Home

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

It was so strange to think of that little place above the shop as home, but somewhere during the week Michael had caught himself mentally referring to it as that. Really though, sitting there working from a book, like he had gotten in the habit of doing while waiting for Dare, it seemed more like home than the Common Room ever had, maybe even more like home than home had seemed. He just hoped Dare came home soon, it always seemed like much too long between lunch and when they got to see each other again.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

The door downstairs opened, then closed. Dare didn't thud up the stairs like usual, though. It took him a few minutes to make it, and when he got to the top, he dropped his bookbag by the door. He was tired, and God, he ached, but he'd needed to go to work. He needed the money, and he'd wanted--hoped--to be a little better by the time he'd gotten home. He didn't though. The ache went on, and when Dare sat on the couch at Michael's side, he did so gingerly, in motions reminiscent of those first weeks when he'd been so worried about dirtying the antiques.

Dare sighed and rested his elbows against his knees, leaning forward against them rather than collapsing back against the cushions. He closed his eyes. "How was your day?" he asked quietly, hoping Michael had something better to say than what Dare was hoping to avoid. He knew that Michael would get it out of him, and likely with minimal effort, but it was worth a try.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael's eyebrows came together as he watched Dare come in and sit, a feeling of dread instantly washing over him. He heard the question, but as he sat his book on the table in front of them he couldn't bring himself to answer a fine or a I had a good day. "What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes racing over Dare as though he could find the answer written somewhere, then finally settling on his face.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Dare could feel Michael's gaze, and his head lowered, letting his fringe sweep entirely over one eye and obscuring the other. "I'm tired," he said, the truth, if not all of it. "I hurt. There's not like, a pain potion around here is there?" He hoped so. He hadn't wanted to go to the school nurse, he wasn't giving them any more satisfaction than they'd already had, and he hadn't wanted to ask Dru, either. He could suck up his pride enough for Michael, and that was all. Dare didn't even know how bad the damage was. He hadn't looked in a mirror since he'd gotten dressed that morning. All he knew was that nothing showed on his arms.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

I hurt. Michael stared at Dare for a few long seconds before the rest of what he had said sunk in. In a moment of shock and confusion he stood, nodding and stuttering out that he would go look. What had happened? There had to be a potion somewhere... He dug around in the bedroom until he found a small glass bottle. Why did Dare need it? A few minutes passed before he came back in the living room, bottle in hand. "What happened?" he asked softly as he held out the bottle.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Dare took the bottle gratefully, working the top and taking a long drink before even contemplating his answer. He did so as he put the stopper back in, then curled his hand around the bottle. "I'm not even sure," he said. "It was like...I'd turn a corner and something would happen. And when I'd turn around, it'd just be the usual crowd, or no one." Dare shrugged, then winced slightly at the sting of his back. He kept his head down, knowing the likelihood that he'd escaped a shiner, and somehow hoping they could just turn the lights off and go to bed.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael wanted to wrap his arms tightly around Dare, but resisted; he didn't know where Dare was hurt, or how badly. "That doesn't make any sense," he said, silently begging for an explanation. Surely there was more to the story than that. His hands balled into light fists as he tried to keep his mind from going wild with ideas. He wanted to know what had happened, even if just the knowledge that it had...he pushed that thought away.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

"I don't know either," Dare said. "I mean, the first time, I heard...one of the slurs again, and after that whispers, but...I don't know. It's worse, but I don't even know who...I couldn't point out who'd done it. And I...I'm not good at Charms," Dare said, hanging his head lower. "I don't know any hexes, I don't even know what they did, except it...it's uncomfortable." And he couldn't throw a decent shield either. Dare was way behind in both Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. They actually practiced the spells in classes here, rather than theory.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael's eyes darkened in both anger and confusion, "What did they do?" Dare had to know, or at least be able to tell him what hurt, what the result had been. His question wasn't so much the spells they had used, but how had they hurt Dare? They had hurt Dare. Michael felt his wand burn at his side. Dare had been hurt and he hadn't even known anything was happening to even attempt to help.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

He didn't want to show Michael. He wanted to just pretend it hadn't happened, the way he pretended the whispers, slurs, and lude gestures didn't happen. The way he'd pretended the Gryffindors' pranks were nothing more than that. But this was Michael, and if he couldn't tell Michael, who could he tell?

Dare took a deep breath, then set the bottle on the low table in front of him before reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulled, grimacing as he lifted it off, then laid it over the arm of the couch beside him, shifting away from Michael to display his back, where most of the discomfort had centered, likely from the fact that whatever bastards had done it had been cowards as well. "I don't know what's there," he said. "It's uncomfortable, though."

Uncomfortable was an understatement. The better part of his back, stretching down below the waistband of his pants, was spotted with furnunculus boils. There were a couple other visible spells, minor cuts that had bypassed his shirt entirely, but the boils were the main issue. Dare had various other marks on him, but the boils were the most obvious. "I just ache," Dare said, still keeping his head down.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael's own back instantly started to ache and his chest constricted. "Dare," he whispered, pulling back a hand that had tried to sneak out to touch Dare. He bit his lip hard and reached for his wand. "I don't know how much I can do..." he said softly, knowing that even with spells he wouldn't be able to fix everything. But he tried, he just didn't want Dare to hurt anymore. And Dare had went to work like that!

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Dare grimaced again at the itchy feel of things on his back knitting together, absorbing into his skin. The feel of tightly stretched skin, pain and deep-seated itching didn't disappear entirely, but it faded enough to be bearable, and Dare released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you," he said softly. There were still some boils left, the ones that had been the largest refusing to go away just yet, but the cuts were nearly invisible now.

Dare tested his back by straightening a bit, pulling in a sharp breath at the motion, but it was better. A lot better. Dare turned back toward Michael, debating, then pushed aside his fringe. "Is there anything you can do for this?" he asked, his voice even softer now. The mottled mark around his left eye wasn't at all fist-shaped. but it was dark, and obvious. "I...tripped a couple times, and once...one of my books got me." It had flown miraculously from his bookbag.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

There was no way that was all of the story, but Michael didn't push, not when his own eye started to ache and he could only begin to imagine how Dare felt. His eyebrows came together tightly as he tried not to think too hard on what Dare had gone through, knowing it would only bring around the anger sooner if he did. His eyes searched Dare's, and his throat closed as he tried to think.

Was there anything he had been taught to help with something physical like that? His hand came up to brush gently at Dare's hair, licking his lips. Why hadn't they gone after him? Michael knew how to use his wand, that was why, had to be... He wished that he could take more of Dare's pain away, but didn't know how. "I can't think of anything," he whispered, feeling horrible for not knowing.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Dare dropped his gaze, nodding. "It's okay," he said, hoping to reassure Michael, even if he knew it wouldn't work. "I'll...cover it up in the morning." Michael probably didn't want to know how, so Dare didn't say. He didn't know how well his knowledge of makeup would sit with Michael, considering he'd never worn it in front of him aside from the masquerade. "I have my ways," he added. It wouldn't cover it completely, but between a little makeup and his fringe, he'd pass.

"What about you?" Dare asked, wanting to be sure he wasn't hogging all the attention while Michael sat there with his own trials. Of course, anyone who attacked Michael would have to be an absolute moron or carrying around a deathwish, but Dare wanted to make sure. He also wanted to be sure that Michael didn't go looking for anyone over this. It wasn't that bad. Even if it was.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael shook his head, "Nothing happened." He almost felt guilty about it, how could so much happen to Dare when he had gotten through the day without much more than a whispered remark? "Is there anything else?" he asked, he needed to know if that was everything. If it wasn't, he would surely find out later anyway, and if it was then he would be at least a little relieved that he had been able to help as much as he had.