Chapter Text
“You’ll pay for that boy
This will teach you to respect your betters
Know your place,
“Excuse me?”
You’re a disappointment,
A mistake, a mistake, a mistake
“Hello?”
“You’ll pay for that-
Crowley shot up with a gasp, throwing himself away from the blurred shape in front of him as he attempted to breathe. Crowley shuddered softly as he slowly came round. He was on the Hogwarts express. No overbearing family, nothing to hurt him, just his first year at Hogwarts and the stranger in his compartment who had stumbled in on him mid-nightmare. He was off to a good start. Fantastic.
“Hello” the boy said politely, cherubic face sporting a bright smile. He must be a first year too Crowley supposed, he had blonde, almost white, fluffy hair and merry bright clear blue eyes and a kind and welcoming smile.
“I’m Aziraphale Fell, and you are?” the boy- Aziraphale questioned. Had to be a pureblood with a name like that, Crowley couldn’t wait to offend his high society sensibilities. He heaved himself up into what would be considered a normal sitting position and attempted to smile back.
“I’m Crowley, Anthony Crowley, call me by my first name and I’ll make you regret it” Crowley mildly threatened, subconsciously acknowledging that threatening people wasn’t the first step of friendship.
“Of course my dear” Aziraphale said and Crowley mentally balked at how unflappably cheerful the blonde was
“I know a thing or two about unfortunate names” he commented scrunching up his nose. Crowley latched on to the conversation starter to avoid mooning over how adorable Aziraphale was
“Thought your name was a bit ironic, Angel Fell” Crowley mused, sinking back into his seat comfortably lounging. A torn look of delight and deep rooted irritation crossed over the blondes face as he responded.
“I have to wonder what my parents were thinking choosing such a biblical name paired with our family one. Not many wizards recognise the religious influence luckily” he finished and Crowley shrugged in response. He found muggle religion quite fascinating, not that he could ever broadcast such a thing. When he was younger he used to sneak out to the muggle town near his house, looking around the libraries and music stores. It had been fun until his father found out. Crowley quirked a grin before responding. “What’s in a name, Angel?”
“My name is Aziraphale not Angel” he halted mid correction before turning his wide baby blue eyes onto Crowley
“wait you know Shakespeare!” The blonde in front of him didn’t even wait for a nod of acknowledgment before throwing himself into a fanatical rant about the playwrights’ favourite works that no normal 11 year old should have been able to enjoy.
The two continued to chatter for the duration of the train swapping stories and telling jokes. When the trolley witch came Aziraphale broke and indulged himself in enough sweets to feed a small army, Crowley allowed himself to eat a few ice mice. It wasn’t until the train finally reached Hogsmeade that Crowley realised he hadn’t put his sunglasses on, and that Aziraphale hadn’t flinched away once at the sight of his glaringly yellow snake eyes. Perhaps this is what it’s like, to have a real true friend.
Crowley stood between his fellow class mates, ignoring the questioning stares because of his glasses awaiting to be sorted. They had congregated at the front of the great hall and every few seconds Crowley would send an appreciative glance at the charmed night sky, constellations shining brightly as Aziraphale nervously shuffled beside him. Aziraphale had confessed on the train ride that he had no idea what house he may end up in. He was unwaveringly loyal but didn’t believe he was brave, he loved to gain knowledge but didn’t believe he was innovative. He had shyly confessed that even though Slytherin didn’t seem too bad, the want to chase your own goals, he feared his parents would be very disappointed as they were both very proud Gryffindor’s. Crowley had laughed at that and confessed a very similar problem, he would never get his inheritance if he was sorted into Hufflepuff after all.
“Crowley, Anthony” he grimaced at his first name, his father’s name, as he moved up to the hat. Crowley flopped onto the stool as the strict professor placed the sorting hat onto his head, the brim obscuring his view.
Hmm let’s have a look then shall we
Crowley tensed even though he had expected it before relaxing, letting the hat shuffle around his mind
No, no, not Gryffindor, you tend to think before you act, not very daring- you wouldn’t like them.
Crowley heaved a sigh of relief, he knew he could be loyal or brave, he just preferred not too
Ravenclaw is definitely out, not a studious one are you? Too bookish there…what’s this? You do show a sense of justness here young Crowley, an aptitude towards kindness- maybe hufflepuff is the place for you
Crowley shifted uncomfortably, his sorting was one of the longest yet and he could hear people begin to murmur
But there is a thirst to prove yourself, prove you are more than your family, you want to change things more than you admit. Quite a sneaky one aren’t you actually? Very observant when it comes to saving your own skin
the hat continued shuffling through his memories 'I don’t think I’m very ambitious' Crowley thought 'I just want to live my life as I want too'
And that is the reason you may be one of the most ambitious student I’ve ever sorted. Yes I know where to put you now, you belong in
“SLYTHERIN” the hat exclaimed and Crowley wandered over to the green and silver table, sitting down near the front of the bench closest to the professors as he watched the rest of the sorting, Aziraphale standing alone until his name was called. Aziraphales’ sorting was almost as long as Crowley’s, the blonde pulling some very funny faces as he seemed to argue with the hat before finally
“HUFFLEPUFF” Aziraphale beamed before primly rising, heading towards the hufflepuff table, he looked towards Crowley across the room looking hesitant before giving him an unsure wave. Crowley smirked in response, mockingly waving back, wiggling his fingers, before the rest of the Sorting proceeded.
~
Aziraphale was, bemusedly, quite happy with how things had turned out. He had made his first friend on the train ride and the hat had decided that although he was ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted and his never ending pursuit for knowledge, his kindness and loyalty had landed him in Hufflepuff rather than Slytherin or Ravenclaw. He had even heard from his upper class-men, to his relief, that the Hogwarts library had an admirable selection of muggle books such as an Oscar Wilde collection he had regretfully left at home. Everyone always told him he was an ‘old soul’; privately Aziraphale just believed he was constantly surrounded by imbeciles. However he had arrived at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast in a rather sporting mood. This was of course naturally ruined when the mail arrived from his parents
Aziraphale,
Your cousin Gabriel has informed us that you’ve been placed in Hufflepuff, really, of all the houses, although your mother agrees it fits your foolish nature. No one really expected you too maintain our Gryffindor legacy after all, at least it’s not Slytherin, no, you know better than that. We also received other disturbing news from Gabriel that you were being friendly with that Crowley boy, obviously since he’s been placed in Slytherin we expect you’ve already cut ties, you know what that sort are like Aziraphale. Don’t fraternize any longer. Even though you’re in Hufflepuff you need to maintain the Fell legacy, don’t disgrace our name by returning to your bumbling ways after we worked so hard, don’t be soft. Just be like Gabriel and you’ll be fine.
Best wishes,
Father
Aziraphale sucked in a deep breath after he finished reading the letter, eyes stinging. Of course, not even Hogwarts could free him from the over bearing restrictions of his family. He had to please them. With a heavy heart Aziraphale pretended not to notice Crowley trying to get his attention across the hall and made his way to his first lesson blinking back tears. He couldn’t be soft.
September disappeared quickly with October hot on its heels and before Aziraphale had even noticed the leaves outside were brown, orange and crinkled on the ground. He had astronomy every Wednesday at midnight which almost had him falling asleep over his cauldron in double potions on the following Thursday. Aziraphale had been brought up in a house full of magic but he never knew what it was truly like until he had his own wand, casting spells and making potions. Hogwarts was everything he had ever dreamed about it and the old castle certainly lived up to his childhood fantasies. That wasn’t to say of course that Aziraphale was particularly good at magic. It had only been the first two months and realistically he knew he could get better but currently he found himself staring despondently at the feather on his desk. After another failed wingardium leviosa Aziraphale glared angrily at the feather before jabbing it with his wand. Aziraphale had the feeling if the feather could glare back it would. Needless to say charms was not his best subject.
Charms was not the only problem in his life though, there was another problem. An eleven year old sized shape by the name of Crowley. Ignoring Crowley was a lot harder than the hufflepuff had thought it was going to be. Not only did they share almost every class with the slyhtherin Crowley had a way of popping up when you least expected him. When Aziraphale was coming out of the library, he was there. When Aziraphale was leaving the kitchens that some older hufflepuff has shown him, he was there. The more Aziraphale tried to avoid him the more he appeared. Aziraphale had only managed to get through November before he was ungraciously pulled into a broom closet on his way back to the commons. Giving a terrified squeak he only calmed down after he realised it was Crowley who had a grip on his wrists. And then he began to panic all over again. “So Angel” the red head drawled lazily as Aziraphale tried to hide his embarrassment over the now what seemed to be permanent nickname.
“Care to tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?” Aziraphale tried to splutter out some excuses but Crowley was an oddly perceptive eleven year old, or maybe Aziraphale was just a dreadful liar. Crowley gave him a flat level glare and Aziraphale gave up on his excuses sighing pitifully.
“You just don’t know the trouble I’d get into if my family knew I’d been fraternising?” Aziraphale huffed
“I can’t be friends with you” Aziraphale looked away guiltily when Crowley blanched
“Fraternising?”
“Whatever you wish to call it” Aziraphale spoke quickly trying to escape Crowley’s grip
“I don’t think there is any point discussing it further” Crowley let go of his hands trying to cover up his hurt expression.
“I have lots of other people to fraternise with, Angel” he spat venomously, brows furrowed. Aziraphale placed a hand on the broom cupboard handle slowly opening it to make sure no one was in the corridor.
“Of course you do” Aziraphale said moving out
“I don’t need you” Crowley’s voice echoed down the corridor and Aziraphale was tempted to turn around, run back to his very first friend and forget any argument had ever happened but Aziraphale couldn’t afford to let his family find another reason to hate him. Instead he let venomous words fall from his lips.
“The feeling is mutual. Obviously” Aziraphale was half way down the corridor when he heard Crowley’s mocking repetition and couldn’t help but smile even though he knew he had lost his first real friend.
~
The weeks past slowly after that only serving to prove that Aziraphale didn’t actually have anyone else to fraternise with. There was Agnes Nutter, a sixth year Gryffindor that Aziraphale had met in the library, though he tended to stay away from her and her oddly knowing gaze. She had a younger cousin Anathema Device who Aziraphale shared a few classes with although she wasn’t a very thrilling conversation partner as most topics seemed to always lead back to Newton Pulsifer who ‘couldn’t brew a potion for the life of him’. None of his acquaintances filled him with quite the same ease that Crowley had. One small solace was that Aziraphale was enjoying his house, everyone was very kind unlike his pressuring relatives and once when there was a thunderstorm the elder students returned with hot cocoa and marshmallows’ for all the people who were scared. Aziraphale helped his fellow students when he could as he seemed to pick up the theory very quickly, he was possibly the only person ever who made comprehensive notes in history of magic. All Helga Hufflepuff had asked from her students was kindness and that was something Aziraphale tried to give too anybody whilst also pleasing his parents.
He hadn’t been very kind to Crowley that day. Aziraphale had seen the slytherin sulking around the halls. Crowley evidently had no one to fraternise with either but with Christmas fast approaching, Aziraphale found that not even his studies and Oscar Wilde could take his mind off the maddening guilt. He had signed up to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, lying to his parents about using the professors’ resources over break. It was only when the hufflepuff commons emptied, the usual cosy circular basement abandoned, did the loneliness set in. No angry cousin Gabriel to avoid and nobody to spend time with. A couple days into winter break an unfamiliar owl landed on the hufflepuff table, looking quite pleased with itself as it stole a waffle from Aziraphale as he read the letter, more of a note really, in short jagged handwriting
Meet me at half ten on the seventh floor in front of the tapestry of that wizard teaching Trolls ballet, call it an early Christmas gift
PS- if you don’t know where that is, we’ve been here a full term come on Angel
PPS- ask a ghost if you don’t, they’re friendly enough, mustn’t be a lot of conversation when you’re dead
PPPS- Don’t worry about curfew, it’s the holidays
PPPPS- still try not to get caught
Going by the nickname the note must be from Crowley, Aziraphale could only say it was a mixture of loneliness, curiosity, and early teenage rebellion at the ripe old age of eleven that led him to stand in front of the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy at half ten that night. Aziraphale stared bemusedly at the painting until he heard the soft tap of feet coming down the corridor. Crowley smiled when he saw Aziraphale waiting for him and quickly met him in front of the tapestry. Aziraphale shuffled nervously turning to face the red head
“Crowley if we get caught-
“Relax Angel” Crowley cut him off “just two minutes of your time, that’s all I’m asking for. Then you can leave”
Aziraphale begrudgingly nodded and watched in bewildered amusement as Crowley span on his feet and began to pace, muttering to himself all the while, Aziraphale was just about to question Crowley on his apparent lack of sanity when a door suddenly appeared to grow from the wall they had previously been staring at. Crowley smiled smugly, as smug as one could look in a set of bright green flannel pyjamas, looking at Aziraphale, looking for all the world like the snake who got the canary before dropping into a half bow
“After you Angel” Aziraphale shot him look of mild disapproval but he figured the overall effect was ruined when he couldn’t stop the small smile appearing on his face. Giving in to the Slytherins’ request Aziraphale opened the mysterious door before stepping in.
The room was instantly bathed in a warm golden light, in the centre, a large sofa covered in an obnoxious amount of pillows and blankets, a leather arm chair sitting next to it in front of a giant fluffy shag rug. The surrounding walls were covered wall to wall in bookshelves, books bound in vellum, old tomes and modern practices. In between the novels various potted plants were littered across the shelves, deep vibrant green leaves and bright patterned pots adding colour in the midst of the old volumes. Aziraphale let out a shocked happy laugh as he slowly span around the room.
“Crowley what is this?”
“the elves in the kitchen call it the come and go room, it gives you almost anything you want and I supposed that if- if all that was stopping you experiencing my delightful company was if you were seen with me, having a secret room for ourselves fixes that really” Crowley muttered, trying and failing to quell the blush rising to his cheeks. Aziraphale let out a happy sigh before ungraciously throwing himself upon the sofa.
“That does fix that”
In the faux sun, they begin to giggle together; what a beautiful beginning.
They start meeting in the room three times a week – Crowleys’ dorm mates begin to get suspicious but none of them question him since they found itching powder in all of their clothes. Sneaking out after curfew is not always a simple task but the two first years had yet to have been caught. Crowley would complain about the lax security if he didn’t enjoy the lack of adult supervision so much. Any semblance of a healthy sleeping schedule went out the window. In the beginning Aziraphale had complained but by the time mid-January rolled around and the frost had melted from the Hogwarts grounds he was more concerned with throwing his charms essays at Crowley and bullying the red head into editing them. Between exchanging stories and bemoaning homework Crowley had quickly learnt that Aziraphales family life was just as dysfunctional as his own and that if ‘Cousin Gabriel’ was anywhere in the vicinity Crowley was to pretend Aziraphale didn’t even exist. The Fell family were dicks. But Aziraphale still loved them, still went out of his way to please them and if Crowley’s’ own father had never placed the final nail in the family coffin Crowley was sure he would have ended up just like Aziraphale. Idealistic and desperate for familial affection. So Crowley steered clear of the topic of family and instead offered a shoulder to cry on whenever Aziraphale got a strongly worded letter from home.
“So you’re telling me you can just, speak to snakes” Aziraphale questioned from the other side of the sofa one night with a book in his lap that Crowley is pretty sure is older than his grandparents. It was a Friday night and the two were making use of the lie in Saturday promised them tomorrow by meeting up tonight. The fire in the room was warmer tonight, the roaring flames trying to combat the February chill that Hogwarts let in.
Crowley hissed back a yes, smug.
Undeterred by Crowley’s usual antics the blonde pressed on
“but I thought that parseltongue was an inherited ability- from Slytherin himself” Crowley shifted uncomfortably before nodding his head in an acknowledgment.
“Badly done human transfiguration can have some unseen side effects. Along with snake eyes I also have some…snakey tendencies” Crowley didn’t need to look up to feel Aziraphales dead pan stare.
“Snakey-
“I’m cold, a lot, colours can be muted and I have an unprecedented obsession with chocolate mice and” Crowley paused turning himself around so he was facing Aziraphale “I can do really weird things with my tongue” he finished with a wink, guffawing when Aziraphale spluttered face bright red. The two calmed down and the room returned to its’ quiet atmosphere.
“Who did this to you Crowley?” he asked softly, blue eyes turned on him. Crowley was quiet for a long time, gripping the pillow closer to him letting out a mournful sigh. His words so quiet that Aziraphale almost missed them.
“One of the worst monsters I have ever encountered” Crowley uttered softly steadfastly refusing to think of the man who had done this to him. Aziraphale was by Crowley’s side faster than he thought should be possible, gathering his friend- and God had Crowley always been so small- in his arms, hugging him tightly. And if Crowley’s eyes had burned and if he had clung to him tighter they didn’t mention it. And if they met up more frequently after that night, if the room no longer provided a second seat they didn’t mention that either. Some moments never truly need an explanation through words.
The rest of their first year passed by in the blink of an eye. The end of year exams were a joke and Aziraphale was confident he had passed with near on full marks for every subject, even history of magic. Crowley truly was brilliant with charms and transfiguration, easily imaging what he wanted and was a willing tutor when Aziraphale came begging for help. Even the looming despair Aziraphale felt when he thought of returning home for the summer didn’t seem that bad when he now had his first real friend to run back too. They had promised to write and try and meet in the summer holidays, too escape from their respective horrible families. The Hogwarts Express carried them further and further away from Hogwarts – from the home Aziraphale had made for himself and closer to his families clutches. But for some reason, he wasn’t scared. He had a new found hope that everything would be fine.
~
Second year, much like his first, offered Aziraphale a welcomed reprieve from his family. He loved his family and he knew deep down his family loved him – maybe not Gabriel – and he knew they only do the things they do because they think they know best. Aziraphale knows that they don’t know best but he is twelve and dependant and as such can’t argue back. But he can escape.
Hogwarts is that escape.
More specifically, Crowley is that escape.
Because Crowley doesn’t care about his fascination with muggle literature or Holy Scripture or his obsession with French pastries. Aziraphale could live a life of decadence or that of a pilgrim and he knew as long as he offered his company Crowley would be more than content to stay by his side. It was hard to imagine he had only met Crowley a year ago, he felt like he had known Crowley his entire life. Looking at it objectively Aziraphale understood why it must feel like that. He was only 12 after all. His only real first memory was from when he was four and then it was eight long years of his parents’ tyranny and long suffering looks of disappointment. The first year with Crowley contained some of the happiest moments of his life so far, it was easy to understand how attached he had become to the gangly red head with his caustic wit and soft smiles.
This didn’t mean however that there were lines he wouldn’t cross.
“No Crowley I will not do your homework for you, you should have done it long before the first day of school for merlins’ sake” Aziraphale spoke with all the righteousness of someone who had actually done his transfiguration essay only the night before but would not admit it even on his death bed. The two had only just been able to see each other, throwing themselves onto the plush sofa the room had conjured for them. Aziraphale couldn't risk meeting with Crowley on the train as Gabriel was prowling the aisle with his shiny new prefect badge just dying to get Aziraphale in trouble. Then after the welcoming feast it would have been suspicious for both of them to slip away on the first night back so they both had to struggle through a days’ worth of ‘welcome back to school’ lectures before they could finally meet.
Crowley looked over imploringly at him, shaking the bag of French pastries he had brought for the specific reason of bribery. When Aziraphale shook his head primly Crowley took out an éclair from the bag and indignantly bit into it, almost choking on the pastry when Aziraphale suddenly lunged for the bag.
Crowley really should have expected it.
~
The calm and comfort that Hogwarts offered Aziraphale lasted up until Halloween which was honestly to be expected. Crowley had a conspiracy theory (one of many) that alongside the DADA position, Halloween at Hogwarts was also cursed as every year something bad happens. Aziraphales’ life fell into a very consistent pattern whilst at Hogwarts, he attended his classes, spent his free hours in the library, had crepes for breakfast on Fridays and spent most of his time with Crowley. September has passed by quickly and the days in October had disappeared before Aziraphale could even blink. Everything was going great, that was until his actual home intruded onto the one he had built around him. He sat in the room of requirement, bundled in blankets, fighting back tears. He was a disappointment, he wasn’t good enough, he had to try harder, he had to listen to Gabriel, and he had to be better-
“Angel?”
Aziraphale couldn’t even bear too look up at Crowley as his eyes burned and his throat tightened and that heavy feeling constricted his lungs as Crowley took a seat next to him and pulled him closer. Crowley who had it so much worse than he did, who deserved a much better friend than Aziraphale who was stuffy and boring and soft.
Fat ugly tears streamed down Aziraphales face as he flung himself at Crowley, clinging to the comfort his friend was offering as he sobbed into his shoulder listening to his empty words of comfort. He wished his family could love him for who he was.
~
Crowley awoke early on November 1st feeling vindictive and tired which was different than the usual feelings of being tired and depressed. He had dropped Aziraphale off in front of the hufflepuff common room after he had stopped crying already plotting a way to make Gabriel’s life a living hell. The grade A douchebag had cornered Aziraphale yesterday, as if just his presence wasn’t upsetting enough never mind him actually talking. Talking was one word for it. Crowley angrily buttoned up his shirt thinking about what the dick had said to Aziraphale yesterday before realising he had missed a button in his righteous fury and had to start again. Grabbing his glasses he strode out of the slytherin common rooms, a smirk on his lips. Slytherin had gotten their ruthless reputation from somewhere and Crowley decided that today he would exercise that famed cunning. Hogwarts was still a boarding school no matter how prestigeous it was and there was nothing more soul destroying for pubescent teens than a few horrifc rumours.
By the end of the day now he just had to make sure that Gabriel also heard the news. Crowley left dinner early, hiding in a broom closet near the Gryffindor commons and waited until Gabriel was walking past. It didn’t take long until Crowley heard the gits booming laughter from down the hall. Putting on a fake falsetto Crowley began to speak.
“Did you hear about Gabriel?” he spoke loudly, ending with a giggle and almost cheered when he heard the oaf stop near the door. Crowley quickly changed his accent. He was probably having way too much fun with the voices.
“I heard Gabriel’s got an eight pack. That he’s shredded”
Time for the finishing blow
“Well Actually I heard-
Gabriel was far too preoccupied to bother Aziraphale for the next month. He had a suspicion that Aziraphale knew what he had done but the hufflepuff never asked him about it. Being friends with Crowley had made him a very firm believer in plausible deniability.
~
Although the nights came quickly the November days seemed to drag on and on. Every Wednesday night left them freezing at the top of the astronomy tower and although charms was Crowley’s best subject that didn’t mean he was a model student. Case in point; the time that instead of setting a piece of paper on fire with the incendio charm he had accidentally set his whole desk ablaze. It was a small consolation that Flitwick had appeared more amused than disappointed. November had eventually stopped sullenly dragging its’ feet and soon enough December had arrived. Holiday spirit slowly infiltrating the dull monotony of homework and classes. The Friday night before term was set to end found Crowley and Aziraphale back in the Room of Requirement in front of the warm fire. Crowley was flipping through yet another clothing catalogue as Christmas was fast approaching and he had yet to give up on his crusade of getting Aziraphale some casual clothing. He had been despairing over Aziraphales’ wardrobe for what seemed to be forever and was determined to fix it. Apparently only old stuffy purebloods wore suits on weekends, Crowley purposely ignoring the glaringly obvious fact that they were both in fact from old stuffy pureblood families.
“Why do you insist on spending so much money on things Crowley – I can buy my own clothes you know”
Crowley aligned him with a stare that conveyed how deeply he mistrusted Aziraphales fashion sense and went back to flipping through the glossy pages of the catalogue.
“Well really its’ my father’s money that I’m spending, anything to mildly inconvenience the old bastard”
Aziraphale had long since given up on chastising Crowley on his language.
“Crowley, if I may ask” Aziraphale hesitantly began, meeting Crowley’s amber eyes “what happened to your mother?”
Crowley was always an active person, never still, never quiet. Aziraphale found it hard to look at the still creature that had replaced his friend. When Crowley spoke again there was a heaviness to his voice and a weariness in his eyes that was never even present when Crowley spoke about his father.
“Some things aren’t worth knowing Angel”
Aziraphale paused, before reaching over and elbowing Crowley
“Well if you wanted to waste your father’s money you could spread more festive cheer. To the professors perhaps?”
The grin that spread across Crowley’s face was terrifying but not even his pity for the professors’ could outweigh how glad he was to take away that unnatural misery that had clung to his best friend only moments ago.
~
The New Year swung around quickly and with it a new bought of luck. Pomona, bless her soul, decided that the surly slytherins needed some ‘positive influence in their lives’ and what better way to get kids happy than to force them to interact on a near daily basis on a mandatory paired project with people that they hate. Aziraphale was positive that he and Crowley were the only two who would profit from professor Sprouts decision. Having a herbology project was an adequate excuse as to why he could acknowledge his secret best friends’ existence in public. Actually, Aziraphale considered looking at the knowing gleam in the professors’ eye, their friendship may not be as secret as hoped. With an empty pot, no directions and a pair of dragon hide gloves between them they were told to ‘grow me something that could be used in a medical emergency’ for the rest of the year as it would count towards their final grade.
Aziraphale wasn’t very good with plants.
Crowley was a plant protecting fiend.
For someone who was usually very laid back (didn’t care at all) for most subjects it was an odd sights for Aziraphale to see Crowley so invested in his work, barking orders at Aziraphale and dashing from place to place in pursuit of ‘showing them how its’ really done’
“I don’t like you” Aziraphale muttered when Crowley made him shove his freshly manicured hands into the giant bag of compost. Crowley barley paused in his search for earmuffs, chucking back a very bright pink fluffy pair at Aziraphales head before responding.
“You do” he drawled.
He knew Crowley liked plants of course. They practically had a botanical garden in the room of requirement but even the mini forest Crowley was growing plant by plant paled in comparison to the fanatical devotion he showed to their herbology project.
“Grow better!” Crowley roared, shouting at the plant as he angrily cast an agumenti. Aziraphale looked on forlornly as the other students left for lunch but he didn’t dare leave until Crowley said they were done. He couldn’t wait for this project to end. The Outstanding grade they achieved when they handed in a mandrake for there project was completley worth it.
~
If anyone had thought that the winter festivities would have thawed out Snape’s icy demeanour they were wrong. If anyone thought that Valentine’s Day could have cheered the sullen surly professor they were doubly wrong. In fact by the end of February Professor Snape was quite possibly crueller than ever. But Snape wasn’t the reason Aziraphale was so angry in potions today. Snape didn’t necessarily have a seating plan but the two houses split themselves up anyway, hufflepuffs’ on one side of the potions classroom and the Slytherins’ on the other. Aziraphale was carefully stirring his potion, three stirs clockwise, one stir anti clockwise, repeat until the potion is an iridescent blue. Right now it was more of a muddy puddle but Aziraphale wouldn’t give up on it yet. Although no one really dared to speak when Snape was sweeping around the room eagerly awaiting to criticise someone until they burst into tears it didn’t mean that there wasn’t any whispering. Aziraphale was adjusting the heat of the flame in hopes of helping his potion when he heard Beelzebub whispering, just across from his desk. Beelzebub was one of the intimidating slytherins in there year, even at twelve they had taken to being a ruthless bully with their ever looming shadows of Hastur and Ligur to back them up. They were delightful. Truly. Slytherin usually displayed a unified front in the face of the other Hogwarts houses because as much as Dumbledore liked to preach about interhouse unity the only thing the four houses could agree on was a mutual loathing of Filch. Beelzebub didn’t give a damn about interhouse unity, they obviously didn’t even care about the members in Slytherin either what with the vile thing they were currently whispering to Crowley.
“Oh look is little Crowley upset? Going to run home and cry to mummy?” they taunted and Aziraphale felt the rage spread through him the longer he heard what they were saying.
“Oh wait, my mistake. You don’t have one” they finished simpering, turning back to their own almost perfect potion evidently satisfied. Aziraphale pretended to fuss over his cauldron for another minute before innocuously making his way to the storage cupboard grabbing a few ingredients that might help his potion. Some peppermint and lavender bundled in his arms he made his way back to his desk. Snape had yet to say anything about his attempts at fixing his potion which he interpreted as silent approval. He worked on his potion for another minute keeping a close eye on Beelzebub and then, when both Beelzebub and Snape were distracted he acted. Carefully he aimed for Beelzebub’s cauldron and threw in a handful of beetle eyes.
Faster than Aziraphale would have thought the potion began emitting a gaseous smog as the contents steamed and turned to a grey sludge, a rancid odour enveloping the classroom. Beelzebub let out a panicked screech as they backed away from their furiously hissing cauldron until Snape hurried over and banished the contents of the ruined potion. He levelled Beelzebub with a withering stare before sweeping away ordering everyone to turn in their potions. Aziraphale smugly bottled up his now perfect potion and pretended not to notice Crowley’s inquisitive stare.
It was a dreadful thing, what happened to Beelzebub’s potion.
Aziraphale was positive he had absolutley nothing to do with it.
~
They found themselves once more in the room of requirement, Crowley was sprawled on the sofa as if he had forgotten he had a spine and Aziraphale was pondering over what subjects he should take next year. The end of year exams began in a week but Aziraphale had discarded his history of magic revision notes in favour of picking new subjects. Crowley was adamant in taking muggle studies, if only to further infuriate his pureblood father. He had yet to choose another subject and was currently debating between ancient runes and care of magical creatures. Aziraphale had suggested that Crowley take arithmancy alongside him but Crowley had looked at him with a face of complete betrayal.
“Its’ maths, Angel” he said horrified as if basic algebra was one of the world’s greatest evils. It was a valid reaction honestly but Aziraphale enjoyed hard work and apparently endless suffering.
Aziraphale wished he could take muggle studies but for all his parents righteous Gryffindor posturing they still came from a traditional pureblood family and expected more of their ‘dithering hufflepuff son’ and as such that left him with ancient runes and arithmacy. He couldn’t bring himself to take divination as it was a by and large useless subject to take. Crowley evidently disagreed judging by the great lengths he was going too to persuade him that it was a worthwhile subject.
“Just think Angel, you’re caught in a pinch, need to make a big decision, you can solve it in a tickety boo with a swig of some tea leaves. Divine your future” he ended dramatically pretended to look into a crystal ball.
Aziraphale staunchly ignored Crowley’s mockery and petulantly crossed his arms.
“I don’t need divination to figure out your future”
Crowley’s head popped up curiously from the cushions, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes I’m afraid a terrible tragedy will befall you” Aziraphale spoke seriously.
The face Crowley made when the cushion hit his face was priceless.
~
It was odd how quickly the year at Hogwarts passed, with the end of year exams behind them and the Hogwarts express in front of them a bitter taste was left in Aziraphales mouth. Hogwarts was the only place he felt at home and even then he had to be careful, no one could know he was friends with Crowley, he’d be disowned before he could step foot through the door of his house. Normal people didn’t have to have secret friendships. Normal people weren’t burdened with the weight of an unwanted family legacy. Normal kids could send letters to their friends over summer. Aziraphale and Crowley couldn’t do that. It wasn’t fair but they couldn’t do anything about it. Aziraphale shared a look with his best friend as they left the station. Another long summer awaited them both.
September couldn’t get here soon enough.