Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
“Motherfucker,” Jim rasps, spitting out tiny droplets of blood.
His entire body feels like it's made of heavy, oxidized lead. His left arm hurts like a son-of-a-bitch and his right leg is so numb it's basically as good as gone.
All Jim wants to do is close his eyes and sleep forever. He picks himself up off the floor, limps his way towards the nearest wall and collapses against it instead.
As he walks, he tries to make his lungs cough up all the dust and smoke he'd inhaled during the fight. If the black ball of mucus he spits out is of any indication, he still has a lot to go through to not feel like he's death warmed over.
A ray of sunlight coming from one of the windows hits a piece of rubble at his feet and something there catches his eye.
"Huh," he says after he's leaned down with much effort to pick up something golden and ostentatiously shiny from between the broken cobblestone.
"All of that and the asshole didn't even take the damn thing," Jim says with a sigh. He puts the crown in one of the many bigger-on-the-inside, hidden pockets of his jacket and mentally curses whomever created the blasted thing in the first place.
"Crown of True Kings, my ass. More like Crown of True Troubles. Or Crown of True Assholes," he complains, allowing himself a moment to feel solemnly angry and annoyed at everything and everyone before he focuses back on reality.
With a deep, slow breath, Jim pushes himself away from the wall and makes his way back where he came from. He walks slowly and with his eyes downcast, his body too bruised and broken to allow him to move with more energy. His wand is pressed tightly against the palm of his hand the entire time.
"Khan apparated away, the bloody coward," he says after he reaches the front steps of the hallway, eyes still set on the floor. He's about to throw a couple more perjuries at his new least favourite person in the world when he notices Spock's form still on the floor. He's exactly where Jim left him, minutes ago. Almost as if he hasn't moved a muscle. As if he can't move a muscle.
"Hey, Spock..." Jim calls, frozen on spot as his mind short-circuits for the briefest moment. "Fuck, Spock!"
Jim’s running towards Spock’s motionless form before he’s even aware of it.
He throws himself on his knees in front of Spock’s legs, grabbing his friend by the lapels of his shirt and shaking him violently.
“Hey, Spock, come on, talk to me. Please. Spock. Come on, just open your eyes...”
Now that he’s close to him, Jim can see how pale Spock is, far more than he looked before when Jim left. His purple veins stand out like ugly marks on his skin, giving off the effect there there isn’t a single drop of blood left in his body. There’s no blood on the floor that Jim can see, but that is of little comfort. Whatever spell hit Spock might be eating Spock’s blood cells right now, for all Jim knows.
Jim tries to find Spock’s pulse with his thumb, pressing too roughly against his neck in anguish, unable to find any signs of life.
“Please don’t die. Please, not for me, you asshole. You can’t die for me,” he says, his words only slightly quieter than shouts.
Jim allows himself a single moment to let out a strangled sob before he collects himself, picks up Spock as best as he can and starts walking where they came from. His whole body protests the heavy effort, and he only gets to take three steps before he begins to feel lightheaded.
His vision starts blurring in front of him in seconds. He can feel his head swimming from side to side, trying to push him down, but he ignores every sign in his body telling him to stop, now, and he keeps walking.
Even when an intense bolt of pain shoots through his bruised arm and he almost drops Spock, Jim keeps walking. After his leg starts to cramp and all his muscles tense simultaneously, Jim keeps walking. Even when the pain is so much he can no longer see, hear or breathe, Jim keeps walking.
He has to get Spock help. He can’t let his ridiculous, bowl-cut aficionado, daft work partner and close friend die, not after said friend risked his life on an idiotic act of heroism for Jim. Not after everything that's happened.
Fuck no. Jim doesn’t believe in no-win scenarios, and he’s not going to let Spock die, even if that means charming his beaten and bloody dead corpse to keep walking after Jim’s given up.
CHAPTER 1
Jim’s favourite subject is Astronomy.
No one else seems to get it, especially the Gryffindor crowd from his house, who tend to find any subject that doesn’t involve fighting and/or explosions boring. Not that Jim doesn’t like fighting and explosions. He does. He just happens to find space one of the coolest things ever too.
There’s something about the unknown that calls to him, makes him wish he could cast a spell on his broom to make it go faster than ever so he could go off to explore new worlds. Of course, Jim knows that he would have to do far more than put a simple speed charm on his broom to reach space and, you know, not die the second his body leaves the atmosphere. Professor Ricino, Hogwart’s Astronomy professor, is a big fan of going above and beyond to educate his students on the wonderful, deadly thing that is space. Jim partly blames his fascination on him, but it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t felt a love for the stars since he was quite young.
It was because of Ricino, however, that Jim started paying attention to the Muggle world’s accomplishments in space. Jim still remembers when he found out that Muggles had gone to the moon in the '60s. He was dumbfounded for a whole week and made sure to tell everyone about it until Bones threatened to shove a spatula down his throat if he didn’t shut the hell up.
After that, Jim’s fascination just sort of grew and grew, not out of control, but definitely without much choice on Jim’s behalf. It was because of it that Jim chose to continue studying Astronomy after fifth year even though he’d already decided he wanted to become an Auror. He’d considered becoming an astronomer for a while, but quickly dropped the idea after an enlightening conversation with Bones, who, frankly, knows Jim better than Jim knows himself. How he does that Jim has no idea, but he does, and Jim doesn’t really care enough to think about it too much.
It was through Bones’ words that Jim realized what he truly wanted was to feel the excitement of flying to new worlds and be right in the heart of it. Unfortunately, there would be none of that in naming new constellations and figuring out their correlations to magic, which was pretty much what all magic astronomers did.
The only other Gryffindor student who chose to continue studying Astronomy after fifth year was Nyota Uhura, who Jim didn’t exactly, in the strictest sense of the words, get along with. Something about purple pus, green hair and a week in the hospital wing during second year that had clearly become a bigger affair than Jim's little mind predicted at the time. Some people just can’t seem to forgive and forget.
Besides a couple of Hufflepuffs and two Slytherins, everyone else in Astronomy class is a Ravenclaw. Most of them seem to be specialized in the annoying ability of holding onto a grudge until the end of time and thus can be very nice and helpful if you never get in their way, but complete dicks if you do.
Anyone who knows Jim’s past doesn’t have a hard time figuring out how they treat Jim.
Not that Jim cares. He is on the quidditch team. He gets good grades but doesn’t brag about them. He is a well-liked prankster. He gets along well with almost everyone and helps the new kids however he can, fully in the knowledge of how terrifying the first year in Hogwarts can get. Jim doesn’t need the Ravenclaws in his Astronomy class to like him. He absolutely does not.
It would be nice if they at least pretended though. It isn’t like Jim is there for any other purpose than to learn, just like the rest of them. Sure, sometimes he can get a bit too loud and overenthusiastic, but that’s just who he is.
Jim is one hundred percent sure that if everyone just goddamn relaxed for a second, stopped worrying about their upcoming N.E.W.T.s and started actually enjoying space like they should, everything would run much smoother. He’s not their boss though, and he can’t just go around telling people how to live, so instead he sits in the back and tries not to get on anyone’s nerves as he shows up to their first Astronomy class of their final year of school.
“Oh! Mister Kirk! So delighted to see you could join us again this year,” Professor Ricino says with a smile that looks almost real on his face, which makes Jim question whether the comment was meant to be sarcastic or truthful. Probably sarcastic. Jim doubts anyone can be a professor for fifteen years without gaining a strong sense of biting humour.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jim replies because he’s spent more hours in the Astronomy Tower gazing at the stars and writing down things about them than anyone else he knows, and if that doesn’t earn him the right to joke around with his Astronomy professor, nothing does.
Most of the class doesn’t even bother looking at him to greet him except for the Hufflepuffs, whom Jim can’t help but consider his salvation, especially on rainy days when Professor Ricino decides to go over an unproven theory, written bloody centuries ago, on how stars are the souls of the dead and the planets were made by failed spells. Yeah, right.
On those days the ‘Always Merry’ Hufflepuffs - a false title by the way, Jim’s seen plenty of angered and moody Hufflepuffs sulking around after losing a Quidditch game - are Jim’s only source of entertainment. Say what you will about the Puffs, they tell damn good jokes and that’s just something nobody can deny.
Oh and they're hard workers too and don’t mind doing the boring assignments for him as long as he promises to nick a bottle of Mudd’s Firewhiskey for them next time they go to Hogsmeade. Bless their hearts.
“Hey, where’s Helen?” Jim asks quietly as he sits down.
Helen has been Jim’s work partner since fourth year. She’s got a keen eye, a penchant for choosing the right words when Jim’s mind has gone blank and brings Jim homemade sweets every once in a while. She’s also quite pretty, with long brown hair and a smile that can melt stone hearts. Bones says she has a crush on Jim and that’s the only reason why she puts up with Jim’s wild theories and ideas for their assignments, but Jim denies it wholeheartedly. Helen is too good for him.
“Got into an accident this summer. Haven’t got the full details, but I heard it was a messy deal,” says Popplewell, the only student in the school who manages to rock a mohawk and a neatly pressed tie at the same time. Jim’s kind of jealous even if he knows a mohawk would make him look like a squished owl.
Jim makes a small questioning sound, prompting Popplewell to continue talking. He hadn’t heard a word about Helen’s accident and considering Jim’s best friends with the Gossip King - title attributed by Jim, third year, when Bones told him about Alex and Cyril getting together a whole week before anyone else knew - Jim finds the whole thing a bit odd.
Of course, Bones might not know about it yet. It isn’t like Bones goes out of his way to know everyone’s dirty little secrets. Information just sort of floats towards him, like a balloon floats towards the sky. Bones complains all the time about being sick and tired of people telling him about all of their problems, but Jim is sure he secretly enjoys it. And Bones doesn’t tell Jim everything. Hell, he doesn’t tell Jim the half of it, only shares what he knows when it’s either something really good or something important, and even then—
“Werewolves. Attacked her whole family while they were on vacation in France.”
“Oh. Fuck.”
Jim heard similar stories throughout the summer. Werewolves, centaurs and other creatures were driven out of their territories by the Ministry of Magic, who is trying to start a new age for the Magical community. If you asked Jim, it all sounded like bullshit to him, spewed by a government scared of its own people, who wishes to be in full power again even though they can’t tie their own shoelaces without help.
After that, Jim can’t really pay attention to class. Ricino is just giving his usual speech about the wonders of the universe and how everything about magic can be tied to the stars, so he’s not missing out on anything important. Jim’s so lost in thought that Ricino could suddenly announce that the end of world is in five minutes and he would miss it, which is why when Jim’s broken out of his reverie by his professor’s loud shrilly voice, he has no idea what’s going on.
Ricino lets out a sigh, already used to Jim’s habit of not paying attention when the subject doesn’t interest him. Almost everyone has left by now. Only a couple of Ravenclaws remain in the classroom, packing their things while they chat between themselves, meaning that class is over and Jim didn’t even notice. Bugger.
“This year, since it is your last, you’ll be given a project that will extend throughout the three terms, which I spent the last fifteen minutes of class talking about. Since your usual partner, Helen, isn’t here,” Ricino says and Jim thinks he can hear a hint of sadness in his voice, even if well hidden, “you’ll have to do it with someone else.”
“Has everyone else chosen?” Jim asks and Ricino nods, a small smile toying at the corners of his lips. “Then who I am supposed to—”
“Mister Spock is, as usual, available due to his preference to work alone. I’m sure you could convince him to work with you.”
Jim’s mind immediately pictures the tall Ravenclaw student, with his ridiculous bowl-cut haircut and his constantly blank face. He knew who Spock was. Everyone knew who Spock was. He always walked alone, had perfect grades at everything, refused to work in group projects and had the glaring capacity of a supernova. Jim remembers seeing him getting thrown around a couple of times, mostly when he was younger. People began to back off when Spock grew out of his pre-teen lankiness and those who didn’t Spock completely ignored until they did.
Jim’s found his eyes straying to Spock a couple of times, almost like he’s being pulled by a magnet. If it were anyone else, Jim would feel slightly weirded out by his own behavior, but Spock is, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the hottest guys Jim knows. This, not surprisingly, makes everything okay. His stupid haircut and his preference to use the full Hogwarts uniform at all times included in the hotness scale.
It is hard to pinpoint what exactly about Spock makes him so bloody attractive that half the school is lusting after him and the other half hates him for it. Jim thinks it’s a combination of various factors: the mystery, the evading personality, the strong bone structure, the way he carries himself like he’s The Man, how he speaks with absolute confidence and can handle himself in a fight with no problems, the way he looks so out of place and makes you want to get to know him better just so you can fix everything for him.
Jim doesn’t know Spock. No one does, not even his fellow Ravenclaws, but he’s heard and seen enough in his seven years at Hogwarts to kind of make him wish he did.
Nevertheless, he knows that Spock would never work with him willingly, and Jim isn’t in the mood to make an ass of himself begging.
“Spock? But I’ve never even talked to the guy, and he hates working with other people. Can’t I just do it alone, too?”
“No,” Ricino says with a knowing smile before he walks away into his office, leaving Jim fuming in the now empty classroom. If he wasn’t so busy feeling annoyed at himself, he’d be questioning Ricino’s little, cocky smile and wondering what the hell it meant. Alas, the only thing on Jim’s mind right now is getting back to his tower for a good night’s sleep so he can figure out what he’s supposed to do tomorrow.
---------- // ----------
“So, I heard you got partnered up with Spock for your Astronomy thing,” is the first thing Bones says as he drops down next to Jim on the Gryffindor table. He’s already got two heavy books beneath his arms, probably to do with the anatomy of frogs or something since Bones has a weird interest in how bodies work and how we're all so similar, and yet, so different. Bones’ own words.
“How do you already know that? It’s not even nine yet.” Jim tries to glare at his friend, but the lack of coffee and food in his digestive system makes it hard for him to concentrate on such a complicated action. He settles for throwing a piece of toast at Bones instead. “Also, get out of here, Ravenclaw. This isn’t your table.”
Jim’s last comment is completely ignored, which Jim already expected since Bones has been sitting at the Gryffindor table since first year after he and Jim became best friends on the train ride to Hogwarts.
Bones just shrugs like the good healer-to-be he is, always refusing to break patient/doctor confidentiality. “Things get around. Now stop trying to skirt around the topic and tell me what’s up.”
“Nothing’s up. I wasn’t paying attention in Astronomy and before I knew it, the only two people left without partners were me and Spock.”
“What about Helen? You always stick with her for those things. Girl does all the boring work while you spin the words around to make them look more interesting. You make a good team.”
“She didn’t come this year,” Jim says and then, as means of explanation, he quietly adds, “werewolves.”
“Damn,” Bones spits out. The conversation stills after that. Jim is thankful for this since he doesn’t have the stomach to face the unavoidable anger that would strike him if he started talking about werewolves and the ministry and how their stupid, power-hungry measures are messing everything up.
However, the silence doesn’t last long, since Bones acts like a dog with a bone when he wants to know something.
“But what about Spock? The guy hates working with other people. I can’t imagine him being very happy with your little predicament.”
This time it's Jim’s turn to shrug. “Nothing I could do about it. Ricino said I couldn’t work alone and Spock was the only person left. I think Ricino might be up to something though. He looked far too happy when he told me I had to work with Spock.”
Before Bones can come up with a witty reply, Uhura passes by them, beating Bones to it. “Letting your ego control your tongue again, Kirk? You should do something about that.”
“If you want to give it a look I’m all yours, love,” Jim says as he smiles, slow and predatorily, making Uhura roll her eyes before she sits with her friends.
When Jim turns back to Bones, his friend gives him a look that can only be described as ‘are you really that dumb or did your mum drop you on your head as a child?’. Jim resents it, but only a little bit.
“It was the best I could come up with under the pressure and timeframe,” Jim says as an excuse, taking a last bite out of his toast and emptying his goblet previously full of pumpkin juice.
“Smooth, Jim, so smooth.”
“Like you could do better.” In response to Jim’s comment Bones lets out a small, wolfish grin that Jim’s come to associate with Bones having a secret that he’s dying to let out but can’t for some reason. Before Jim can start grilling Bones, Sulu throws himself haphazardly onto the seat next to Jim with his usual extreme morning cheeriness that leaves everyone around with an ever-growing desire to hex him.
“Good morning, Captain,” Jim says, his own cheeriness completely faked. It’s easier to pretend you have the same level of enthusiasm as Sulu around him than have him try to cheer you up. Jim’s learned that from experience.
“Jim. Leonard,” Sulu says with a smile and a nod to both of them as he starts heaping food onto his plate. “Jim, you haven’t forgotten we have practice later today and then tomorrow again, right?”
“Don’t worry, Captain.” This time the emphasis on the title is entirely meant as a sarcastic jab, but he doesn’t think Sulu notices. “I haven’t forgotten how we have to beat Slytherin’s asses to the ground this year, and how we have to finish with the best possible score so that no one ever forgets about us and we go down in Hogwarts history as the best Quidditch team ever to play in these fields. I was there the whole train ride listening to you talk, remember?”
“I’m just saying, we have to--”
“So, I heard they’re starting to set up shop for the tournament,” Bones says, interrupting the Quidditch banter, which Bones has little to no interest in. Jim knows from watching Bones cheer on the stands that his friend does like Quidditch, he just doesn’t like hearing Jim and Sulu talk about it.
“What? Already? The other schools haven’t even gotten here yet.”
“Near the east side of the forest. Nobody’s sure what it is. They’ve got a bunch of protective spells around the whole area, but Chapel told me you can see the very edge of the setup from the bell tower.”
“Really?” Sulu asks at the same time as Jim starts pushing his plate away so he can get up.
Everyone - from the small first years who just got to Hogwarts, to their professors who’ve been there almost their whole lives - is ridiculously, stupidly, incredibly excited for the Triwizard Tournament, which has come to Hogwarts for the first time in sixteen years, at the perfect time for Jim, now a seventh year, to participate.
So Jim’s excited. Everyone is. It’s kind of hard not to be. The energy surrounding the whole thing is contagious. One second you’re sitting in Boggins’ class, ready to fall asleep; the next you’re thinking about the tasks they have set up this year and who is going to put their name in the Goblet and what the wizards from the other schools look like. From the stories Jim heard about the last tournament at Beauxbatons four years ago, everyone is good-looking, charming and wants to get your pants off. Exciting business.
The added bonus of eternal fame for the winner and getting to be the only thing anyone talks about until the next tournament is also quite nice.
Not that Jim is sure he’s going to win. Hell, he isn’t even sure he’s going to get picked to represent Hogwarts, but it doesn’t hurt to picture himself holding the cup, surrounded by his friends and professors, all celebrating his victory.
“Are you coming or what?” Jim asks when he and Sulu are up and ready to go and Bones looks like’s not going anywhere, still eating his cereal and looking quite at peace with the world.
“We have class in five minutes, Jim,” Bones says with such an air of superiority and ageless wisdom that Jim can’t help rolling his eyes at him.
“So? We can totally make it in time! C’mon Bones, I know you wanna see it too,” Jim practically whines, giving Bones a little nudge for good measure.
Jim knows his friend. He knows that Chapel told him about the whole thing fifteen minutes ago or Bones would have told Jim about it sooner, since he’s Bones and he’d never keep anything about the tournament away from Jim.
Sure enough, Bones gives Jim a very indulging, ‘I’m only doing this because you asked nicely’ look while he gets up, which is complete bullshit because he knows for a fact that Bones is as excited as he is about the tournament. Bones even has a goddamn book on it. Everything & Anything You Need To Know About The Greatest Magical Test In The World - The Wondrous Triwizard Tournament. Yeah, Jim’s seen it.
“Don’t give me that face. You want to see what they’re doing too.”
“I told you, you can only see the far edge of the setup, that is if they haven’t heard about their break in security and haven’t fixed their spells yet.”
Jim shushes him as Sulu says, “Don’t be such a pessimist, Leonard.”
Jim thinks it’s weird that everyone treats Bones as Leonard, which, alright, is a bit ridiculous since Leonard is Bones’ real name but it’s not his name. His name is Bones, has been for seven years ever since Bones told Jim about his hobby as a kid of dissecting animals and keeping their skeletons. Creepy, but it was all in the name of medicine according to Bones. Anyway, Jim likes to research Muggle-made metal machines that fly into space without any use of magic at all, so who’s he to question weird hobbies.
Also, it’s nice to know that Jim’s the only one who calls Bones by that name. Not that Jim would ever admit that out loud without a good dose of firewhiskey coursing through his arteries. Bones would never let him live it down.
They go to the tower in a hurry, running and laughing and generally acting like a bunch of ten-year olds just because they can and it feels nice to do so once in awhile. The effort turns out to be pointless in the end though, since all they get to see are trees and trees and more trees, although Sulu swears on his grandmother’s grave that he saw a dragon’s wing behind some of the oaks.
They end up being late for class. Boggins yells at them about irresponsibility and that seventh year is the most important. Jim doesn’t really care since in about a month the other schools will get here and the tournament will start. With any luck, he’ll get picked and dammit, he’s excited.
---------- // ----------
Quidditch practice is hell.
Jim gets hit with a bludger not once, not twice, but three freaking times. The urge to steal one of the beater's sticks and beat their heads with it becomes almost undeniable by the time practice ends. Sulu does a shit job at getting everyone to work together as a team, which only serves to increase Jim's frustration. Not that Jim blames him for this since they're three players short of their usual roster after the old ones graduated.
The new kids are good, but they're way too green and aren’t used to playing a real game on a real team, having only joined earlier that week. Yesterday's practice was helpful in getting everyone used to each other, with Sulu giving them mostly simple flying exercises and a chance to talk while they practiced.
It obviously wasn’t enough though, Jim's bruises a proof of this as the two new Beaters failed to work together throughout their exercises and didn't stop most Bludgers from hurtling at Jim with the force of a steam train.
Nevertheless, Jim still tries to be a good teammate by congratulating everyone on a good job with a fake smile on his face as every muscle in his body begs him to shut up and lie down for the next fifteen hours. Sulu shoots him an appreciative, tired smile, and this time when Jim smiles again it's real. He likes Sulu. Even though he hasn't gotten the hang of keeping everyone in check yet, rookies and veterans alike, he knows the sport well enough that most of commanding comes naturally to him. Sulu can tell an entire team how to play a perfect game with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back, but getting the team to actually follow his crazy ideas and techniques--that's a bit harder.
Also, he's crazy enthusiastic about Quidditch, which makes it easier to practice three times a week on rainy days when what you really want is to drown yourself in blankets and tea.
"Good job, everyone! We just have to work a bit harder and by the time the first match swings around we'll be perfect," Sulu says for what is probably the fifth time as everyone begins to clear from the locker rooms. "And remember, we have practice next week on Tuesday and Tues--Thursday." He finishes with a tired sigh.
Jim hangs back and waits for everyone to leave, not really in the mood to get back to the castle yet. Spock talked to him earlier that day, although ‘talk’ is probably not the right word since all Spock did was stop Jim in the middle of the hallway and tell him he’d be working on their Astronomy project that night. That’s it. Not an ‘are you available’ or a ‘do you want to discuss ideas’ or anything that remotely resembled civilized speech between two work partners.
Spock most likely doesn’t even expect Jim to show up. This only makes Jim want to go even more, rub all his knowledge of space in front of Spock’s face and show him that he’s not a dumb Quidditch player that doesn’t know his right hand from his left.
Of course, all this motivation to show off would be far easier to put to use if Jim didn’t feel so damn tired. It had been a long week - seventh year really is as crazy as everyone says - and now that it is finally Friday, Jim wants nothing more than to rest, but he can’t just not show up.
“You alright?” Sulu asks after everyone’s left.
“Yup, just tired and not in the mood to deal with Spock,” Jim replies with a smile. “‘We just have to work a bit harder’ though? I think you’re losing your perspective, Captain.”
“Hey! I had to say something reassuring,” Sulu says as he claps a hand on Jim’s shoulder while they walk out together, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “By the way, thanks for congratulating the new kids and not hexing any of them off their brooms. I mean, I know I wanted to do it a couple of times...”
Jim laughs, amused by Sulu’s honesty. Usually, the Quidditch Captain is supposed to be an ever-positive but firm, confident and modest voice of command. So far Sulu had been doing a hell of job at that, but it’s nice to see that he’s still very much human like the rest of them at the end of the day.
“The rookies aren’t so bad. Just new and scared.”
“And shit at keeping the Bludgers from coming at you?”
“And shit at keeping the Bludgers from coming at me,” Jim agrees.
The rest of the walk back to the Gryffindor Tower is spent in companionable silence. The only sounds that can be heard are Sulu humming a cheerful, wizarding tune under his breath, and the noise made by their feet stepping on wet grass before they begin to set rhythmic echoes against cobblestone.
Most of the corridors are now empty, dinner time having ended an hour ago as their practice ran later than usual. Jim uses the silence as an opportunity to think about his Astronomy project.
He reckons Spock already has the whole thing figured out, but Jim also has a couple of ideas of his own that he wants to put into practice. Most likely, Spock will say ‘no’ the second Jim starts talking and not even hear him out, but Jim hasn’t taught himself how to give a perfect, trustworthy smile for nothing. Anyway, he has to at least try.
Ricino hadn’t set many rules for the project. In fact, from what Jim understood through a small, rushed, half-haphazard summary given by Popplewell, the only three rules were ‘be creative’, ‘be great’ and ‘show a new way to love the stars’. Very romantic and poetic and a perfect opportunity for Jim to ramble about space and how many stars there are out there and how they all have planets orbiting around them, possibly planets like Earth. If that isn’t exciting, nothing is.
“You’re still doing that thing with Spock?” Sulu asks quietly when they enter their dorm room. The rest of their dorm mates are already asleep, snuggled tightly under their red and gold blankets.
Sulu doesn’t waste any time stripping himself of all of his clothes and getting into bed, his preferred state of nudity not bothering Jim in the slightest as Jim changes to more comfortable clothes and grabs his Astronomy kit. Live with a bunch of guys for seven years and a flash of pansy arse every once in a while becomes a welcomed sight compared to the other things you might see.
“Don’t really have a choice, do I?”
“You could just not go. He didn’t even bother asking you if you were busy or had other plans. He didn’t ask you anything, by Merlin’s beard. He just told you where he was going to be and left.”
“Yeah, well, we’re partners, whether he wants or not and since I’m a man of my word, and I said I was going, that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Your call, Jim. Good luck,” Sulu says before he throws a blanket over his head and blacks out instantly.
Jim puts all of his stuff in his old explorers backpack, which is fraying at the seams and smells like blueberries and freshly cut grass. Jim adores it from the very bottom of his heart.
Once outside his room, hidden in the shadows of the staircase and far away from the voices below in the common room, Jim lets out a heavy sigh, finally able to admit now that he’s alone that meeting with Spock is really something he’d rather not do.
It isn’t that he doesn’t want to work with Spock, it’s just that Jim doesn’t find enjoyable the idea of working with someone who, by all apparent evidence, would rather stab himself in the face than work with him.
Jim is not a masochistic asshat, like Bones called him for three weeks after Jim told him about his plan to enroll in not two advanced classes after second year, like most people did, but four. In the end, he dropped Divination as the whole thing looked completely bogus and more like a bunch of made-up bullshit than anything else. Bones, on the other hand, actually ended up following Jim’s lead and chose three classes instead of two, getting enthralled by Jim’s slightly exaggerated, partially glamourous, some not strictly true stories of Muggle Studies.
The path Jim takes to the Astronomy Tower is one well-known to him, but not to most students. He goes down to the fourth floor through a winding staircase hidden by a small, clunky portrait of Rincewind, a wizard from the fourteenth century whom little is known about except that he somehow saved the world a good number of times and wished he rather hadn’t every single one of them.
Jim’s feet do most of the work for him, taking sharp turns and going through small corridors while Jim lets his mind stray. They take him through a passage next to the art classrooms that smells suspiciously of newt and up the many, many steps that make the Astronomy Tower the highest, most asthma-inducing tower of all of Hogwarts.
By the time Jim reaches the very top, where he knows Spock is, his lungs feel like they’re about to give out and his heart wants to punch him in the face. Jim’s fit, but not fit enough for Quidditch practice and a trip to the top of the star-gazing tower. No, sir.
He rests his right hand on top of the cool stone for a second, letting his head fall between his shoulders as the carbon dioxide burns its way out of his lungs. When Jim looks up, Spock is staring at him.
“Hey, sorry, just a bit- out of breath.” Jim says with a little wave, taking a step forward. “Quidditch practice and then stairs. Lot of stairs. I knew you’d be at the very top.”
“You came.” It is the only thing Spock says in reply, not a question but not an affirmation either. More like an unexpected turn of events that Spock’s brain is already trying to grasp at full speed. Jim can’t tell if Spock being surprised is a good thing or a bad one, but he’s leaning towards the latter from the lack of emotion in Spock’s voice.
“Of course I did. You said you’d be here to work on our Astronomy project.”
“I didn’t expect you to come.”
Jim barely resists the urge to roll his eyes and make a comment about how, if they’re stating facts now, he’s more than happy to begin sharing important ones, like the sky is blue, the grass is green and Sulu snores while he sleeps.
“I figured. So, what are we doing?”
At that, whatever spell that was holding Spock in that exasperating thrall breaks, and his curiosity or shock or whatever evaporates into thin air and he turns back to this work. He’s got a bunch of star maps scattered across the floor, as well as a couple of pieces of blank parchment and a telescope pointing towards an area of the sky now covered by a lazy, grey cloud.
“I have decided to combine Dinto Dell’s theory on why magic exists on our planet and not on others in the solar system and apply it to numerous arithmancy and muggle-based theories on the number of planets and stars in our known universe, to try to extrapolate the number of planets like ours. From that I plan to use Xing Ming’s and P. Carvell’s work to be able to ascertain the kind of life led on those planets, based on numerous complicated spells and enchantments.”
The entire speech takes a only a second to simplify itself in Jim’s head, all the unnecessary and tedious words obviously meant to show Jim how this was A Serious Project and not A Dumb Joke thrown out the window until only what Spock really meant remained.
“You want to figure out if there are other planets out there with magic? Cool.”
Spock remains undisturbed by Jim’s answer, but Jim can see the subtle way in which it affects him when Spock’s quill stalls on top of the parchment for the tiniest moment. Small enough to go unnoticed, but not enough that the ink doesn’t accumulate and make a tiny, dark stain.
Jim sits down on the floor next to Spock and gives the star maps a look. Lines have already been drawn connecting various stars and solar systems. There are magical equations on the margins, as well as a couple of muggle equations, which makes Jim wonder where Spock got them from in the first place. Spock isn’t in his muggle studies class and Jim doubts Spock’s ever spent any time on that section of the library.
It’s Spock though, so who knows. Maybe he has a secret library containing all sorts of useful knowledge under his bed. Bones tells him Spock has a regular bed just like everyone else, but Jim personally prefers his own version of events.
As Jim goes through each map individually, Spock gives no indication of whether or not he wants Jim to do something. He doesn’t acknowledge that Jim’s there at all. He simply keeps writing, occasionally looking at the sky from his telescope before he hastily scribbles something down.
Jim wants to help. He wants to do something - anything - for crying out loud. After all this is their project, not just Spock’s. He, against all odds, even likes Spock’s idea enough that he doesn’t want to make any complaints, at least not for now, but it’s hard to feel like he’s helping in anyway when he’s, you know, not.
It’s Jim’s annoyance that sparks him to say, “so, Spock... What kind of name is that?”
“It is the name my mother gave me.”
“Really?” Jim chuckles to himself. He only meant to break the ice and start some kind of conversation between them, but he finds Spock’s cool, detached answer too interesting to leave alone. “And where does it come from?”
“A book.”
Jim runs a hand through his hair and scoots the slightest bit closer to Spock.
“What kind of book?”
Spock has his eyebrows drawn together in irritation and his lips pursed in a white, tight line. Basically, he looks like he’s one step away from choking Jim, throwing his body off the Astronomy Tower and making the whole thing look like a freak accident.
Jim thinks he should probably stop. He wants to get along with Spock, honestly, he does. Even if not for their grade, at least so they can become some sort of friends. The guy looks terribly lonely wandering alone all the time. Seeing him like that makes something in Jim want to help in any way he can.
That something is not annoying Spock though, and it is definitely not pushing Spock’s buttons, but somehow it’s what Jim finds himself doing regardless.
“It is a book about a traveller who goes off into space and discovers a new world where everyone is named Kirk, asks terribly annoying questions and disturbs others when they’re trying to work,” Spock says, completely deadpan and serious as he continues working on their star map.
The comment is so bizarre and completely unlike the always somber, businesslike Spock that Jim had grown accustomed to over the years that it makes Jim burst into a small fit of laughter.
He never expected Spock to have a sense of humour with his habit of constantly glaring at everything and everyone that doesn’t meet his seriousness standards.
Somehow, Spock’s reply seems to be enough to break Jim out of whatever weird train of action he was headed. It makes Jim’s entire behavior do a 180º flip from annoyed, tired and miserable to ‘hey, maybe this isn’t so bad after all’.
“Scoot over,” Jim says. Spock raises a single eyebrow in silent questioning and if the whole thing isn’t a visual ‘Oh? You’re actually going to work? Really?’ jab then Jim doesn’t own the entire collection of Magpie’s Incredible & Most Veridic Stories about Space, Stars and Magic.
Spock probably expected to do the whole project alone while Jim played around. So far Jim hasn’t given him any proof otherwise and really, it’s about damn time the scales were evened.
“We’re work partners, aren’t we? I’m not letting you do all the work alone. Now scoot.” Spock does as Jim asks, eyeing Jim carefully the whole time. “Now about your muggle theories, what do you have so far? Are we going for accurate to the last number results or more vague, general answers? Do you want to make a special focus group or just pick a couple at random and go from there?”
This time, if Spock is surprised by Jim’s words he doesn’t let on, answering all of Jim’s questions without missing a beat. “I’m currently working with three pieces of work from muggle scientists. The results should be as accurate as possible, and I have yet to make a decision on the focus of the study.”
Jim hums, pleased with Spock’s answer. He picks up a parchment full of magical equations. When Spock doesn’t show any signs of wanting Jim to stop, he gets to work.
As he writes, Jim can feel Spock’s eyes boring into him, sharp and curious like a cat. It takes a lot for Jim not to squirm in discomfort; he’s never liked being under close observation. Instead, he angles the parchment so that it’s in Spock’s line of view and almost physically feels the focus of Spock’s attention shift from him to what he’s writing.
A couple of minutes in silence go by, until Spock lifts a pale finger to a scribbled equation Jim just finished writing and says, “it should be 12 here and not 9, since it’s connected to the star ‘Ock’.”
Jim looks at what he’s written and rereads it, going back a couple of lines to confirm what Spock’s just said. “Oh yeah, you’re right. Thanks.”
Spock doesn’t say anything else but Jim can feel him shifting away a little bit as he goes back to his own work.
After that they spend an hour working in silence, occasionally handing one another pieces of parchment with an easy confidence that seems to build with every minute spent in each other’s company. They work surprisingly well together, like they’ve been partners for years and today isn’t the first day they had a real conversation in the seven years they spent together at Hogwarts.
It is Spock who breaks the silence after Jim’s let out three loud yawns, stubborn to keep working despite feeling as tired as he did when Sulu insisted they practiced Quidditch every day for two weeks. Now that had been catastrophically awful.
“Professor Ricino told me you have a deep interest in the muggles’ achievements in space, and that the lecture he gave on going to the moon was based on an essay you wrote.”
“Hum? Yeah. I like space. An awful lot, if I’m honest. I thought everyone knew that,” Jim says, wondering where this is going. “What about you? Didn’t figure you for the kind of guy who cares about what the muggles are up to.”
Spock’s next answer takes a while to come out, like Spock is mulling over each and every word in his head before he finally lets them roll down his tongue. “My mother is a muggle. She used to read me muggle stories about space as a child.”
“Oh? Does your name really come from there, then? A book about space?”
Spock doesn’t reply and Jim thinks he’s done it. He has crossed an invisible line with his impertinent questions, fallen off a cliff from the land of relationships based on mutual respect to a sea of passive-aggressive hate. Jim always does this. He gets too close and too personal too fast for most people to handle, leaving only the weirdos standing after he’s done being his dysfunctional, abrasive self.
“Yes,” Spock finally replies without looking at Jim and then begins to pack his things. In a bunch of quick, methodical movements Spock has all of his things packed neatly into a brown leather handbag and is getting up without another word.
Jim considers asking Spock what he did wrong but reckons Spock would not appreciate that. From what Jim knows and has seen, Spock is a very private person. Just having to work with Jim must be a major disruption for Spock so talking to Jim about his private life must be even worse. As careless as Jim can be sometimes, he’s not a blind idiot and he doesn’t wake up every morning with the mission of bothering other people until they leave.
Jim’s surprised when Spock stops after reaches the archway leading to the stairs turns around in one swift movement. “I’ll be at the library tomorrow researching. You can come if you like.”
“I’ll be there,” Jim says without even thinking. Spock gives him a tiny nod of acknowledgement before he turns around again and walks away, taking two stairs at a time.
Jim, who is neither as methodical nor as quick as Spock, takes his time putting his quills and his ink bottle back in his bag. The journey back to his dorm room is one spent with half-closed eyes and a lot of yawning.
He passes by two prefects making rounds who only eye him for a couple of seconds before they continue walking. It’s amazing the kind of privileges you get as you grow older and more known in Hogwarts. Three years ago, at his height as a prank master and slacker, no one would ever let Jim go without a full inquiry into his intentions, where he’d been, where he was going, who he was with, etc.
Now they barely give him a glance. Jim blames it on Bones, who is too much of an old crow at the sweet age of seventeen to let Jim keep acting like a dumb kid.
As soon as Jim gets to his bed, he collapses, too tired to get out of his clothes or even get under the covers. His last thoughts are about what spending a day in the library with Spock will be like.
Jim thinks ‘nice’ and promptly falls asleep.
---------- // ----------
The first thing Jim sees when he wakes up is extremely bright sunlight. This sight only lasts a couple of seconds, as Jim loves his sleep like bears love honey and doesn’t get out of bed easily.
The first thing Jim hears - and the thing that wakes him up in the first place - is a voice. A loud, commanding, female voice.
“Kirk, Leonard asked me to get you out of bed so please do me a favour and get up already. He’s been waiting for you for ten minutes.”
“What?” Jim croaks out as he tries to hide under his pillow. Whoever is talking to him is having none of it though and pulls the pillow away from Jim’s lethargic hands more easily than Jim’s willing to admit.
“Get out of bed. Len is waiting. Move.” Distantly, Jim’s brain places the voice on top of Uhura’s head, which brings up a very big batch of questions that rank from ‘how did you get into the boys’ dorm room?’ to ‘Len? Len?’.
Before Jim can word any of them, Uhura has already walked out with the same energy and determination as when she walked in.
Jim considers completely ignoring everything Uhura said and just ditching Bones, but then he remembers he didn’t actually make any plans with Bones, which makes him wonder what’s left his friend in such a position that he’d ask Uhura to wake him up.
Grudgingly and very, very slowly Jim opens his eyes and gets up. He changes into slacks and a white buttoned shirt that looks mostly clean and smells reasonably well before he heads out, yawning and stretching as he walks.
When Jim gets out of the Gryffindor common room he finds Bones talking quietly to Uhura, who leaves the second Jim shows up but not before throwing Bones a very covert smile.
“Anything you wanna tell me about, Bones?”
“About the tournament? Absolutely,” Bones says, deviating from the subject with the speed of a hare racing a smart tortoise. “I talked to Boggins today. He said the Ministry of Magic announced the dates for the tournament yesterday.”
“And?”
“Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrive on the 24th of October. They put the Goblet of Fire out that night and pick the champions on Halloween night. The first task will be on November the 9th.”
“So soon? Usually they wait almost a month after everyone arrives to start.”
Bones shrugs his shoulders, not having anything else to add. “Me and Scotty were thinking of sneaking off to Hogsmeade to try Rosmerta’s new ginger and cherry mix, want to come?”
Ginger and cherry? “No, thanks. I think I’ll pass on that one. I have work to do anyway.”
“Work? On the second week of school? Who are you and what have you done to James Kirk?”
“Shut up.” Jim says as he gives Bones a playful punch on the shoulder. “I agreed to meet Spock at the library later to work on our Astronomy project.”
“Really? You and Spock? At the library?” Bones asks, sounding so skeptical and sarcastic that it kind of makes Jim want to punch him with intent. “I thought he would have bitten your head off and sewed it back in place by now. How did working together go anyway?”
“It went well. Spock is... nice. Quiet but nice, not the mean Mr. Grinch everyone plays him out to be.”
Bones eyes Jim curiously for a couple of seconds and Jim thinks he’d scratching his beard if he had one.
Whatever Bones wants to say he doesn’t say it, just claps Jim on the back and tells him he already had breakfast so they’ll see each other later. Jim nods, slightly dumbfounded by his friend’s unusual silence. Bones is nothing if not loud and clear about his opinions, however unpleasant they might be.
Jim eats breakfast alone, most students having already eaten earlier, and strolls back to the Gryffindor Tower to get his things without any rush. He and Spock hadn’t agreed on a time to meet, so Jim has taken the liberty to assume that late morning is as good a starting point as any.
When he finally gets to the library, after a quick chat with Sulu and his pal Chekov, who has the best accent in history, and a small stop at the kitchen for a strawberry smoothie, Jim finds Spock already there.
He has his nose practically glued to an old, dusty book and a sizeable amount of more old, dusty books covering his table. He’s also at the very, very end of the library where nobody goes since it’s near the Restricted Section and the noises that place makes are scary as hell.
“I thought I’d never find you,” Jim says. He drops into a seat in front of Spock and throws his bag on the floor.
“I’m sorry?”
“Nevermind,” he says. Spock doesn’t look like the biggest fan of hyperboles and Jim’s not in the mood to explain his figure of speech. “So, what do you have for us today?”
Jim can’t be sure it’s there, but he thinks he sees the corner of Spock’s lips lift just a fraction before he dissolves into a big explanation on what he’s currently doing, what he’s planning to do and what he’d like Jim to do. The last part comes as a bit of a surprise, as Jim thought Spock had no experience whatsoever working with others and thus Jim would have to fend for himself throughout the project.
Spock speaks with a calm, deliberate tone. Every word is carefully chosen from a wide range of possible synonyms like Spock has his own private dictionary in his head, which, somehow, Jim can see being true. There is no room for error in the way Spock speaks, every word fitted neatly next to its siblings. Everything is said with the purpose of meaning one thing and one thing only. It’s effortless and, if Jim is willing to do admit it, almost beautiful for its practicality and sensibility.
If Jim stares at Spock’s face a little too much and admires Spock’s bone structure while Spock talks, their hidden location makes it so no one is the wiser.
After Spock has finished talking and Jim has finished staring, Jim gets straight to work. Spock asked him to search for any relevant information in the books he’d picked so they’d have a wider and more practical base to go from, so that’s exactly what Jim does, copying everything he thinks might be relevant in neat, tidy handwriting.
He is about two inches into a piece of parchment when the silence begins to get to him, growing seemingly heavier with each second. Around the fourth inch, Jim feels like there’s someone in the Restricted Section staring at him and by the fourth and a half he’s sure he hears a noise coming from there. Dammit, this is why Jim doesn’t like coming here. Jim gives up on trying to remain quiet when he reaches five inches. He blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, which just so happens to be about his new favourite event and practically the only thing that’s been on his mind since the beginning of school year.
“So... Are you excited about the tournament?”
Spock looks up, thinks for a second and then says, “I have to admit that while barbarian forms of entertainment are not usually what I would consider enjoyable, the energy surrounding the Triwizard competition is quite infectious. I find myself interested in the event despite my best wishes.”
Jim winces at ‘barbarian’ but doesn’t let that stop him from hearing about Spock’s ‘interest despite his best wishes’ and from asking, “thinking about putting your name in the Goblet?”
This time Spock doesn’t hesitate before he says, “no.”
“Why not?” Jim asks and watches Spock put down his quill and settle his hands together beneath his chin, as if preparing to give a small child a lecture.
“Since the tournament began in 1294 there have been 247 deaths. Eighteen of those deaths were participants in the tournament, the other 229 audience members. There have also been 1053 injuries, 156 of those permanent malformations, 570 considerably serious and slow to heal. The tournament is also known to exaggerate the qualities of its participants and create ‘momentary’ champions that are soon forgotten.”
“So, what you’re saying is... You’re scared of getting hurt?”
“I am not scared of illogical, nonsensical, idiotic, superficial competitions that serve only as a mean of adulation to already sizable egos, Kirk.”
If Jim were to say he’s surprised by Spock’s vicious answer, he would be lying. He’s been waiting for Spock to show some signs of being bothered by Jim’s presence since they started working together and Jim’s almost happy that it finally happened. Better now, while they still don’t know each other very well and forgiving and forgetting should be easier, than later.
“Call me Jim,” Is all he says in reply.
Spock rolls his eyes at him and doesn’t bother replying, but Jim can tell he’s not truly angry at him, or at least, he doesn’t look like it. He looks more like Bones, annoyed but in a fond sort of way.
“Oh, I’d almost forgotten!” Jim exclaims before he pulls his bag from the ground starts going through its contents. “I brought a book, it’s not very related to what we’re doing but I thought we could use it as inspiration.”
Jim takes out the book with a small flourish and hands it to Spock, who reads its title with not one, but two raised eyebrows in surprise, or is it shock?
“Advanced Astronomy for the Casual Enthusiast with Already Developed Interest," Spock reads.
“It’s written by a couple, a muggle and a witch. They talk a lot about how the future of Astronomy is in combined work between muggles and wizards.”
“It sounds fascinating,” Spock says and he looks like he actually means the words and isn’t just saying them to be polite. Jim beams with pride.
After that they don’t get much work done. Spock spends his time reading Jim’s book with a look of deep interest on his face, while Jim sketches in a small notebook what he thinks another magical civilization could look like.
His drawings look, and have always and most likely will always look, like they could have been drawn by a five-year-old. Jim’s proud of them anyway.
Around mid-afternoon the sun takes a peek from behind the September clouds and golden rays of sunlight stream down the library’s windows and cast a lazy, orange light over the room. Without even noticing, Jim finds himself watching tiny specks of dust play, twist and spin in the air before settling on top of their table and Spock’s books.
It’s around that time that Jim suggests they go work by the lake, underneath the big oak tree.
The question practically slips past Jim’s lips on its own, the rare sight of a clear sky making Jim want to get up and run outside immediately.
Surprisingly - or maybe not, Jim’s finding Spock is not that hard to understand as he thought he’d be - Spock agrees to Jim’s suggestion and together they each take two books with them.
A couple of people stare at them as they walk out side by side, and they definitely get weird glances thrown at them when they settle underneath the old oak tree, but Jim’s never been one to care about what people think and he doesn’t think Spock is either.
To say that they spend the rest of the afternoon working is a bit of an overstatement. They read the books they bring with them, absolutely, but neither takes notes as they humm and ah in all the right passages and occasionally bring to attention a certain piece of text they think the other will find interesting.
It is through this interaction that Jim discovers that Spock finds the moon - the actual moon, not its not-so-interesting magical properties they’re forced to study every year - interesting. The thought that there’s a gigantic piece of rock going around and around the earth, never crashing into their blue planet but getting almost imperceptibly closer every day, is fascinating. The fact that the other planets in the solar system have more satellites of their own is even more intriguing.
Jim talks about Apollo 13 and Neil Armstrong. Spock tells him about the composition of the sun and black holes. Jim draws a rocke tship to show Spock what they’d have to build if they wanted to go to the moon and then Spock draws a better, more accurate one.
They go back to the castle after the sunsets, walking together into the Great Hall. Jim makes his way to the Gryffindor table, where Bones, Sulu and Chekov are, because apparently eating with your own house table is out of fashion now, and Spock goes to the Ravenclaw table, because that’s where he always eats.
Jim almost invites him to eat at his table but decides against it at the last second. He does ask Spock if they’re meeting again tomorrow though and can’t help smiling like a big, dumb idiot when Spock says yes.
Silently, Jim hopes that working together once or twice a week - or more, if Spock’s up to it - will become a thing. Jim loves to talk about space and he doesn’t get nearly as many opportunities as he’d like. Spock actually wants to talk about space too, making the two conversations they’ve had so far two of the most interesting in Jim’s life.
His friends won’t get it, or at least they won’t before they tease him thoroughly about it, so Jim doesn’t bring it up, slipping into a conversation about the Quidditch World Cup with ease.
Tomorrow he’ll bring his copy of The Universe As We Know It with him and let Spock murmur ‘fascinating’ every so often as he reads it and Jim sort of works. Jim will talk about the tournament to see if he can change Spock’s mind about it and it will be great, all of it.