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[ACxHP] lp4: predicament and prediction
Rating: T
Pairing: Altair/Malik
AU: Like Pillars Four!verse; I am never going to be done with this AU. /o\
Altair had a knack for Divination, which wouldn’t have been so surprising if Malik could admit that Altair usually had a knack for anything he thought was worth his time. Back in their third year Malik remembered Professor Trelawney trilling about Altair’s natural talent, and no one had been less shocked – or more deadpan – about the announcement than Altair himself. Other than that, the rest of the class was a blur in Malik’s memory. His third year at Hogwarts hadn’t exactly been his most favorite, for reasons he was still trying to put past him.
Since then, the Houses had went on their annual shuffle and, now as seventh years, the Ravenclaws were once again paired up with the Gryffindors for Divination. Malik found that his opinion on the subject was largely the same as it had been three years ago – that Divination mostly ran on luck and guesswork, and was, on whole, absolute tripe.
Unfortunately that didn’t excuse Malik from studying what it meant when his tea tasted faintly like jelly and the leaves at the bottom of the cup were in the shape of an artichoke. Still grimacing from the less-than-pleasant aftertaste, he put the cup down and consulted his textbook. Really, he ought to have memorized his own fortunes by now – usually broadcasted as grim or dull or, if Malik was feeling especially creative in front of the professor, full of agonizing death.
“The artichoke symbolizes upcoming disappointment,” he read and leaned his cheek against the palm of his hand. His posture had grown steadily worse as the afternoon wore on; any further and he would be slumping over the short coffee table. “Well, I can’t say it was wrong.”
Altair was already bent over with his head in his arms, idly turning pages of his book. Like Malik, he wasn’t easily taken into things that didn’t require hours of studying or practice and tangible work to excel in. He seemed to brush off his gift, or whatever Trelawney had called it. But as of this moment, Altair was more annoyed at Malik for manifesting the Room of Requirement as some kind of replica of the Divination classroom. Apparently having his mouth mashed all over Malik’s face at the doorway wasn’t enough to distract the Ravenclaw from the upcoming exam.
With an undisguised yawn, Altair slowly sat up on his cushion, his book open to the chapter on palmistry. He pushed the kettle out of the way. “I’ve had enough tea. Give your hand.”
Malik raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be more subtle than that,” he said.
A few seconds of confused silence confirmed that Altair had not understood right away, but once he did he smiled wryly and held out his hand, slightly embarrassed but unrepentant. “I’m going to read it,” he clarified unnecessarily, but it got Malik to hold out his right hand, palm up, and Altair dutifully recalled the textbook passages of Malik’s heart and life lines, and planetary mounts.
There wasn’t anything that Malik hadn’t read on his own a dozen times over. Even so, he checked the book with his free hand, letting Altair at least pretend to puzzle over some of the more obscure creases.
“Short life, horrible death, poor health, scandals and awful relationships,” Altair said, running a thumb over each line.
“Romantic relationships,” Malik corrected, still looking at the book. He felt Altair’s finger still over his palm, and he glanced up to find the Gryffindor smirking at him. Malik groaned. “You are awful.”
“I was wondering if you’d correct me,” Altair snickered.
Malik rolled his eyes, curling his fingers from what distressingly felt like bashfulness. “You read it wrong, so I had to correct you, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Altair mocked, and straightened them back by bending Malik’s wrist until the boy relented with a scowl.
“Well? Anything different?” Malik asked. He looked at his palm and then at Altair, frowning. It was hard to entirely discredit Professor Trelawney when, on rare occasions, he had seen for himself that Altair had his own special way of seeing, though it wasn’t based on anything they learned in class. “What do you think?”
Altair must have heard the implication. He stared at Malik’s hand for a moment with a little absent smile that meant he wasn’t going to answer Malik seriously.
“Palm reading is all rubbish, you know this,” he said, though he kept hold on Malik’s hand. His eyes were oddly bright as he nodded over to the messy pile of cushions thrown into the corner. “But in a bit I can see the both of us not studying and heading over there.”
Snorting, Malik pulled his hand back, unsurprised as Altair leaned into it. They hadn’t been sitting all that far apart to begin with, and Altair threading their fingers together had always done stupid things to Malik’s mind. “And that’s your prediction?”
Altair abruptly left his seat to swing a leg around Malik’s waist and – oh, Malik thought blankly, that was something new – and settled over Malik’s lap, not quite sitting because even Altair appeared a little unsure of the exact motions.
“Yes!” he said, all the same, impatient and aggravated enough to forego a wittier answer. His other hand came up to rest on Malik’s shoulder, steadying himself. The collar of Altair’s shirt was crooked, one corner upturned from when Altair had loosened it after his last class, hours ago.
And there shouldn’t have been anything noteworthy about it, but this was a very different sort of context – which could explain why Malik took a sudden interest with the knotted scarlet and gold tie hanging in front of him. He saw Altair swallow and his throat became the most fascinating thing for all of two seconds until Altair made a noise that sounded a lot like “um” and shuffled away.
“All right, that’s enough of that for now,” Altair muttered, matching Malik’s flustered expression. He sat back and seemed relieved when Malik drew forward to kiss him, eyes closing and hands no longer in awkward positions, because mindless snogging was something they were very good and familiar with.
But, since Altair went through all that effort anyway, Malik was willing to let him predict the future just this once.
“Fine, fine,” he conceded eventually, and dragged Altair away from their Divination books.
Pairing: Altair/Malik
AU: Like Pillars Four!verse; I am never going to be done with this AU. /o\
Altair had a knack for Divination, which wouldn’t have been so surprising if Malik could admit that Altair usually had a knack for anything he thought was worth his time. Back in their third year Malik remembered Professor Trelawney trilling about Altair’s natural talent, and no one had been less shocked – or more deadpan – about the announcement than Altair himself. Other than that, the rest of the class was a blur in Malik’s memory. His third year at Hogwarts hadn’t exactly been his most favorite, for reasons he was still trying to put past him.
Since then, the Houses had went on their annual shuffle and, now as seventh years, the Ravenclaws were once again paired up with the Gryffindors for Divination. Malik found that his opinion on the subject was largely the same as it had been three years ago – that Divination mostly ran on luck and guesswork, and was, on whole, absolute tripe.
Unfortunately that didn’t excuse Malik from studying what it meant when his tea tasted faintly like jelly and the leaves at the bottom of the cup were in the shape of an artichoke. Still grimacing from the less-than-pleasant aftertaste, he put the cup down and consulted his textbook. Really, he ought to have memorized his own fortunes by now – usually broadcasted as grim or dull or, if Malik was feeling especially creative in front of the professor, full of agonizing death.
“The artichoke symbolizes upcoming disappointment,” he read and leaned his cheek against the palm of his hand. His posture had grown steadily worse as the afternoon wore on; any further and he would be slumping over the short coffee table. “Well, I can’t say it was wrong.”
Altair was already bent over with his head in his arms, idly turning pages of his book. Like Malik, he wasn’t easily taken into things that didn’t require hours of studying or practice and tangible work to excel in. He seemed to brush off his gift, or whatever Trelawney had called it. But as of this moment, Altair was more annoyed at Malik for manifesting the Room of Requirement as some kind of replica of the Divination classroom. Apparently having his mouth mashed all over Malik’s face at the doorway wasn’t enough to distract the Ravenclaw from the upcoming exam.
With an undisguised yawn, Altair slowly sat up on his cushion, his book open to the chapter on palmistry. He pushed the kettle out of the way. “I’ve had enough tea. Give your hand.”
Malik raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be more subtle than that,” he said.
A few seconds of confused silence confirmed that Altair had not understood right away, but once he did he smiled wryly and held out his hand, slightly embarrassed but unrepentant. “I’m going to read it,” he clarified unnecessarily, but it got Malik to hold out his right hand, palm up, and Altair dutifully recalled the textbook passages of Malik’s heart and life lines, and planetary mounts.
There wasn’t anything that Malik hadn’t read on his own a dozen times over. Even so, he checked the book with his free hand, letting Altair at least pretend to puzzle over some of the more obscure creases.
“Short life, horrible death, poor health, scandals and awful relationships,” Altair said, running a thumb over each line.
“Romantic relationships,” Malik corrected, still looking at the book. He felt Altair’s finger still over his palm, and he glanced up to find the Gryffindor smirking at him. Malik groaned. “You are awful.”
“I was wondering if you’d correct me,” Altair snickered.
Malik rolled his eyes, curling his fingers from what distressingly felt like bashfulness. “You read it wrong, so I had to correct you, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Altair mocked, and straightened them back by bending Malik’s wrist until the boy relented with a scowl.
“Well? Anything different?” Malik asked. He looked at his palm and then at Altair, frowning. It was hard to entirely discredit Professor Trelawney when, on rare occasions, he had seen for himself that Altair had his own special way of seeing, though it wasn’t based on anything they learned in class. “What do you think?”
Altair must have heard the implication. He stared at Malik’s hand for a moment with a little absent smile that meant he wasn’t going to answer Malik seriously.
“Palm reading is all rubbish, you know this,” he said, though he kept hold on Malik’s hand. His eyes were oddly bright as he nodded over to the messy pile of cushions thrown into the corner. “But in a bit I can see the both of us not studying and heading over there.”
Snorting, Malik pulled his hand back, unsurprised as Altair leaned into it. They hadn’t been sitting all that far apart to begin with, and Altair threading their fingers together had always done stupid things to Malik’s mind. “And that’s your prediction?”
Altair abruptly left his seat to swing a leg around Malik’s waist and – oh, Malik thought blankly, that was something new – and settled over Malik’s lap, not quite sitting because even Altair appeared a little unsure of the exact motions.
“Yes!” he said, all the same, impatient and aggravated enough to forego a wittier answer. His other hand came up to rest on Malik’s shoulder, steadying himself. The collar of Altair’s shirt was crooked, one corner upturned from when Altair had loosened it after his last class, hours ago.
And there shouldn’t have been anything noteworthy about it, but this was a very different sort of context – which could explain why Malik took a sudden interest with the knotted scarlet and gold tie hanging in front of him. He saw Altair swallow and his throat became the most fascinating thing for all of two seconds until Altair made a noise that sounded a lot like “um” and shuffled away.
“All right, that’s enough of that for now,” Altair muttered, matching Malik’s flustered expression. He sat back and seemed relieved when Malik drew forward to kiss him, eyes closing and hands no longer in awkward positions, because mindless snogging was something they were very good and familiar with.
But, since Altair went through all that effort anyway, Malik was willing to let him predict the future just this once.
“Fine, fine,” he conceded eventually, and dragged Altair away from their Divination books.