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May of Seventh Year, Watford School of Magicks
BAZ
Agatha Wellbelove follows me into the Woods. I can smell her from meters off-flowery perfume and minty shampoo.
She steps into the clearing where I’ve stopped. She snaps a small twig underfoot, but I don’t turn. I don’t need to.
“I’m not your bad-boy-storybook-price, Wellbelove. You can’t save me from myself, and you certainly can’t leave your golden destiny with the Chosen One, the Mage’s Heir, for little old me,” I sneer, and behind me she shifts and steps forward.
When she speaks, it’s more confident and clear than I’ve ever heard her. “I know. I just. I want to make my own decisions for once. Everybody’s making them for me, and I just want to not have to do what’s expected. What they want me to.”
Well. She’s more eloquent than Snow, at least. And I can’t fault her for her reasoning-I don’t like having my decisions made for me either, most of the time. There’s a pause, a silence between us as she steps carefully forward. I turn to face her.
“What do you want, Wellbelove? And why did you follow me here?”
She shrugs, and honey-blond hair falls into her fair. She flicks it away and meets my eyes. (Her’s are so unlike Snow’s. Warm brown so dark I can’t make out her pupils in place of ordinary, unextraordinary blue.)
“Like calls to like, I guess. I want us to be friends, Baz. Simon and Penny can’t understand what it’s like, being us.” She’s determined, but too soft around the edges. I sneer.
“Alike how, Wellbelove?” I ask, and I don’t soften my voice. She’s got more steel in her than I thought-doesn’t react at all to my sudden harshness.
“Agatha.” She says. “Call me Agatha.” I nod tightly. If she’s brave enough to stand there and tell me how we’re similar, I can do her the courtesy of calling her by her first name.
“We both grew up rich. Likely both with distant parents, too. We both have a place in Simon’s story. We both have our destinies already set out.” She pauses. “And we’re both queer.”
I freeze. I haven’t told anybody that I’m gay yet, not even Daphne or Dev and Niall. How does she know? What gave it away?
I don’t react for too long and she smiles. “I knew it. I guessed, but. You aren’t subtle, Baz. Not to me.”
I sigh and slump. I don’t want to keep up this facade anymore. I’m tired. “You won’t tell anyone?” I ask, and I hate how uncertain my voice comes out. She frowns.
“Of course not, Baz. I won’t out you before you’re ready,” she says, and she sounds genuine.
She walks the last few steps towards me and stops, holding out her hands. I regard her for a second, then take them. Then I remember what she said, and- “You’re queer?” I ask quietly. She nods.
“Well. Trans, actually. Attraction isn’t my division,” she says and we laugh. “But seriously. I haven’t figured out my sexuality out yet, but I like Simon, and that’s enough for me right now.”
“Yeah. Wait. Trans?” I say, and frown. (I sound like Snow, but I’m surprised. It can be excused, just this once.) “Should I use different pronouns for you?”
“No,” she says, and she sounds relieved. “I already transitioned-I pass pretty well, don’t you think?” She winks. “Magic is good for that. Agatha is who I really am. Simon and Penny know too, and my parents, obviously, but no one else.”
“No one will hear it from me,” I tell her and pull one hand away to jokingly cross my finger over my slow-beating heart.
She beams, and I smile back, and a twig snaps. We both whip around to face Snow, who is standing at the edge of a clearing. He looks like a dream, if dreams watched nightmares.
I drop Agatha’s hands and step back. Snow’s eyes follow me.
Well. Best get this done with, then.
I hope I can trust Agatha.
(I think I can, anyway.)