying everything. If I’m going to make Snow orgasm, I want to have worked for it.

There’s a particular curl of my fingers and pressure of my palm that sends sparks coursing through my blood and it’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before. Wanking with a cock, it’s fast and it’s good and it’s easy but this… the pleasure runs through me in waves, catching every part of my body in bliss. It’s incredible.

I just made Simon Snow come .

I should feel ashamed, but I’m not, in fact I’m elated. It’s certainly not what I pictured all these years of wanting to fuck him, but it’s a whole lot more than I had before. I’ve got enough to fuel my dreams for the rest of my life.

(That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try again at the next opportunity.)

The one thing we haven’t talked about is what it feels like to be one another. Is he loving being a cis man finally? Is it making things worse? Has he had a wank? (If I were him, and I finally had a cock of my own, I’d be wanking at every opportunity. I suppose I already am.)

Is he looking at me in the mirror with the same fiendish curiosity?

Simon

It’s easy talking to them, easy in a way I haven’t felt for a long time. It wasn’t like this with Agatha where I always felt like I didn’t know what to say, with them we just chat. We don’t talk about the difficult things, about the nasty bits, we just chat.

Eventually Niall detangles himself from us (His head was in Dev‘s lap, and my legs ontop of his) and fetches a box from one of his desk drawers.

Dev pokes me in the shoulder (are they always this touchy with Baz?) as we watch Niall roll, and I’m struck by his resemblance to Baz as I look up at him.

“You ever smoked before?”

I roll my eyes instinctively (must be a part of Baz because I never roll my eyes this much) “I spend every summer in a care home without any parents, of course I’ve smoked before. Fuck else is there to do on a summers day?”

I see a flicker of something in his eyes but it’s brushed away and he grins “glad to know the chosen one is more interesting than we give him credit.”

I should be upset by that but I’m not, I’m really not. I do kick him though.

Niall tuts at us from across the room “boys please don’t fight, I’ve got a lovely blunt for you instead.”

They’ve charmed their room that they can smoke in it and it’s so absurd, so ridiculous that I’m currently in the body of my sworn enemy smoking a blunt with his best friends in their room and they’ve magically deactivated the smoke alarm. It’s utterly ridiculous.

Once the blunt is finished, Dev sets up the controllers (how he’s managed to get a tv in here I will never know) and we play.

I’m still in between them and there’s various snacks across us all. I lose every game (we rarely had functional devices at the homes) but I’m enjoying myself too much to care.

They both call me Baz on multiple occasions and we all collapse laughing each time.

We give up on gaming eventually and light up a second blunt. My head is resting against Niall’s hip and he’s got his head in Dev’s lap again. I like how touchy they are, I like being touched. It’s comforting in a way I don’t know how to explain.

“You’re a cool dude Simon.” Dev’s voice is deep, deeper than I’ve ever really noticed and he’s chilled out a bit with the weed in him. He’s normally so loud that it can be a lot to handle, but he’s mellow like this, and I really do like him.

“You’re not too bad yourself. I’m surprised Baz let me hang out with you, I’d have thought the last thing he’d want would his enemy and his best mates hanging out… glad I’m wrong though.”

Niall shifts behind me and I think they’re communicating with each other.

“Simon, Baz doesn’t hate you.”

What?

“But he’s always plotting against me?”

“He talks about you, but he hasn’t actually plotted anything since 5th year.”

I guess he’s right.

“He talks about me?”

“All the time man.”

I’m not really sure what to say, what to think. Baz and I are enemies, we’ve always been enemies. He hates me and I hate him and-

Do I hate him?

When I look at him my chest fills with something that I can’t explain, and my head gets staticky when he’s gone. He fills me with emotions that I can’t explain and… I guess I’ve always assumed it was hate?

But I don’t hate him.

“I’m his enemy.” It comes out more pathetic than I intend.

There’s a gentle hand on my shoulder, so hot on Baz’s cold skin.

“Simon, Baz doesn’t hate you. He hasn’t hated you for a very long time.”

Baz hasn’t done anything to me for a long time, I’ve been convinced he was plotting but if Niall and Dev say he hasn’t then… well… am I the dick? Am I the one who’s been dragging on this feud for no reason?

I think Niall can tell that I’m starting to spiral because he squeezes my shoulder again.

There’s an open bag of salt and vinegar crisps next to me and I take a handful to distract myself.

“So, Wellbelove? What’s it like dating her?” I know Dev’s just trying to be nice and break the tension, but my stomach sinks.

“We uh.. we broke up actually. Couple of months ago.”

“Oh man I’m sorry, breakups suck ass. You’re hotter than her anyway.”

Despite myself that makes me laugh and I smack whatever part of Niall is closest to me.

“Yeah it’s been pretty shit, but bound to happen eventually. I think honestly we were just dating out of convenience… or at least I was. Chosen one needs a respectable girlfriend right?”

I’m higher than I realised and I definitely didn’t mean to tell them that, but I don’t care. We’re friends.

Right?

I can feel Dev moving next to me and I lean back a little so I can see him. He’s looking at Niall with an unreadable expression.

“I fucking hate all the traditions, why does the Chosen One have to be some perfect straight white guy with a perfect popular girlfriend?”

It’s surprisingly insightful of him and I have a feeling it’s coming from somewhere far more personal than he’ll tell me, but I don’t question it. I don’t need to know everything.

Although apparently they do.

“ ‘m not straight.”

I say it without thinking, then immediately clap my hand over my mouth.

It’s not something I’ve even let myself think about, let alone something I’ve mentioned to anyone else, and yet here I am having just told Baz’s friends.

Niall clears his throat before he speaks and he sounds surprised when he does, as if this is something he’s thought about. “You’re not?”

It’s out there now.

“Um- no, well, I’m not gay but I’m not straight either. I- i don’t know what i am, I haven’t really thought about it but I know I’m not straight.”

I’m glad Baz doesn’t really blush else I’m sure I’d be scarlet down to my waist by now.

“I’ve never actually told anyone that.” It feels silly to admit, but I’m sure they’ll have the decency not to tell anyone if I mention it and… well…

The Mage.

“Good on you mate. I think that’s really cool.” I’m unsure whether Dev means the fact I’m queer or the fact I’ve just come out for the first time, but I thank him anyway.

“If you’re single and queer now, does this mean I have a shot with Wellbelove?” Niall’s a little hesitant, worried whether I’ll take it as a joke or not. I do, and I can feel him relax as I start to laugh. He joins in, and so does Dev and the awkwardness is gone.

“Feel free, but she broke up with me so she’s got high standards.”

Dev shoves me and I laugh again. It’s freeing to talk about these things with people that aren’t Penny. I love her, but she’s still Agatha’s close friend and the last thing I want is to cause any issues for her. So I just haven’t really talked about it.

I have to leave eventually, and I thank them both before I go. Niall hugs me again, Dev shakes my hand, and both insist that I am welcome back whenever I want.

I’m filled with a warm glow the whole walk back to my room (and it’s more than just the fact I’m still a little high) and for the first time in a long while, I’m happy. Properly happy.

Baz is asleep when I open the door so I strip and change next to the bed instead of in the bathroom. After having seeing Niall and Dev’s attitudes to one another I can’t help but think maybe we’re not doing this roommates thing very well.

The crucible cast us together for a reason.

Chapter Text

Day 4:

Baz

Somehow Snow’s up before me today, and just like normal wakes me up with his bustling about. For a brief moment, I think everything’s back to normal, that we’re finally ourselves again… but my hope is broken when I feel the familiar tickle of Bunce’s ridiculous homemade blanket around me. Unless I’ve somehow gotten into Snow’s bed, I’m still him.

We don’t bother trying any new spells this morning, we’ve tried everything we know and there’s no point repeating them all (again).

It seems like we really are going to have visit the manor.

Tomorrow’s Saturday and I know my father will be away in London the whole day, so we’ve planned it all, I was just counting on a miracle to save us before we got that far.

Clearly there’s not been one yet.

Simon

We’re sitting on a blanket, me Dev and Niall, a pile of sandwiches and snacks piled in front of us. Baz said it was fine to eat meat in front of them if it was somewhere private, as long as I keep a hand over my mouth at all times.

So that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Now that I’ve told them I’m not straight, they’ve been quizzing me about my love life (beyond Agatha it’s non existent, but when they ask whether I’ve got my eye on anyone…) and I’m telling the truth.

I don’t give any specifics (much to their annoyance) but at least temporarily I allow myself to indulge.

“I’m glad you’re not just some straight boy.” Niall says, nudging me with his foot. “I think the whole chosen one thing is a little stereotypical, especially seeing as from the outside you’re just some cis white straight guy… and you’re blonde.”

I snort, kicking him back. “I’m not cis either.”

Niall stares at me, and Dev turns to look at me curiously.

“You’re not? Um-“

I can practically hear the cogs turning in Niall’s head and for some reason I’m not nervous when I say it.

“I’m a trans man.”

Niall’s nodding, but Dev looks confused.

“I was born as a girl but I don’t identify as one.”

He nods slowly, then realisation dawns on him and his eyes widen.

“Oh!”

“That’s really cool man, so Simon and he/him pronouns is right then?”

Niall shifts so he can wrap an arm around my shoulders and I lean into him.

“Yeah. Um, thanks.”

Dev, turned to face us now, and he’s still clearly trying to work things out.

“Nothing to thank us for man, it’s- um it’s cool that you told us.. I think you’re cool.”

I’m surprised by how emotional I am suddenly, it’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, one I didn’t know I was carrying.

They ask me a couple of questions, apologising as they do, but I reassure them that I don’t mind. I genuinely don’t, if anything I’m glad they’re asking rather than just speculating.

It’s Dev who asks the one I’m not sure how to answer though.

“So, how long has Baz known?” Niall gives him a look, but I shake my head.

“Since the day we switched, I think. That’s when I told him at least.”

Did he know before? I genuinely don’t know. I did everything in my power to keep him from finding out, at least before top surgery I did. I even slept in my binder some nights, just to make sure.

He said he wouldn’t tell anyone and I do believe him, I know he’s trustworthy but… I can’t shake the feeling that he sees me in a different light now, like I’m something… broken and wrong and worth pitying. That look on his face when I told him about going back into care over the summers was like nothing I’ve seen from him before.

“Is it uncomfortable?”

I’m not sure what he’s referring to, so I choose to ignore the first reply that comes to mind.

“Yeah. Not only is he me with my shit magic but he’s trans now too… I feel bad that he has to deal with it all.” My body isn’t a pleasant experience on the best of days.

It’s a beautiful sunny day, and yet I shiver, the chill of the ground sucking what little body heat Baz has, even through the blanket.

Niall pulls away long enough to shove his discarded jumper at me (he’s like me, in just a tshirt even in December) and I pull it on, grateful for the distraction from the conversation.

It’s the perfect day for a picnic despite how cold it is, and I almost wish that Baz was with us. I’d like to hang out with the three of them, properly hang out.

Baz

I’m on my way to Greek when Wellbelove approaches me. We’re in a quiet stretch of the hallway next the library, the same where Snow dragged me into the closet just a few days ago.

“Simon, hey.”

“Agatha, what’s up?”

“Look, I just wanted to say that I think it would be a bit weird if you came over for Christmas still. My dad said you’re still welcome but… I’d rather spend the time with my actual family.”

Cold. She looks apologetic, but it’s clear she isn’t really.

“I’ll send a card.”

“That would be nice.” She’s looking at me in the same way a teacher would a naughty student, in a way that’s pitying and disapproving and yet… also slightly fond.

It makes me feel sick.

I can see why Snow didn’t want to talk about it.

I nod and as I start to walk away I hear her.

“Oh and Simon?”

When I look back she’s frowning, unreadable.

“Whatever’s going on with you and Penny and Baz, keep me out of it will you? I don’t want to get involved.”

And with that, she walks away.

For the first time in Snow’s body I feel chilled. I’ve got to break it to him that his ex girlfriend now hates him so much he can’t see her family, and that he now has nowhere to go for Christmas because of how much his ex girlfriend hates him.

I know the Mage will just try and send him back to care, I’m not sure what other options there are.

At least if we’re not back to normal by then I’ll be forced to bring him home with me.

I could still bring him home with me. It’d be better than being alone at Watford.

I feel bad for him.

Really, really, bad.

Simon

Dev was the one who eve n suggested we have a picnic for lunch, it gives us more freedom to talk without being overheard and it gives me a chance to properly feed Baz (the lack of meat and proper food has been starting to get to me, so I’m grateful for the opportunity to actually eat enough.)

They’re good guys.

We part when the bell rings and I make it to Greek just before the Minotaur does. I catch Baz’s eye as I take my seat and I can hear his heart beat and the corner of my lip twitches up into a smile.

Baz

Snow looks ridiculous, smiling at me in a lesson, so I flip him off. He turns away with a roll of his eyes, but he glances over at me more times than I can count as the lesson continues. I do my best to ignore him, but it’s almost impossible, my own stare sends a prickling feeling down my spine (is this what it’s been like for him?) and I don’t understand what he wants. He’s also wearing Niall’s sweater which I note with confusion, I’ll have to ask about that later.

I’ll also have to tell him about Wellbelove, but I can’t. Not yet.

Eventually it’s too much, and the Minotaur clears his throat and (thank Crowley!) Snow finally turns his attention back to the lesson.

“Mr Pitch, Mr Snow, may I remind you that you are in school?” His tone drips with annoyance. “Please take your attention off of one another and graciously lend it to me.”

We both mumble apologies, and I can feel those cursed cheeks turning red. I will not miss this.

Simon

Baz catches up to me after Greek and hisses at me until I apologise for whatever it is that I’ve done (I’m not entirely sure), then he interrogates me about the jumper. Oops.

“I got cold and Niall leant it to me.” I offer in my defence, and he simply rolls his eyes and storms away. (I will never understand that man.)

I do need to return it though.

I’m not sure what Dev and Niall had just now, but we’re done for the afternoon so hopefully they’ll be around to take it.

I take my time walking into Mummers, dropping briefly by the common room to see who’s in, then heading through the halls.

I turn the corner of the hallway to where the boys’ room is, when I see it. I’ve got Niall’s jumper in one hand and I almost drop it when I realise what’s happening.

Niall has Dev pinned to their bedroom door, and Dev has both hands clenched tightly in the back of Niall’s shirt from what I can see, almost childish in it’s possessiveness.

Niall is crowding him back against the door and I can see the way he’s gripping Dev’s jaw with one hand, the other firmly on his waist and suddenly it all makes sense.

I should have put two and two together from the minute I walked into their room.

The beds pushed together, the gentle embraces, the constant physical touch and cuddling…

Throughout the years they’ve always been together, always talking, laughing, touching, smiling when they think no one else is looking. They share looks no one else can understand, spend every waking minute together. We’ve all always just assumed they were best friends, I always just assumed they were but of course there was always something more going on.

I cannot believe I didn’t realise sooner.

I’m happy for them though. I really am.

I didn’t really know either of them before Baz and I swapped bodies and I always assumed that they were assholes but I know that’s not true. They’re kind and loyal and generous and they both deserved to be loved. They’re a perfect match

They’re so lost in each other that they don’t notice me and I’m grateful for it as I slip away. I’ll give the jumper back later.

When I get back to our room, Baz is in the bathroom and I flop down onto his bed. I wonder if he knows? Maybe he’s known all along and was just hoping I’d stumble by not knowing. Maybe they haven’t told him… maybe they’re not out to him yet? I decide not to bring it up, just to be safe.

The door opens and as I’m about to greet him, I’m interrupted by a tapping on the window.

We both look up, and there’s a blackbird with a piece of paper in its beak, tapping at the glass.

He’s standing up so he opens it and the bird drops the piece of paper into his palm, before flying away.

He doesn’t bother to shut the window.

In fact, he doesn’t do anything. He’s just staring at the paper.

“Baz? What is it?” I fear I know the answer before he tells me.

“It’s the Mage. He wants to see you.”

Shit.

Shit!

I’m by his side in an instant, plucking paper out of his hand.

Simon, please meet me immediately in my office.

Sincerely,

The Mage

He’s signed his name in that awful curling scrawl that I hate, it’s far too professional, he never sends notes like this unless we’re going on a mission.

Shit.

Shit.

There are warm hands on my shoulders and the paper drops from my fingers as Baz makes me look at him, makes me focus on him.

“Snow, it’s ok, we’ll figure out out. We can sort this out.”

We can’t, we really can’t. I can’t say no to the Mage, I can’t refuse to go on a mission.

I tell him as much and he shakes his head, still holding onto me. “If he wants to take you on a mission we’ll just figure out how to reverse this before you go, I’m sure we can find a way to delay him.”

I don’t know how to explain it to him, how to tell him just how awful it is.

But it’s Baz and if he gets sent on a mission…

I can’t risk him being unprepared.

The tears come before I can get anything out and I collapse into his arms. I’m three inches taller than him in this body, but we fit together perfectly.

He’s strong and warm and broad and he’s holding me against his chest. My chest. We sink to the floor together and he’s wrapping me tighter against him. Baz’s body seems to fit perfectly against mine and my face presses into the crook of his neck. (My neck. I’ll definitely imagine this when I’m myself again.)

“It’s so awful Baz,” I choke on my tears, voice muffled by the warmth of his skin. “It’s so- It’s so fucking terrible. There are days where I all I can think is that I’m going to die doi ng the Mage’s stupid bidding.”

Baz

I am holding Snow, I have Snow in my arms and he’s crying, clinging on to me as if I’m the one keeping him safe.

“It’s so awful Baz.”

I know.

I’ve watched it, watched him.

I’ve seen the blood stains across the carpet, the way he passes out half dead on his bed after the missions. We never talk about it. We’ve never acknowledged how when he wakes up the blood is gone, his wounds are healed with familiar magic, and the clothes that were torn and tattered are neatly mended at the foot of his bed.

I’ve seen the nightmares that plague him and wake me with the thick fog of his magic and all I can do is whisper sweet dreams and watch as the terror fades.

I’ve seen how painfully thin he is when he returns from the long missions, the ones where I stare at his empty bed every night waiting for his return.

“I’ve killed so many innocent creatures, I’ve done so many awful things for him and I’ve almost died so much and I- I can’t send you into that. I can’t make you face him.”

---

I’m terrified.

Once I’ve calmed Snow enough to stop crying, he briefs me on what to expect, what to do if the Mage insists on a mission, and how to summon the Sword of Mages (he summons it, we don’t dare have me try… we should question why it works in my body, for once I takes a leaf out of Snow’s book and decide not to think about it). He warns me not to ask any questions, not to speak unless spoken to, and do to what I’m told.

There’s something that goes unspoken between us but I know what it is.

I don’t need to be told twice.

There’s no way for him to come with me, so he says goodbye to me at the door.

He’s scared.

I’m scared.

The Mage is standing in his office (in my mother’s office) when I arrived. He’s wearing his ridiculous outfit (I hate it for so many reasons) and his cape ruffles in the wind as I shut the door.

“Simon.”

He’s facing away from me, looking out of the window down at the school below us.

“Sir.” I stand behind the chair at his desk, looking around the room. He’s changed it up since I was in here last, there’s hundreds of papers I don’t understand taped across the walls. There’s maps, building plans, writing in languages I don’t know…

Whatever the Mage has been using Simon for, it’s extensive.

There’s an uncomfortable silence and I can feel my heartbeat in the tips of my fingers from how nervous I am.

Eventually he turns around and-

Seven snakes.

He doesn’t look like the Mage.

He looks wild, savage, completely unlike the put together (if not a little ridiculous) headmaster he normally does.

He looks vicious.

“We’re going to the clearing.”

Thank Merlin, Morgana and Morgause.

He strides past me and I follow him.

He gives me no hint of what we’re going to, where we’re going to, only the clearing.

We walk through the woods, into the deepest and darkest of it, to the point where I’m stumbling over my feet as I try and push my way through. I’m not sure how the Mage is making his way so effortlessly through the brush and I’m also still not entirely sure where we’re going. He’s been silent the entire time we’ve walked and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more scared than I’d ever been. Even getting kidnapped by numpties wasn’t as terrifying as this.

I have no idea how much time has passed by the time we finally arrive at a clearing. It’s perfectly circular, cratered in the middle as if a bomb went off…

As if Snow went off.

—————

I’ve never actually been this close to the Mage in person before, never watched him so intently. He’s always there, but I’ve never interacted with him beyond brief exchanges, I’ve never had the chance to see him. Not properly.

There’s something about him that I can’t put my finger on, something familiar and yet foreign, I can’t explain it.

He shouts at me again, and I spin, twirling the sword in my hands. It feels like an extension of Snow’s body and for a moment I’m jealous that he’s better than me at this (sword work was one thing I never mastered, I could never be bothered. Why use a sword when you have magic) but then I feint and jab and I’m not jealous, I’m in awe.

It used to annoy me to no end when Snow would practice in our room, swinging his sword so close to our desks that I worried he’d destroy everything, but I can see why he practices so much now. He’s incredible, truly incredible.

I’m not him and yet relying on his instincts alone I’m damn good. If he went off using his sword… I don’t want to think about how much damage he could wreak.

The monster (I’m still not sure what exactly it is, it’s constantly changing as of attacks) roars and dives towards me but I’m on the floor, rolling away from it’s jaws then leaping up brandishing the sword and -

Impaling the damn thing.

It roars in anguish and to my disgust I can feel the vibrations of it through the sword. It’s enough to turn my stomach, but I hold my resolve. There’s a splattering of… something (I closed my eyes as soon as I stabbed it) and then the weight is gone and a breeze of sage infused mist rolls over me.

When I do open my eyes, the blood and guts are gone and the Mage is crouched by the things head, and he -

He pulls out its eye.

(It takes everything in my power not to throw up there and then.)

He’s saying something to me but the ringing in my ears is overwhelming and I simply stagger towards him. Does Snow always feel like this? Like every cell in his body has been filled with concrete? It’s exhausting, it’s agonising. No wonder he sleeps so long when he’s back from his meetings with the Mage, his power takes so much time out of him.

The Mage is still talking and my ears have finally stopped ringing, but nothing he’s saying makes any sense.

He gestures at the creature with his hands and there’s a light in his eyes and (one that I’m not entirely sure is good) and he’s so animated that it’s almost familiar. I tend to avoid the man like the plague and he does the same for me (I have the war to thank for that… and the fact he outwardly despises and disrespects everything my family stands for) and it’s interesting being this close to him though, hearing what he’s planning directly from the source. He’s very passionate, and he pushes his hair back from his forehead (not wearing the ridiculous hat for once) and-

Oh.

Oh.

I see it now.

I can finally see it.

The tilt of his nose, the jutting out of his jaw, the curve of his lip as he frowns.

I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.

I couldn’t place it, purely because I didn’t recognise it. Because my mind wouldn’t make the connection.

There’s a reason the Mage looks so familiar.

He looks like Simon.

I have spent so many hours admiring Snow, so many hours daydreaming about every inch of his body. I have woken up by his side and fallen asleep in the same place every day for 7 years.

I know his face better than my own.

I would know it in the dark, I would know it by touch alone, in every lifetime. I have committed it to memory.

And I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.

Now that I’ve noticed, I can’t stop. The lick of hair that curls behind his ear, the angle of his cheek bones, the shape of his eyes.

Snow’s face is rounder, his skin covered in freckles, his hair is blonder and curlier, his eyes bluer, his lips fuller and his eyebrows thicker, but the similarity is blinding.

Is the Mage Snow’s father?

How?

Why?

What?

Simon

Baz is back before midnight, long enough that I’ve managed to pace the entirety of our room about a million times, thrown everything on my desk at the wall (then put it back with Baz’s magic… and then threw it all again), I’ve tidied all of my clothes, arranged everything in the bathroom by height order, tried (and failed) to read a book, and even done all of my homework.

The static in my head when he was gone at the start of the year was back, and I kept glancing over at our empty beds. I try not to think about it, I do my best not to think about it.

I’m on him before he’s even through threshold and I can see in his eyes that for a moment he thinks I’m going to hit him, his lip curls, ready for anathema but I’m hugging him.

I can’t let him go again.

I pull back before he can react, hands on his shoulders as I stare at him. Is he injured? If the Mage so much as touched him I’ll- I’ll-

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

Baz

I can’t look anywhere but into his eyes, my eyes. He’s scanning my face, searching me and I don’t know what he’s looking for. He looks… he looks nervous, angry, maybe even scared?

“Simon–” I start, but I can’t get the rest of my sentence out as Snow presses his mouth against mine.

Simon Snow is kissing me .

I can't breathe, I can't think. There's only him.

I've never kissed anyone before but I'm a fast learner. I push back against him and run my hands through his long hair (I’m smug to notice it’s just as soft in his hands as I’d hoped it’d be).

The door is still open.

He’s noticed it too, waved his hand and the door shuts. How? I can’t do magic like that without my wand, let alone without moving my lips.

Speaking of…

His (my) lips are a little chapped, but soft and eager. It feels suddenly like the weight I’ve been carrying for years has been lifted off of my shoulders and I take a breath, light and desperate as I kiss him back.

He pushes even harder against me, and when my back meets the wall he chases me with his hips, pressing up against me so that every inch of our bodies are touching.

I've seen him kiss Wellbelove, I’ve fantasised about him kissing me and the passion with which he does it is exhilarating . He barrels forward just like he does with everything else, and he really truly is all or nothing.

I’m the first to pull away though, letting my head fall back against the door as I stare up at him. My hand is still in his hair and I push it back away from his face, unable to keep my gaze from flicking to his lips. They’re plump and wet with spit and he’s- I’m beautiful.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, undoubtedly to spiral, but I stop him.

“How long?"

"I don't know," he leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes, skin cool against my own flushed, "I didn't think this was an option, so I didn't think about it. Until about a week ago I was still convinced I was straight.”

Typical Snow. I will never understand how he can just choose not to think.

“5 years. Longer really, but I realised in third year.” My voice is shaky, every emotion I’ve felt today all suddenly rushing to the surface. I feel a little bit as if I might collapse.

"You called me Simon," he breathes, still inches from my face.

“No I didn’t.”

"You did. Before we kissed."

We kissed. He acknowledged it, it was real.

“You kissed me.”

There's a glint in his eyes.

“I did.”

And then his lips are on mine again.

This time it’s not hungry, not as frenzied. Our mouths meet in gentle reverie and the tenderness is too much.

A tear slips down my cheek and he jolts back, a hand coming up to my cheek.

He’s kissing me as if the world is ending, and maybe it is. I don’t care if it does.

We’ve got right now, got the rest of this year and then our destinies will pull us apart. Perhaps they’ll push us together again and I’ll finally die at his hands. If this is the only time we get with one another, I’m going to enjoy it.

Chapter Text

Day 5:

Simon

Baz is fully dressed by the time I wake, sitting at his desk.

I’m not sure what to say to him, not sure how to say what’s going on inside my head.

I think I’m in love with you, I want to kiss you again, and I wish we were back in our own bodies so I could finally get my hands on you.

I obviously don’t say any of that, and instead mumble a good morning at him through my face full of duvet.

He looks at me and for the first time, he smiles when he sees me, and my day starts with me and Baz on good terms.

That’s never happened before.

He’s laid out an outfit for me and he’s wearing his own clothes (I’m impressed he’s managed to make me look so good), and I know he’s nervous.

I’ll be pretending to be him for the day, he’ll be pretending to be me.

I can’t mess it up for him.

Baz

I brief Snow on everything over breakfast, I’m eating with him and Bunce for the first time and aside from the weird look we get from Wellbelove, it’s… fine. It’s all fine. I guess people don’t care about our rivalry as much as we do.

We’re stealing a car (Bunce put up less of a fight about it than I thought she would) and leaving for the Pitch manor at 11. We should be there around lunch time, then we’ve got until 3. Father doesn’t even finish work until 4 but I don’t want to risk it. Knowing the pair of them we’ll end up leaving late anyway.

I texted Daphne and she agreed she wouldn’t tell father as long as we left her out of whatever we were planning, so at least we won’t be caught.

Realistically I’m not sure why I’m so scared about getting caught in my own home using my own library to study, there’s no harm in bringing Snow there. He’s technically not a threat to my family with me there and my father is too polite to do anything about us being there so…

Why am I so scared?

Ignoring the whole… body swap… thing… of course.

I think I’m always scared.

For different reasons.

At home I’m scared of being outed, of being found out to be the ender of our line of Pitch’s. I’m scared of my family finding out that I’m in love with the bloody Chosen One. I’m scared that I’m everything like my father and nothing like my mother. I’m scared of being the monster they think I am.

At Watford? I’m scared of being outed, in both senses. Snow’s tried his very hardest to prove that I’m a vampire and I’m so very lucky that no one’s believed him because I know what they’ll do to me.

Then the Pitch family will die with me in shame and exile. I’m also scared of Snow. I’m not scared that he’ll hurt me, or that he’ll kill me (except he’ll forever be the cause of my pain and I’ll die at his hands) but I’m scared of what this closeness will bring. I’m that I am well and truly flying too close to the sun. My wings have already started to melt.

Everywhere else? I’m scared of who I am. Of who I could be. Because I have absolutely no idea.

I don’t really know who Baz Pitch is.

Simon

I sit in the front on the drive. Baz is the only one who knows how and as much as I’ve tried to convince him that the muscle memory would still be there, he refused to let me behind the wheel.

I can see how nervous he is and I have to fight the urge to hold his hand as much as I know we couldn’t (we’ve taken a manual car and Penny… after what happened yesterday I don’t think either of us need it to get out). I’m nervous too. It should be ok.)

Baz refuses to let us do anything other than go directly to the library and he insists on us all staying well away from Daphne. I argued that I could easily pass for him but he’s quick to shut down any suggestions.

I don’t push it, I know he’s deeply uncomfortable with this whole situation.

We go through the library with a fine tooth comb, piling every book with mention of body swapping or exchanging in the middle of the floor.

As fun as it is being in Baz’s house, I’m quick to grow bored of flicking through countless pages of dusty magical textbooks and I decide to go explore instead.

That lasts all of a minute and a half.

Because suddenly Baz has followed me into a dark corner and I’m definitely not thinking with anything other than my dick when I push him back against the wooden shelves, my mouth chasing his.

Baz

The fact that Simon Snow is kissing me with my own lips should be uncomfortable. It’s not.

I’m not sure why.

He still kisses like he’s hungry, one hand on my waist and the other on my shoulder as he pulls me into him. It’s needy, but playful and I nudge his knees open so I can press between his legs, pushing his hips further back against the shelves. It’s bad enough that we’re in my family but we’re also right in the depths of my mothers ancient (and valuable) books and I really should feel guilty about that but then he slips his fingers under the hem of my shirt and they’re so deliciously cool against my burning skin that I forget all about it.

“Oh good, you’re swapped back.” Bunce’s voice sends us jumping away from one another, guiltily trying to hide the fact that she had in fact caught us making out, as if she hadn’t very clearly seen us.

Snow shakes his head, seemingly trying to hide himself in his hair.

“No… we uh… we thought that maybe it might make us change back.” Sure Baz, because that’s totally convincing. “It didn’t though.” and that was utterly lame.

Thankfully, she seems to buy it. “Fine, well seeing as that’s a bust, why don’t you carry on doing some actual research? It’s weird enough that you’re kissing each other, let alone the fact you’re kissing yourselves.”

We part, sharing embarrassed glances at one another as she stalks away. We really need to be careful about this, Snow’s sworn not to tell Bunce until everything is back to normal (and we’ve figured out.. what we are).

Simon

I do feel guilty. I really ought to tell Penny, she’s suspicious of us anyway, but if I get to keep kissing Baz in secret… well, she can wait a couple of days.

Kissing him, kissing myself , has lead to a couple of interesting realisations about myself.

I don’t look like a girl.

The more I see Baz in my body, the more I see myself from a different angle…

I don’t look like a girl.

I’ve spent so many years picking apart every single inch of my body, convincing myself that everything screams feminine and yet… it really doesn’t.

My voice is deep and husky, my waist is curved but it gives strength to the broadness of my shoulders, my legs are strong and powerful, and… well… I look good.

And now that I get to be more intimate? I like how strong and warm my chest feels, especially on Baz’s icy skin. I like how my hands look, and I like that my shirt sleeves cling to my arms a little when I move. I know that most of my clothes are the wrong size, but the uniforms are tailored perfectly to fit like a glove and as much as I’ve always hated the way it looks in the mirror… it really doesn’t look bad in person.

Also knowing that Baz, the Baz Pitch, (easily the most attractive man alive) thinks that I’m attractive? That he’s been into me for so many years? It feels good.

For the first time in my life I don’t feel sick at the sight of my own body when I look at him… and if anything, I’d quite like to be back in it. I like being Baz, I like being cis but, the more I think about it, the more I actually quite like being me.

I think it’s the first time I’ve ever felt this way.

I think it’s the first time I’ve ever liked myself.

Baz

We’ve piled everything the fine tooth comb has found for all our possible searches in the middle of the library, and we’ve been going through them one by one. We’ve cleared half the stack already, but there’s still a good 50 odd books left to go and we’re seriously running out of time. I ended up telling Daphne and she agreed not to tell my father as long as we’re gone before he came back. Embarrassingly, I’m the slowest of us all, what with the words floating off the page (and blurry! I’m beginning to think he needs glasses) and being unable to use Snow’s magic to filter through the books, it’s taking me far longer to flick through them.

So far we’ve found nothing useful, just suggestions of trying what we’ve done already.

Bunce is searching through four books at once, and Snow’s clearly distracted by something as he flicks through the book he’s holding. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, I can’t read the expression he’s making but I’m not entirely sure it’s good.

This is hopeless.

We call it a day, returning the books we’ve been through to their rightful places, then loading the books we’ve yet to go through into the back of the car. We really should feel guilty for stealing it, but it’ll be back before anyone notices… (I hope).

I drive (even though it feels so painfully unfamiliar in Snow’s body, clearly he’s never driven before) and Snow and Bunce sit in silence. We’re all disheartened by the fact we’ve been so unsuccessful, and I can’t stop the tendrils of anxiety creeping through me at the prospect of getting stuck like this. I know logically we won’t, we’ll have to tell Professor Bunce and the Mage and let them figure it out for us but… I can’t be the chosen one. I can’t live like this.

We neatly return the car to where it came from and bring all of the books back to our room (I still don’t know how Bunce gets into Mummers).

Simon

I can tell Baz is upset. It’s not hard to read his emotions in my body (am I really this much of an open book?). Penny leaves after we get all the books inside and I’m glad, because it means I get to do this.

I join Baz on the bed and catch his cheek with my hand, tilting his face towards me. He goes easily, eyes falling shut as I bring my lips to his.

He’s so perfect.

I’m on my back with him on top of me when I remember, pushing myself up (and him off of me).

“Snow?”

“Fuck- Baz, football!”

We’d remembered this morning that he had practice this evening, and he’d made me swear I couldn’t miss it seeing as he’d only just been allowed back on the team.

He looks a little dazed, holding himself up on one arm to keep from falling off of the bed. Then he realises.

“Crowley, I almost forgot!”

It’s a mad rush, but we manage to get to the pitch on time. He joins Niall sitting on the stands and I find Dev on the pitch.

Baz

This is appalling.

Snow can play football, thank Merlin, but he’s awkward and clumsy and frankly it’s humiliating to watch.

Niall can’t stop laughing, both at him and my reactions to him and I can’t help but laugh along with him.

When they finally stop for a break, I see Snow and Dev go off to get water together and I don’t miss how Niall’s staring.

I dig my elbow into his ribs and he smacks me, squirming away from me.

“What?”

“You know what! Do you have something to tell me?” I raise an eyebrow even though I know it’s not as powerful as it would be in my own body.

Our eyes meet, and he turns bright red, and I know it.

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Absolutely I am.”

He groans and shoves me again, looking over at where the two are sitting on the edge of the pitch. “You’re a menace. Dev and I are dating.”

Finally! I was truly sick of seeing them fumbling around their feelings for one another. (I suppose they feel the same way about me and Snow). “And how long have you been dating my darling cousin?” I slip a hand over his thigh and bat my eyelashes at him as he turns a darker shade of red “and are you sure you chose the right one?”

“You’re the worst Basilton. Get your hands off of me before Dev sees, you know how jealous he gets.” Niall and I made out once in fourth year and Dev refused to speak to either of us for a week. I greatly enjoy flirting with Niall on occasion and watching his expression change and him scramble for an excuse as to why me flirting with him bothers him.

“It’s been three weeks… I would have told you sooner but-“

But Dev.

He’s still not out, but I suppose neither am I. Our family would be less disappointed by him being queer than me, but… it’s scary. So much tradition and heritage that would be broken by something as simple as wanting to marry a man instead of a woman… I can’t blame him for not wanting people to know. How could I? Not when we’re in the same boat.

The whistle blows and I groan, turning back to the pitch. “Honestly, I look like I’m drunk… or severely concussed.”

“It’s like he’s forgotten how to use his legs.” Niall says in amazement and I bury my face in my hands. Maybe it would have just been better to skip practice and avoid whatever this is. He’s not even playing badly, he’s scored two goals, it’s just like someone’s spun him around 20 times and then put him on the pitch. It’s not easy adjusting to the wrong body but still…

They’re both sweaty and muddy and exhausted by the time it’s over and I am very glad that Snow is far away from a football. I’d be interested to see him play in his own body, but from now on he’s banned in playing as me.

He’s arguing with Dev about something as they come to meet us, but he quickly shuts up once in earshot and instead flops down onto the picnic blanket next to Niall.

“ Don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to-“ Niall’s cut off in his protest by Snow glaring at him (it’s good to know I’m still scary looking such a mess) and Dev just laughs at them.

It’s a nice feeling, being around my three favourite people (although I’d sooner die than admit it) and I’m grateful that this has sparked a friendship between my friends and Snow. After all my years of plotting and hatred I was worried they’d have been turned against him but clearly the charm of the Chosen One is hard to resist. He’s too pure, too genuine and passionate and lovely, it makes it hard to dislike him.

“Hey Baz,” Dev’s voice brings me out of my thoughts and I look up at him, he’s wearing that insufferable smirk of his and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes at him. “I was saying to Simon earlier, maybe you guys gotta make out or something to break the spell. Y’know, true love’s kiss .” He waves a hand between the two of us and I don’t know what to say. We tried that already and it didn’t work? We almost had sex last night?

Luckily, Snow saves me by snorting. “Surely that would mean we’d have to be be in love? I don’t think Baz is capable of loving me. Last I checked you don’t tend to try and murder the people you’re into.” I know he’s trying to change the topic, but it still hurts. He knows how much I feel for him. I haven’t told him I love him but…

“I’ve already told you I was just trying to scare you with the Chimera and the stairs were an accident.”

I don’t miss the look Niall and Dev share, and I tactfully turn my gaze away. I don’t need them seeing the shade of pink my cheeks turn. Curse Snow’s human body.

Thankfully Snow just flips me off “ stop swearing like a normal.” and doesn’t mention Philippa.

“I’ll swear however I like.”

We head to dinner together, Dev and Snow both still sweaty and muddy. I know we’re getting weird looks having Snow (me) sitting here but I don’t care enough to do anything about it. Let the people wonder. Let them assume something about why Baz and Snow are sitting together.

I’ve given up on pretending to hate him.

After dinner we head down to the catacombs, Snow admitted that he was thirsty again and I refused to let him go alone. (I wish I didn’t have to see it, but I also can’t bear the thought of him hunting by himself.)

Simon

I’m definitely a lot better at this the second time around. I spill about half of my first rat, but I don’t spill any of my fifth and I keep the main body of my shirt intact, it’s just my hands that are stained crimson by the end of it. (And the little dribble down my chin). I need to shower when we get back anyway, so I’m not too fussed about the mess.

Baz watches me from the corner of the room, although I know he can barely see me in the light. I’m quite glad, I don’t want him to watch me. I know he’s already insecure about it all.

My left leg is agonising. It’s been painful all week, but after the football… it’s almost nauseating.

I’ve been trying to pretend that the pain hasn’t bothered me, that I haven’t noticed, but it’s gotten to the point where I just can’t anymore.

We barely make it back to Mummers before it gives way and I collapse back onto his bed, reaching down to rub at it, wincing uncomfortably.

Baz immediately notices, and he’s about to ask if I’m alright when he realises what’s wrong. His expression grows cold, a little sour and I wish he wouldn’t shut down like this… but I’m more than aware I do the exact same thing.

“A hot water bottle will help.” He says, stiff and more than a little uncomfortable. “Painkillers don’t help but some rest will.”

Frankly I’m too tired to push, so I don’t. There’s a hot water bottle under his bed - already full of water - so I just reheat it with his magic, and I fall fast asleep with it clutched against my thigh.

We’ll talk about this in the morning.

Chapter Text

Simon

I’ve been trying very hard to ignore how easy using Baz’s magic is. It’s just there, ready and waiting. It flows through me, constant and perfect and part of me. It comes when I want it, it works every time, it’s always as powerful as I intend it to be and it’s… it’s everything it’s supposed to be.

It’s what my magic is supposed to be. Natural and easy, not like a bomb. It’s either too much or not there at all, a deep itching hole inside of me that I can never quite tame.

I’ve been trying very hard not to think about it.

But.

It might be the thing we need to end this.

Baz is sitting on the bed and I’m facing him, holding his wand in my right hand and the iPod in the other. I’ve got the earphones in, just like the first time and the song playing through them. Baz’s enhanced hearing makes it almost uncomfortable but I keep it in.

I focus on the spell, light the match in my heart and blow on it just like Baz taught me. I can feel his magic thrumming in my veins and and I draw on it, pulling it up through my and into the wand.

“A Change is Gonna Come!”

Baz’s magic washes over us but I know before I open my eyes that nothings changed.

“ A Change is Gonna Come!”

Nothing.

I’m going to try again, to cast it one more time but a warm hand on my arm stops me.

“It’s not worth it.”

He’s right, I know he’s right.

But if this has failed then that means we’re stuck. If the books have nothing then we have to tell the Mage.

I drop my hand, tucking his wand back into its holster and pulling the earphones out of my ears.

He pulls me down onto the bed next to him, intertwining our hands. It’s incredible how warm he is, how good it feels when I’m so cold (I will be holding his hand all the time now I know how it feels… and I need to know how his cool palm will feel in my own hand… for selfish reasons).

“I’m sorry.” I breathe, leaning against him. I’m not even sure what I’m apologising for, but he releases my hand and winds an arm around my shoulders. We fall back onto the mattress together and I tuck myself into his side. We fit perfectly together.

We’ve only got a few minutes before breakfast, so we just lie there, together.

I think he might kiss me before we leave, but he doesn’t… and I don’t kiss him either.

I sit with Dev and Niall like normal, sipping on my Earl Grey. They’re discussing something but again I’m not listening.

“How did you know you two were in love?”

They both stop, cheeks flushing pink as they share a look they think I can’t see.

“Um- we’re not- did Baz-?” I can hear how both of their heartbeats have picked up and Niall stammering is really quite cute (I can see what Dev sees in him). I roll my eyes, nudging whoever’s closest under the table.

“Boys, relax. I uh.. I walked in on you the other day and you’re really not good at hiding it.”

Dev takes a shaky breath, and I see Niall take his hand under the table. Interesting, the Grimm family only knows about the one queer kid then.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, swear on it. I just- um… you’re the only queer couple I know and I want… I want to know if… if you can help.”

Their hearts are still fast, but their expressions have changed now. I can’t quite read it but they both look… almost excited?

“I’d known for a long time.” Niall admits. “One day in third year I realised that the feeling I got in my chest every time I saw Dev was more than just liking him as a friend. I’d realised I was gay about a year before that and Baz-“ he freezes, eyes widening.

I roll my eyes again. (It’s instinctive in this body) “I know. Don’t worry, you haven’t outed him. We came out to each other… about everything.” We did more than that, but I can’t tell them that. Baz would actually kill me.

Niall nods, relief washing over him. I can practically smell it. “Good, I’m glad he told you.. yeah he uh, he was really supportive of me. I think he’d known about my feelings for longer than I’d know myself… Well, I know he did. I reckon he’s known we’d end up together since the day we met.” He glances over at Dev and the look they share makes my heart melt. They’re so clearly in love.

They’ve spent every day of the past 7 years together, talking, laughing, loving, living. They’ve done what Baz and I should have. They’ve become part of one another, utterly entwined. Dev’s whole demeanour changes instantly around Niall, he’s so loud, so boisterous and frankly a little bit of a dick normally (I never liked him as much as I did Niall) but he’s peaceful and in love around his man. They still get rowdy together but it’s different, it’s less vicious.

And Niall…

I spoke to Niall on my first day. I was scared and overwhelmed and I had a plastic shopping bag with a pack of clean underwear and clean socks and nothing else, and he saw me in the corner and said hi. He wasn’t wide eyed like everyone else on the presence of The Chosen One, he didn’t treat me like I was something Holy… he just said hi. He was quieter then, much more anxious about everything. Dev has brought him out of his shell, given him a chance to be himself and it’s clear just how much it’s helped. He’s unrecognisable nowadays.

They’re perfect for each other, truly perfect and I’m glad they’ve realised it too.

Niall’s looking at Dev again and they’re both so clearly lost in each other.

“I came out to Dev after I did Baz and I think that was when I fell for him but I just hadn’t realised. He was so supportive, so protective.”

The feeling in his chest I know all too well, a sort of emptiness that I can’t describe. With the buzzing of Baz’s absence it’s awful, makes me feel rough and itchy and… and I can see why I thought that was hatred. Because it made me feel so bad when he was gone that the rush of emotions I felt when he was back was too overwhelming.

“I fell for Niall last year.” Dev’s looking at me now and I can see the softness in his gaze. I wish I had memories to look back on like that but with Baz it’s all been violence and insults and Agatha… well… it’s all just neutral.

“It was a specific day in October because we’d just started back a few weeks ago and it was a miserable cold day and I was at football practice. And he was there watching me as always and I was having a bit of a shit day in general… and I missed every goal and when we finished I just wanted everyone to fuck off and he comes up to me and gives me a thermos of hot chocolate and puts his blanket around my shoulders because I was wet and cold and he did it without thinking, like it was so natural for him to be so gentle with me and I-“ he hesitates, looking down at his hands. “I knew then that I couldn’t picture the rest of my life without him. He was everything I needed and he loved me. I hadn’t even told him I was gay yet, we’d talked about it but I hadn’t properly come out… then he did it again at practice a couple of weeks ago and I asked him out there and then.”

I was at that practice (I go to all of Baz’s practices and games) and…

And I know Baz and I discussed it all briefly but…

It’s all finally making sense.

Have I been in love with Baz for that long?

“I can’t stop thinking about h-them. And every morning when I wake up the first thing I think about is them-“ I’m doing a truly terrible job of being secretive, so I just give up. They know anyway. What’s the point in hiding it? “-and he’s the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. I… I thought I hated him but… I just want to be near him all the time and I get jealous when he doesn’t talk to me, even if all he does is insult me or threaten me because he’s still talking to me? And- and I wanted him to be plotting all the time because at least it meant he was thinking about me and I would take him thinking about me even if it was about hurting me over him ignoring me any day because I can’t.. I can’t have him ignore me again. When he’s not there or when he blanks me it’s like my head is full of static and I can’t function because it feels like there’s something wrong.” I’m out of breath, but now that I’ve started it’s all coming out. It’s been building for so long that I’ve not even admitted it to myself.

“And I really want to hate him but I can’t because I just want to know everything about him. I want to be his friend, I want to have game nights and get drunk and sneak out and do normal friend things with him!” Like you guys do (I guess I can’t really compare us now) “I want to hate him because then it feels less wrong than liking him but I can’t. I’ve tried so hard to hate him.” I’m twisting my napkin up as I speak and I drop it into my lap, finally braving the eyes of them both. “I take him hating me because it’s something, even if it takes us fighting to be close, I’d rather have him punch me than ignore me.” I feel lame, embarrassed by my profession of love but I can’t deny how much better it feels to have finally said it.

It’s Dev who speaks first this time, leaning forwards a little as he does.

“Simon… I’ve spent the past 7 years hearing non stop about you. Everything you do, everything you say, I hear about. And from what I’ve heard, Bunce and Wellbelove have had the same problem.”

I have the decency to look embarrassed.

“I have heard every plot, every conspiracy, every bad thing Baz has to say about you and at some point around fifth year I stopped being convinced he meant any of it. It was like he’d given up on trying to take you down, and was just using hating you as an excuse to stay close to you… not that he needed to, your stalking in fifth year was fucking creepy mate.”

Thank god there’s no blood in Baz’s body because if I were me I’d be red down to the tips of my toes by now.

“I- uh- sorry-“

He cuts me off.

“Save it. You both wanted to be enemies so badly that I think you forgot what being enemies was supposed to be about… I can’t lie, I was kind of bummed, no offence but I did enjoy watching him humble The Chosen One. I mean, he had spent 5 years hating you the least I could do was hate you alongside him.” I can’t even be upset by that, I mean how many times have I insisted to Penny that Baz is evil? More times than I can count!

“And I think that you two needed each other in a way that… that us lot can’t really understand. Son of one of the most powerful Mage’s, heir to a lot of power with the Old Families and The Chosen One with nothing… I think you guys were supposed to be friends and when you realised it, it was too strong to keep you hating each other but too late for you two to do anything about it.”

He’s completely right.

I feel like crying. I feel like finding Baz and hugging him until I force us to swap back. I want to undo the last 7 years, start again and make it work for us…

I want a lot of things.

“Like I said before mate, Baz doesn’t hate you.”

I know Niall would never admit that Baz likes me.

But Baz did.

I know I’m staring at them both, but I don’t know what to say. I’m in love with Baz, I know it now. I think I’ve known it for a while.

“You should tell him.” Niall says gently, reaching over the table and taking one of Baz’s cool hands in his own. They’re warm, but nothing compared to my own hands. (Am I just that much of a furnace?)

“You need to tell him, at least once all of this is over Simon. It’s not fair to you both to live like this… not anymore.”

“I will. I think I have to.”

Dev smiles.

“Good man.”

Baz

Penelope Bunce is a fantastic woman.

I admit, I’ve never spent enough time around her because of the fact that she and Snow have been attached at the hip for longer then but I’ve always known she was an excellent mage.

And today has only proved that to be true.

Admittedly none of the spells she tried worked, but that doesn’t mean I don’t truly respect her worth ethic and creativity.

She’s hard working, she’s dedicated, she spent hours searching through the books from my mother’s library just to help us fix this ridiculous situation.

I can really see why Snow loves her so much. She really loves him too.

I’m happy as I walk back to Mummers, because even though my time in the library was fruitless, I have a new friend. Someone who truly matches my abilities when it comes to spell casting and magic. There’s always been tension between my family and hers, but at least now the tension between us is gone.

Snow is eating a bag of salt and vinegar crisps on my bed as I walk in, looking strangely pensive. My entrance catches his attention though and he looks up, then smiles easily at me. God it makes my heart flutter in my chest to see his genuine, tender affection directed towards me.

I’m tempted to snap at him about not getting crumbs in my bed but I can’t bring myself too.

I don’t mind.

Not really.

I settle myself down on Snow’s bed and wrap the blanket draped across the top of it around myself, not because I’m cold but because it’s comforting to him in a way I can’t explain. It makes me feel settled, content.

I’m about to suggest we do something, go for a walk or play some football or something together. But Snow speaks.

“Baz? What… what’s going on with your leg?”

My heart plummets to the floor immediately and something in my throat sticks uncomfortably, because I have been dreading this conversation since I came back to Watford and it seems that finally I can’t escape it.

“- like it hurts all the time, and you’ve never mentioned it before so I can only assume it happened when you disappeared, so what happened?”

I don’t know how to talk about it. I don’t know how to explain.

I barely told Dev and Niall anything, so how can I tell Snow?

The words lodge in my throat, choking me as I try and find the strength to admit the truth to him.

To his credit, he is a perfect saint. He sits there and gives me time, he doesn’t try and rush me, doesn’t try and force me to speak. He just waits.

“I… I was kidnapped.”

My voice cracks on the word, and I feel my cheeks flush scarlet. It’s ridiculous, the one thing I truly despise about being Snow is how quick his emotions are, how expressive he is. It’s so easy to tell when he’s upset or embarrassed because you can see it, you can see how his face turns red and his brow beads with sweat and it’s awful being the one it happens to. I’m acutely aware of it and it only serves to make my humiliation worse because I can feel the heat in my cheeks and down my neck and in the tips of my ears and everything I do to alleviate it only makes it worse .

He stands then and he takes a seat on the mattress beside me, a hand settling on my knee and it’s so instantly comforting that I manage to get the words out.

“I was kidnapped… by numpties.”

Snow’s face falls, and it’s strange seeing such genuine dismay and upset on my own expression. He looks genuinely hurt that this happened to me and I know our relationship is developing in leaps and bounds (which we definitely need to have a sit down discussion about at some point) but this.. it makes something stir inside of me. Something warm and fluttering and… loved?

“Baz I-l”

I can’t hear it. I can’t hear him say he’s sorry.

“ Don’t .”

He swallows, and for a moment I think I’ve upset him but he nods, his expression changing to one of tenderness.

“Okay.”

We sit there for a moment and the silence isn’t oppressive or tense, and I work up the strength to tell him the rest of the story.

“My aunt Fiona rescued me, and it just… it all got covered up really. My family couldn’t… they didn’t want to disgrace our name anymore than I already have by people finding out that I was stupid enough to get kidnapped by numpties that broke my leg and locked me in a coffin and so- so no one knows.” I say, and it hurts, it aches to admit the truth but Snow is so comforting, so gentle and kind that I’m able to  talk about it. And so I talk about it. I tell him everything. Snow’s body is so emotive, so passionate that when my eyes start to prickle with tears I’m powerless to stop it.

So alone, in the room we’ve shared for so many years, in my own arms (because Snow hugged me as soon as I started opening up), I cry.

I cry a lot.

And it feels good.

It’s a release I didn’t know I needed, to sit and sob and let everything out. Snow’s really good at knowing what I need (although I guess it’s what he knows he needs when he’s upset). He runs his fingers through my hair, gently tugging at coppery strawberry blonde curls, rubs my back just behind my shoulder blades, every touch and comfort so reassuring .

He confides in me how worried he was, how he spent every night staring at my empty bed unable to sleep because he was so used to the sound of my breath to lull him into slumber and it just makes me cry harder. Because he cares.

He’s always cared.

I hate how that knowledge only affirms my fears from when I returned though. Because I couldn’t shake that doubt when I realised Snow hadn’t put on his normal weight. There had been that little voice, one I’d dismissed as delusional because there was no way Snow had been so worried about me he wasn’t eating enough. Snow always ate so much.

But it hadn’t been delusional.

It had been true.

Because Simon Snow cares about me. He’s cared about me for a long time.

Simon

Baz Pitch is not someone I would have ever been able to picture crying. He’s always been stoic, emotionless, strong .

Except he isn’t. He’s a teenage boy just like me.

He cries into my arms, and I hold him.

My conversation with Dev and Niall is running through my head, but I can’t bring myself to confess. Not here. Not like this. Baz deserves better, he deserves romance and something thought out and proper and not me blathering on about my feelings while he’s upset. So I keep my mouth shut.

We’re wrapped around one another, his face tucked into my neck and my arms around his waist, and it’s a closeness of the likes I could have never imagined for us. Merlin he’s so perfect, I don’t understand how I didn’t see it before, I don’t know how we spent so long as enemies when we could have been doing this instead. I’m not really sure what exactly we are, we’re friends now, but are we more? I’d like that, I think. We can talk about it tomorrow though, because… well… we’ve got time now.

The sun sets and we stay tangled in each other’s embrace, exchanging lazy kisses. We don’t really talk much, but there’s not a whole lot to say. He doesn’t want to talk about it and I don’t know what to say.

So we just don’t.

For the very first time, we fall asleep in the same bed, curled up on top of the covers.

It’s perfect.

Chapter Text

Simon 

It doesn’t make sense. 

Like it actually, genuinely, does not make sense. 

I’m not the kind of person who understands a lot of stuff immediately, I know that, I know that my brain works differently to most other people’s and I know that there’s just no world within which I’m the smartest or the most intellectual or whatever, but this? 

This is not me being thick (for once).

It just doesn’t make sense. 

Baz and I awoke entangled together this morning, his (my) warm limbs intertwined with my (Baz’s) slender icy ones, and I think I can pretty confidently say it was the best morning of my entire life. 

After everything we talked about yesterday, after all the emotions and fears and insecurities that came to light, it just felt right for us to be close like this, to wake up pressed against one another like we were made for it. 

It’s hard to understand how we spent so long hating each other (or at least, pretending to hate each other) because loving him feels so much right. It feels natural, easy, like my affection for him is as natural as breathing and I just don’t understand how I ever felt any other way for him. 

From the way he presses his face into my hair and splays a warm hand across the small of my back, I think it’s pretty fair to say he feels the same way. 

We couldn’t have stayed there forever though, but our meander down to breakfast was lazy and slow, more time spent exchanging giggly kisses while getting dressed than actually thinking about anything sensible, and it was hard not to hold hands down the stairs of Mummers and along to the dining hall. 

Penny was sitting with Niall and Dev when we entered the hall (my hand woefully cold and empty), which would have been surprising if it wasn’t for… the situation. Even still… It was a little unexpected. 

The boys looked as uncertain as Baz and I felt, but they’re all engaged in conversation nonetheless, Penny doing her normal thing of talking until the cows come home. Whatever she was talking about, she was so passionate that she didn’t even pause to take a breath when Baz and I took our seats, no acknowledgement of us beyond a courteous nod. 

Dev was the one to finally break Penny’s tirade, smiling at us. “No change then?”

(It’s still so weird being at the receiving end of Dev being nice. It’s kind of surreal to know that he’s my friend now, that after all these years of him hating me, we’re friends.)

Baz shook his head, rusty curls flopping about. “No change.” 

“We’re going to carry on going through the books today though, there’s got to be something in there,” I tagged on, glancing between the four. “We’ll fix this.”

Everything had been so normal, which is why I don’t understand how it happened. 

The day passed in a haze of dust and parchment as we spent hours combing through the old Pitch books stolen from the Manor. Baz and I sprawled in one of the library alcoves, legs tangled under the heavy table, half-whispering lines from the oldest books we had found amongst the Pitch collection. Not the flashy ones - those were useless for this sort of thing - but the old ones, the ones that smelled like ash and mildew, where the binding cracked if you opened them too fast. The ones that felt like they’d been kept hidden from the public eye for a reason.

Baz traced his finger along faded margins as he read, his attention fixed on the pages like he might uncover something just by wanting it enough. I watched his lips more than the text in my own book. His lips. My lips. I still wasn’t used to seeing his elegance in my body, the perfection in his poise, his stance, his every little movement. It was still so foreign, and yet so perfect. So obviously him. I wanted my own body back, of course I did, but the closer and closer we came to fixing this, the more I realised that I was going to miss this. 

Just a little. 

Baz was quiet, reading with one elbow on the table, cheek resting against his palm. His curls fell into his eyes, and every now and then I brushed them away without thinking, just to see his face properly. He didn’t say anything when I did it, just leaned into my touch a little more every time.

Nothing we found made any sense at first. Just like it hadn’t before today. There were half-translations and faded ink and spells that clearly needed more than just the words - ones that wanted blood or fire or truths we weren’t ready to say aloud. I could feel Baz getting frustrated, not visibly, but in the way his shoulders hunched tighter with each page and the smell of greenwood smoke had begun to bleed out of his pores. My dyslexia hadn’t been easy on him, suddenly having to adjust from being flawlessly good at everything, to completely, ridiculously incompetent. He’d been so good at not complaining, so careful to be respectful and kind, but he didn’t have to. It was hard enough for me and I’ve lived in that stupid body my entire life. 

I didn’t say anything though, just reached over and slid my hand onto his knee. Quiet understanding. Just anchoring. Just us.

But then…

Then we found it.

It wasn’t labelled anything even remotely helpful, not that I’d been expecting a book titled ‘How to undo bodyswap spells, a guide for idiots’, but… Y’know. The spell itself was just a phrase scrawled across a margin in untidy handwriting: “To restore what is known but lost.”

There was more to it, though, than just that. The spell itself so different from the kind of magic we use nowadays, more similar to the sort we were taught about in history classes, longer than it should have been and convoluted like a riddle. 

But we knew.

We looked at each other. 

Didn’t say it. 

Didn’t have to.

We knew.

I read it first, and the rhythm of it just felt right in my mouth. Like it fit .

Baz read it with me the second time, our voices finding each other, the cadence oddly familiar, like an echo of something we hadn’t said in years. It didn’t require a wand or a spark. Just words, spoken together.

The library didn’t react. No tremor. No shimmer. No smoke.

But something shifted.

There was no haze this time, no explosive blast of magical shockwaves and earthy green smoke and my own normal magic.

Just a shift. A shimmer.

Baz blinked, slow. Then again, like he was waking from underwater sleep.

"Simon," he said - like he meant it. Like he knew it.

And I knew him.

It was him again. Fully, truly.

And I was me.

I reached out, cautious, fingers brushing the back of his hand. He turned his palm up to meet mine.

The next second, we were kissing. Not desperate. Not fast. Just close. Familiar. Like we had all the time in the world again.

Which I guess, there and then, we did.

When we pulled apart, he leaned his forehead to mine and whispered, “God, I missed you.”

I could feel it in my chest, something bright and beautiful, like something cracking open that had sat heavy for so long I’d forgotten it existed.

“I was right here,” I whispered, but it came out quiet, like I didn’t believe it.

“I wasn’t,” he replied. 

And I didn’t have anything to say to that, really.

Because it was true.

In some weird, fucked up way.

I don’t remember what I said next. I think I kissed him. Or maybe he kissed me. It didn’t matter. The spell held.

I don’t know how to explain it. The spell shouldn’t have worked, but it did. 

It did.

And I absolutely do not understand how. 

It doesn’t make sense, and I don’t care. 

Baz

We shove all the books into the bag we’d brought them in, no regard for maintaining the order we’d brought them in. With my own magic back, I can just restore everything to it’s rightful place once I take them home -

I have my magic back. 

I don’t need to bring the books back home. 

I light the match in my heart, and blow;

“A place for everything, and everything in its place!”

The books disappear, and my own magic crackles pleasantly under my skin, just how it always did. 

I’m me again. I’m me.

I can’t help the giddy, childish laugh that bubbles up in the back of my throat at it all, and before I know, Simon’s laughing too. 

I kiss him, because I can’t help it, and he grins wide against my mouth. Kissing him is everything I’d imagined it being, it’s perfect being on the other side of his lips .  

We’re still laughing as we leave the library, giddy and breathless like we’ve been spun around too fast and can’t quite find the ground yet. Simon keeps bumping into me on purpose, nudging his shoulder into mine every few steps. I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop smiling. It’s ridiculous. We’re ridiculous.

He grabs my hand halfway down the corridor, like he doesn’t even think about it. Like it’s just natural.

It feels natural.

I don’t let go.

The halls are quiet, everyone off in town for the weekend or tucked away somewhere. It makes the school feel like ours , where we can indulge in a secret we don’t have to share with anyone else just yet.

Simon doesn’t say much, but he keeps looking over at me with that dazed, slightly stunned expression, like he can’t believe I’m real again. I feel the same way about him. He never stopped being there , but now he’s here , properly, and somehow I hadn’t noticed the difference. Or at least, I didn’t understand the difference.

By the time we reach our room, my magic is still humming, but calmer now. Settled. I open the door with a flick of my fingers just because I can, and Simon makes a soft sound of appreciation behind me, almost like a purr. It’s a ridiculous thing, because opening the door doesn’t take any energy anyway, so I glance back at him, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugs, grinning. “It’s just... good to see your magic again.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t need to.

The door clicks shut behind us.

We stand there for a moment, surrounded by the familiar warmth of our bedroom. 

His hand is still in mine.

“I didn’t think I’d get you back,” he says, voice low, hesitant.

“You didn’t lose me,” I reply, stepping closer.

His breath catches a little, but he doesn’t back away.

“No,” he says. “But I missed you anyway.”

I reach up, fingers curling behind his neck, thumb brushing his jaw. His skin is warm, and he leans into it like he’s been waiting for this exact contact. Like it’s the final part of whatever spell we cast.

He kisses me again, slow this time, steady. Not searching for something. Just being here. With me.

When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his, and close my eyes.

He doesn’t pull away.

We curl up in bed, flopping onto pillows and blankets and covers - once our own, now shared, as of this past week. 

I lie on my side facing him, watching as he settles. There’s still a faint flush on his cheeks from the laughter earlier. His curls are a complete mess. I want to bury my hands in them and never stop. 

Our limbs tangle as if by instinct. My nose brushes the edge of his collarbone, and he exhales, slow and shaky.

“We really did it,” he murmurs.

I nod against his skin. “We did.”

He shifts slightly, resting his forehead against mine again. His hand finds my side and stays there, fingers spread like he’s grounding himself. Like he still needs the reassurance that I’m solid. That I’m staying.

I slip my hand under the hem of his shirt, just resting it there, palm cool against the ever-warm small of his back. He hums, almost like a cat. Closes his eyes.

For a while, neither of us say anything. There’s nothing that needs saying. His breathing starts to slow, and I feel tension finally bleed out of him, like sand slipping through a sieve. I don’t miss that weight on his shoulders, the weight of being the chosen one and the saviour and everything that’s been put on him for so many years.

“Baz,” Simon breaks the silence after a while, voice quiet and a little hoarse.

“Mhm?”

He runs his hand down my back like it’s a thing he’d missed, warm fingers dipping into every divot of my spine. Like it’s sacred. 

Like he knows it. 

After a week in my body, I guess he sort of does. In some weird, intimate way. 

“Thank you,” He whispers, voice soft against my ear.

I don’t ask for what. I just hold him tighter.

Simon falls asleep not long after that. I’ve always admired the ease with which he sleeps, how his body just switches off, so used to running on the wildfire of his magic that the second he has a moment to himself, his body decides to prioritise rest. 

It was exhausting, honestly, being in his body, and not something I’ll miss. But it’s nice that I understand him now, that I understand exactly why he ticks the way he does. His body’s wired so differently from mine and I love him so much for it. 

I know he’s asleep because his breath changes. Slows. Deepens. His grip on me goes slack, but only just - his fingers still rest at my waist, like even unconscious he needs the contact. It’s warm. Heavy. Familiar.

He sleeps like it’s safe to.

Like he trusts I’ll still be here when he wakes.

The room is darker now, lit only by the orange warmth of the setting sun curling around the edges of the curtains, and I don’t move. 

I don’t want to. I just watch him. Watch how sleep makes him younger, how the worry lines smooth out from his brow and the tightness disappears from his shoulders. He looks peaceful. It’s rare, the sight of Simon Snow genuinely calm, not frantically rushing around trying his damn hardest to save the world, one sheet of homework after the other. 

I want to burn the sight into my memory. Our first time together as us.

My body feels like mine again. Completely. Fully. I hadn’t realised how thin I’d been stretched until now - like a violin string tuned too tightly, waiting to snap. There’s something almost… spiritual about it. Being in your own skin again. Being whole.

And Simon - he’s whole too. That tension in his shoulders has gone, and he’s not gripping his own edges so tightly anymore, not afraid of splintering apart. He’s just here, pressed into my chest, face half-buried in the crook of my neck. And I don’t know what it is about him, but I think I could hold him like this forever and not get tired.

My magic is quiet now. Not crackling, not humming, just… present. Steady. It’s like it’s settled into the rhythm of his breath. It’s mine again, and it feels like home.

I kiss the crown of his head. Soft. Careful. And he doesn’t stir.

This is it, I think. This is the bit they don’t tell you about. Not in the stories, not in the prophecies. The part after the impossible battles, after the stakes and the spells and the sharp edges of it all. The part where you survive. The part where you get to hold someone and just be.

I’ll never pretend to truly understand what Simon’s been through as the Mage’s heir. I only saw the smallest shred of it, and even that was too much. I admire him so much, his strength, his power, the fact he does so much and still exists, still shows up every day. 

I think about the boy I used to be. The one who hated him. Or told himself he did. The one who kept Simon as far away as he could. That boy wouldn’t even recognise me now - lying here in Simon Snow’s arms like it’s the only place I’ve ever belonged.

But I’m not that boy anymore.

And Simon’s not the messiah right now, not the centre of a war, not someone the world’s demanding salvation from.

He’s just mine.

Baz

When we finally make it down to dinner, the sun’s long gone. The hall is more shadows than light, torches guttering low and enchanted chandeliers flickering with the last of their charm. It’s late - so late that only a few people are left finishing their meals, hunched over dessert plates or sipping tea from chipped mugs. The hush is thick. Sacred, almost.

Simon walks beside me, just slightly too close, like he keeps forgetting we’re not still tangled up in bed. His hand doesn’t touch mine, not quite, but our fingers brush every few steps, like gravity keeps pulling us back together.

We don’t say anything. We don’t need to.

The door to the dining hall creaks a little when we push it open, and the few heads still present turn to glance our way. Penny’s the first to notice. She freezes, halfway to her mouth with a forkful of pie. Her eyes go wide behind her glasses - and then her whole expression shifts, relief pouring over her.

Niall nudges Dev. Dev’s head jerks up and he stares, brows drawing together, then rising slowly as understanding dawns.

They know.

Not just that it worked - but that we’re back .

It must be something in our posture. The way Simon’s standing again, the way I walk. It must be in the way we move, the way we glance at each other - and more importantly, the way we don’t have to anymore. The energy between us has changed. Calmed. Solidified.

We’re not trying to keep the edges from slipping anymore.

We’re just... here.

“Bloody finally ,” Penny breathes, setting her fork down with a clatter. “You fixed it?”

Simon grins - that easy, boyish grin that always feels like summer storms and trouble. “We did.”

He sounds proud. Not arrogant, not smug. Just content. Full of the kind of warmth that’s been missing for days.

Dev leans forward on his elbows. “You’re sure?”

I nod once. “We’re sure.”

He looks at me for a long second - me, properly me - then shrugs. “Good. You were weird as hell in each other’s bodies.”

Simon snorts. “You think that was weird? Try looking in the mirror and seeing Baz's eyebrows .”

“Oi,” I say, jabbing him gently in the ribs with an elbow. “These are aristocratic.”

“Aristocratic my arse,” he mutters, but he’s smiling. Glowing, really.

Penny’s still watching us like she might cry or punch us, it’s unclear. She stands, suddenly, then walks the length of the table and pulls Simon into a hard hug. He lets out a small oof but doesn’t resist - just folds into her, forehead resting on her shoulder like they’ve done this a thousand times.

“Don’t do that again,” she mutters. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Wasn’t on purpose,” Simon mumbles.

“Still.”

I don’t say anything, but Penny meets my eyes over his shoulder. Her mouth softens. “You too, Baz.”

I nod. It’s the closest we’ve come to her thanking me, and it’s enough. Our friendship may have evolved drastically over the past week, but we’re still a long way off of undoing the past few years of hatred.

When they part, Penny ruffles Simon’s curls like a child, and he rolls his eyes but lets her. I swear, he’d let her set his entire head on fire and thank her for the favour.

We slide into our usual seats, and someone brings us late trays from the kitchen - half-warm roast potatoes and some sort of pie that neither of us even looks at before digging in. The table feels more like home than it has in weeks.

The quiet between us now is a good kind. Not heavy. Not tense. Just full of things we’ve already said, already shown.

Simon’s foot brushes mine under the table. Once. Twice.

Simon

I only manage to get through half of my dinner before the questions start.

“Well?” Penny demands, “You can’t just say you fixed it and then move on. That’s not how this works.”

“Agreed,” Dev says, folding his arms on the table. “What did you do? Who did you sacrifice? What like - obscure magic artefact did you dig out?”

I blink at him. “Uh. None of that?”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “No blood sacrifice? Not even a mild hex?”

Baz hums into his potatoes. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Penny is practically vibrating beside them, eyes fixed on me like I’m some kind of unpredictable science experiment. “Okay, then tell us exactly what happened. What was the spell? Where did you find it?”

I glance at Baz, who doesn’t look up from his food but gives a small, knowing smirk. Which is unhelpful. Charming , but unhelpful.

I sigh, setting my fork down. “It was one of the old Pitch books. One of the ones from the manor.”

Penny waves a hand. “What exactly was the spell?”

“It was written in the margins,” I say. “No title. No explanation. Just this line: To restore what is known but lost. ”

“That’s not a spell,” Dev says with a frown.

“It was,” Baz says. “Or... it became one.”

“It felt like one,” I add, a little helplessly. “Like-it wasn’t just the words. It was something about the way we said them. Like it only worked because we said them together .”

Niall frowns. “So no wand movement? No incantation structure? Just... vibes?”

Baz gives him a look. “Ancient magic doesn’t follow the same structure we’re taught now.”

“Still sounds like vibes,” Niall mutters.

“It’s older than modern casting,” Penny says, a little too quickly, already sliding into academic mode. “Some of the earliest recorded spells were completely verbal. Magic was more - intuitive. Tied to intention and connection rather than clean Latin and wandwork. If you two were both keyed into the same magical goal... it could’ve worked. If the magic was strong enough.” She pauses, frowns at me. “And your bond is obviously... absurdly strong.”

Baz snorts softly beside me.

Penny leans forward, elbows on the table. “Okay, but like. How did you know it would work?”

I shrug. “We didn’t.”

“Then why do it?”

I glance at Baz. He’s watching me now, expression unreadable, but not unkind. A little uncertain.

“I just... knew, we knew,” I say finally. “I read the words and it felt like-like something shifted. In my chest. Like I’d already said it before. Like we both had.”

“It wasn’t just magic,” Baz says, voice quieter now. “It was something else.”

Dev raises an eyebrow with a snort. “What, love?”

Baz doesn’t answer.

I do.

“Yeah. Maybe,” I say. “That.”

The silence that follows is weirdly not awkward. Penny nods, slow and thoughtful, like she’s storing the words away in one of her endless memory vaults. Dev and Niall exchange a glance but don’t comment. Maybe they understand more than they let on.

Actually, given the fact we now all know they’ve been secretly dating for like forever, they probably do.

Or maybe they’re just glad we’re back to normal. Or at least our version of normal, anyway.

“So,” Penny says after a beat, sitting back in her chair, “you’re both back in the right bodies, you haven’t cursed yourselves accidentally, and everything feels... stable?”

Baz rolls his eyes. “We’re not about to melt or explode, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good,” she says, satisfied. “Because I am not cleaning up the aftermath if you get spontaneously transmogrified.”

Niall snorts into his pie. “Transmogrified. That’s not even a real spell.”

“Not yet,” she mutters. “Give it time.”

There’s a short pause, and then Dev looks between us again. “So. What now?”

Baz and I both glance at each other, there’s so many answers, and yet also nothing. We haven’t exactly talked about this, not really, but I don’t doubt that we’re on the same page about it all. 

“Just carry on, I guess.”