Made Of Glass ((August)) PG-13

[Dylan Caoimhe]

He groggily raised his eye lids and met warm, orange-ish sunshine peeking through a stained glass window; he was exhausted, and he couldn't move any part of his body except for his eyes, which felt heavy and slightly sore, but for some reason he thought his immobility fit the current atmosphere. All Dylan remembered was walking down a corridor when a flash went off, blinding him, and knocking him back and off of his feet. He remembered coming into contact with something hard; more than likely a very unforgiving stone wall, and then nothing. But, he remembered someone cursing and laughing, and it settled in. He knew that voice. That cackling, loud, irritating voice. "Peeves," Dylan said lazily through gritted teeth. But he was surprised. Someone had spoken the poltergeist's name at the exact same time, and only then did Dylan slowly turn his head and realize that Madam Pomfrey was beside his bed, sticking a cork inside a bottle of pink liquid and looking furious.

"That's right Mr. Caoimhe," she said irritably. "Peeves. Unfortunately you were a victim of one of his little antics. But he's in a right spot he is. You hit the back of your head so hard on that statue you were bleeding!" Dylan instinctively raised a tenuous hand and ran it over the back of his head. "I fixed you up, no worries." He knew this, but he couldn't help running his hand over the back of his head, inspecting. "Oh, and you have been excused from Ancient Runes, so not to worry about that." Excused from Ancient Runes?

"How long had I been unconscious?"

"Well, you were only out for about ten minutes, but then I put you to sleep in order to sort out the back of your head. There was a very small crack in your cranium which I mended, so I would say you were out for about two hours at the most."

"Peeves," Dylan said even more menacingly, and a green spark shot up and erupted in the air from beside his bed. He looked down to see the tip of his wand sticking out of a side pocket on his school bag.

"Mr. Caoimhe, believe me, I feel your rage. If only you knew how many students report to me because of that stupid........" She trailed off, and though she lowered her voice, Dylan still heard the very nasty name she had uttered and would have laughed, mainly because he never would have thought Madam Pomfrey to speak such language, but he was too.....tired.

"What did he do to me?" Dylan asked looking out at the warm sky, wishing he were on his Firebolt.

"Well, it's not quite clear what happened to the two of you, but it doesn't matter now anyway. Just rest up, and you are free to leave whenever you feel up to it." She stored the pink liquid in a cabinet and proceeded to the door. "Good day to you," she said before leaving and closing the door quietly behind her.

Two of you, Dylan thought. He raised himself up and could see someone lying on their side on the bed directly across from his own. He couldn't tell who it was, but he could see that they were in Ravenclaw, and they looked to be older. He layed back down and sighed. He just noticed the weird taste in his mouth; clearly Madam Pomfrey must have put him to sleep and awoken him with potions. He moved his tongue around in an attempt to weaken the strong lingering taste, and then drifted back to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He woke up to still silence, feeling a bit better, or not as exhausted at least, and pulled himself up until his back rested against the metal headboard of his bed. There was still brilliant evening sunshine strewn across the sky and pouring into the windows which let him know that he wasn't asleep for very long. He wiped his eyes, and glanced at the person across from him, who had shifted so now his face was fully visible, and Dylan felt his face slightly fall.

It was August.

Lying there.

Asleep.

He felt the very thinnest bit of concern in his chest, but it died quickly. He hadn't even seen, and certainly hadn't spoken to August since the train ride home at the end of the last school year; and that was because in Dylan's world, there was no one by the name of August Reid. And their last encounter had been a situation Dylan was over, but didn't forget. He had never felt more unlike himself or more humiliated in his entire life, and had spent almost two weeks hating himself. But he was over it. He was done with it. But he could not deny it to himself. Something in him perked up at seeing August for the first time this year, and Dylan found himself examining his sleeping figure.

He looked a little older, obviously, but he seemed to have stayed the same height. But then, Dylan couldn't tell given he wasn't standing up.

What am I doing?

The thought had crept up on Dylan and made him feel ashamed. What was he doing? What did he care about how August had grown, or changed? He didn't care anymore. Right? And besides, he may have grown a little physically, but mentally, Dylan was almost positive August was the exact same way that he was last year. Scared. Frightened by every and anything. Still.....running away. Dylan shook his head and looked out at the sunset. He would stay for a few more minutes until he felt ready, and then he would go back to his Common Room and resume his ignorance of the existence of August Reid.

[August Reid R7]

There was nothing. Only darkness. August's eyes opened suddenly. The ceiling staring back at him was the not the four poster bed that he was used to seeing. Where was he? He sensed movement and straining to look to his side he saw the familiar figure of Madam Pomfrey. Madam Pomfrey?! That could only mean that he was in the Hospital Wing. He was in the Hospital Wing? It seemed like he had to use all his strength but finally he was able to form the words and force them to be audible. At first he mumbled. Madam Pomfrey looked up from what she was doing and approached him. She just smiled telling him that he hadn't made any sense. He had to try even harder if he wanted actual English to pass through his lips. "What happened? Why am I here?"

"You couldn't expect me to leave you in the corridors with a broken arm and a sprained ankle, could you?" she retorted. "You're lucky, broken bones are easy to fix. Your friend lost some blood." Friend? What was she talking about? "If I had a sickle for every time a student was sent to me because of Peeves..." She continued muttering to herself as she walked away finishing her work. August wasn't done talking with her but she obviously was done talking to him. She did not take the healing arts lightly as anyone could tell you. When it was time to rest, it was time to rest. Her sudden absence from his side told him that she thought it was best if he rested. August closed his eyes and tried to recall what had happened. A bright light. Cursing and laughing. That must have been Peeves. But what exactly happened?

His dreams where full of odd images and strange laughing. In one scene August had spotted Dylan down a corridor. Having purposefully avoided him, August wanted to talk with him. Smack in the middle of the corridor was Peeves. This would not have bothered August save for one thing. Peeves had a firework that he was about to light. It was a little fuzzy as dreams tend to be but in it the firework was aimed straight at Dylan. Before he knew it, Peeves had lit the damned thing and August only had seconds to react. Without even thinking he grabbed his wand and yelled "Stupefy!" and dove toward Dylan trying to save him from harm it was a little unclear as the dream started to fade. "Dumb Raven Claven! This is Weasleys Beasleys fireworks! Spells backfire! Hahaha!" The dream ended in a loud blast of light.

August suddenly sat up in a sweat. His arm had a dull ache. He looked around and found himself still in the Hospital Wing. How long was he out? The sun was starting its descent in the sky but there was still plenty of natural light. Looking around he saw the one person he didn't expect.

Dylan.

The older Slytherin was awake also and looking just as anxious to leave as August felt. He didn't know why but every time they ran into each other, their meeting did not go well. Dylan looked a little older and just as handsome as ever. There was no where to run now. Neither one of them could leave until Madam Pomfrey gave them the word so it was either talk or sit in silence.

"Hey, Dylan." August broke the silence. His voice sounded weak compared to the oppressive silence. He cleared his throat hoping to be a little louder and clearer. "What happened to you?" He asked sincerely.

[Dylan Caoimhe]

Dylan's leg suddenly felt energized and had started to shake. He sucked on the back of his top layer of teeth, hesitantly thinking. He could ignore him. He could get up and walk away right now, even if he didn't quite feel back to normal just yet, but he couldn't push himself to do it. Truthfully, some part of him didn't want to. He shook it off. He wouldn't go back to the way he was. He couldn't. What was wrong with a little friendly conversation? Everything, he thought. But he ignored it. "I don't really know what happened." Dylan's voice was surprisingly strong given the peaceful silence in the room. He found that he was still somewhat embarrassed by their last meeting, so he looked out of the window instead of looking at August. "All I remember is a flash, a hard hit on the back of the head, and then that was it." He cleared his throat and lowered his voice a bit. "According to Madam Pomfrey, I hit my head on some statue..... it left a small crack in my skull. Missed Ancient Runes."

It wasn't until now he really realized how angry he really was at Peeves. He had missed an entire class because of him and made a mental note research cursing ghosts. Pushing that out of his head, Dylan sighed and looked away from the window and met August's gaze, and it took him by surprise. August looked as if he really was concerned. Dylan squinted, but only for a second before scratching the back of his head. He felt a smile coming to his face, but he quickly fought it off and layed back down, putting his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. He needed to get himself together. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to let it.

He felt those old feelings coming back, and he hated himself for it. He felt the butterflies, the heat in his cheeks, the uncontrollable urge to smile. And it made him sick. But this was only happening because he hadn't seen August in months, right? That was it. It had just been a while, and honestly, even though their meetings weren't exactly the most comfortable, Dylan missed just talking to and being near him. "So?" He said looking down and between his feet at August. "What happened to you?"

[August Reid R7]

He looked as strong as ever. August suddenly felt very lonely on his side of the room. The Hospital Wing was rarely populated although there were a great deal of beds. Madam Pomfrey was a very talented healer as a result students that were sent to the Wing were soon taken care of and sent on their way. Sometimes the student would return very begrudgingly to their lives as if this disruption in time did not take its fell effect. In the long run it was probably for the better. Even missing a single class could put one behind and then one would be playing catch up for a while. Unless you wanted to get extra attention with the teacher. Some teachers might be all right one on one such as Professor Dreux or Professor Granger but suppose you ended up with Professor Snape or Professor Binns. That would be awful.

His side of the room was empty save for himself. Dylan's side was empty as well but at least he was there. It had been a while since the two had been in close proximity of each other. All the feelings of being under his protection rushed back to him. It was true that Jack had been nicer to August ever since Riley arrived on the scene but still not nice like an older brother should be. August's eyes brushed over Dylan's muscles and fantasized about the Slytherin having a nice little chat with his older brother. His eyes swept across the form of the older boy and met his eyes. August swallowed with guilt as Dylan mentioned Peeves and hitting a statue. It was a dream wasn't it? Surely that couldn't have been what really happened? It seems like so long ago.

Dylan found himself lying down but August continued to sit up. "I'm not really sure," he answered. "I remember walking in the corridors seeing Peeves with some fireworks. Then he told me that they were 'Weasleys Beasleys fireworks' and then... and then... nothing. He was aiming toward you and..." August smiled awkwardly. It was the first conversation he had had with Dylan for some time and he felt so ignorant and childish. Nothing like what Dylan would like. "I'm not really sure." He looked toward Madam Pomfrey's office. "I wonder if she'll keep us overnight..."

[Dylan Caoimhe]

"She won't," Dylan said thoughtfully considering August for a small moment as he continued staring at the ceiling. He knew without even looking at him that he had chosen to omit something from their little chat, but chose not to address it. "She said we could leave as soon as we felt up to-" Even as he spoke he felt odd, and color once more rushed to his cheeks. We? Certainly that wasn't the word he had intended to use? What he meant to say was August could leave whenever he damn well wanted to, and he himself was leaving now. Right now. Alone. By himself. Yeah, that was right......

Dylan sat up and swung his legs over the bed, placing his feet lightly on the floor. He felt alright, or as normal as he thought he could feel at the present moment. He stood up, and he didn't fall to the floor; his legs felt fine. He leaned back a little and stretched; everything felt, and was good. He casually scooped his bag from off of the floor and threw it over his shoulder. His head had a slight spin going around it from the potions he supposed, but nothing to serious to the point where he couldn't make his way to his dormitory and to his own bed. "So........."

He had spoken without actually meaning to speak. After all, what exactly was there to really say? There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. So, he stated the obvious to him. "Um........I hope you feel better, alright?" And Dylan meant it. He really meant it. He meant it more than he had cared to mean it, and nodding in August's direction, taking in his face one last time, he started for the door. He grabbed the handle, but did not turn it. He honestly didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. August's eyes were branded on the back of his eye lids, and Dylan kept his eyes closed just to see them.

[August Reid R7]

August thought it was awfully brazen of Dylan to try and stand up but he did. Not only that be was able to walk. August didn't want Dylan to leave. Not yet. It had been so long since that time in the the compartment on the train. He had grown so much. Learned so much. Surely Dylan didn't think of him as a little kid anymore. Surely? It was unknown to him whether he could walk or not just yet but he had to stop Dylan. He wasn't going to walk out on him this time. His head was a little dizzy but nothing too unmanageable. He had to show Dylan that he was strong. That he wasn't the weak fourth year that Dylan had once known. Or rather, assumed to know. August would be the first to admit that he was scared. But some things were worth pursuing.

"Wait..." he called after the older Slytherin. Dylan seemed to hear him as he put his hand on the door but did not turn the handle. It's either now or never. Swinging his legs over the bed his bare feet touched the cool floor. The contrast to the warm bed was quite shocking but August put the thought aside. There were more important things than being comfortable. Vaguely wondering where his shoes were he slowly stood up on his feet. It wasn't as bad as he thought it might have been. His ankle was a little sore where Madam Pomfrey had healed his sprain. She had done a brilliant job though. His arm was still in a sling not because it was still broken but more than likely Madam Pomfrey had not had a chance to remove it just yet.

Joining Dylan at the door they looked at each other for a moment. Dylan was still taller than he but not by much. "He was aiming at you with the fireworks. I... I... didn't want you to get hurt so I tried to Stupefy them. Peeves told me that they were Weasleys' fireworks. I always had heard that they repelled spells but I had no idea..." Dylan had such an intense gaze that August found himself looking away for a moment. But he was tired of looking at the floor. He liked Dylan. He really liked Dylan. Why should that be so difficult to convey? August looked back at Dylan. A small smile came to his lips. "I'm sorry that you got hurt."

[Dylan Caoimhe]

Dylan knew that his mouth had been slightly agape, and his tongue had gone very dry. He peered into August's face with the likes of which he had never done before. Ever since August had gotten up off of his bed talking to him, Dylan had been staring in somewhat disbelief at what was indeed happening. August was speaking to him, freely, and dare he say it, comfortably at that. There was so much that was going through and around Dylan's head, and when August told him what he did, or what he tried to do rather, everything came to a stand still, and Dylan had the most strange feeling come forth inside of his chest. His school bag fell to the floor beside his immobile feet.

The feeling was sad, but happy; burdened, but alleviated; and a whole plethora of other strange, conflicting emotions that filled him, and Dylan felt as if he were going to burst, or be sick. And then, just when he thought he was going to puke, there was a faint crack inside him, and then......nothing. Nothing........as if he weren't even alive and had entered some weird state of being. Somewhere inside him, a voice was screaming, and he couldn't help but envision his fifteen year old self standing behind him, yelling furiously.

"What the hell are you doing? You don't need him! You don't need anybody! You've been alone all this time! He's not-"

Dylan held up his hand, and the angry voice fell silent. He thought this must have looked odd to August but he did not care. This was the strangest that Dylan had felt in his entire life. It was almost as if he wasn't even there in the moment, like he had left himself behind or something of the like. Then, there was only one thing to do; or only one thing that popped up into Dylan's mind and stayed there. August was so very close to him, and he knew that the Ravenclaw could more than likely feel the warmth radiating from him in waves. But.....Dylan had started to think, to reevaluate, but there was no room for thinking.....only this.........

There wasn't very much space in between them........Dylan reached his raised hand forward, cautiously, and lightly placed it behind August's neck and the lower part of the back of his head; the skin was smooth and his hair, soft. It was now that he realized how much taller August had gotten, and it was now he realized how much older August had really appeared to be. Not just physically, but in other ways........so it seemed. All Dylan saw was blue as he moved in closer.......and closer.....as if being pulled by some irresistible force. And before he knew it, his lips had met a soft warmth. A warmth that Dylan felt he had been waiting so desperately to feel for a very long time now. He moved away slowly, his forehead still pressed to August's, and his eyes still closed. A small smile came to his parted lips, and something in him cracked again.

He had been like cold stone to August like he had done plenty of times before......and it was now Dylan realized that each of those times, August seemed to be able to soften him. It was like.......whenever August came around, his feelings, his heart, he himself was made of glass..........and Dylan kissed him again, a little harder, but still as gentle as the first time.

[August Reid R7]

Dylan's raised hand made August rethink his strategy. Was Dylan so angry that he was going to hit him? Maybe Dylan didn't want to be saved. Saved. A lot of good August did. But he had tried. Shouldn't that be what mattered most? August tried. And like all of the things in his life, it had failed miserably. A tickle of fear sourced through his body but his gaze did not falter. There was no way that he would let Dylan run this time. There would be no getting out of this one. This time, August and Dylan would face their feelings. Whether it be good or bad. Even though the hand was there, there was no anger in Dylan's eyes. The two of them stood in silence for a moment, neither one making a sound. The movement of their diaphragms sounding like mountains moving.

Then the hand raised moved to August's neck. It was a spot that was used to having a hand there as August often found himself rubbing that particular spot with his own hand. The two boys were very close. August could feel the warmth and strength radiating from the the older boy. They drew closer and closer and there was only one thing left to do. August was surprised when he felt warm soft lips on his own. His eyes opened wide is shock but soon closed in satisfaction. Dylan drew back and August felt a longing to have that feeling back. He wanted to say something but the mood would not let him. It forced him to be silenced and not spoil the moment. Their foreheads together he had to remind himself to breathe. Did that really happen?

Before he could think about it any longer, Dylan's lips were once again pressed against his. Still gentle but more sure. This time August returned the kiss. He wanted the moment to last forever. This feeling was what he had been missing in his life. The feeling of being wanted. Of wanting something outside yourself. August tentatively reached out with his own hands and placed them gingerly on Dylan's chest. With a nervous energy he moved them to the small of the Slytherin's back and pulled the older boy closer. It was fun and exciting and a little bit taboo to be feeling another person like this. August drew away slowly and let out a small giggle. His first kiss had been everything that he expected it to be.

Making eye contact with Dylan August finally felt he could speak. He loosened his grip on Dylan but still held him. "I like you," the words seemed to burst from his lips. "I really like. Until now I've been too scared to say it but... now that seems childish. I like you."

[Dylan Caoimhe]

He didn't know how to respond. He knew how he felt, but he wasn't sure if he could exactly articulate it; he didn't have any experience with things like this. He had never in his life told anyone that he had liked them, and he couldn't bring himself to tell the one person that he did like.....that he wanted, what he knew he probably should. He closed his eyes in effort, but he knew he couldn't force himself to say something that he wasn't ready to, regardless of how he felt or if it were true or not; which it was. August almost looked at him expectant, but.....he also looked damn near heavenly in the dull orange, warm sunlight that still peered in through the windows. Dylan smiled, and almost as if he couldn't help himself, he kissed August again. Truthfully, that was all that he had wanted to do for the rest of his life; or so he felt. He had never had a feeling like this that had made him feel so content, like he had had all that he would ever need in the form of the person that he was now kissing, and that was exactly the kind of feeling that Dylan wanted. But, for some reason he just couldn't tell August that he liked him back.

He pulled away slowly, and couldn't help smiling the brightest smile that he probably ever smiled in his entire life. For once, he felt as if he had gotten exactly what he asked for and then some, regardless of how long or how tedious of a journey it was to get to this point. He couldn't understand it at first; he spent many years making fun of people and disbelieving in the legitimacy of their relationships. He had seen so many couples proclaim their love for each other, but then they almost always ended up hurting one another at some point; which was something that you just didn't do to someone who you claimed you loved and only wanted to be with. He understood that certain times, hurting the one you loved was almost unavoidable, he just didn't quite accept it; he would never hurt, or lie to August. But now, if all those people that he had made fun of felt anything like Dylan had felt at the present moment, then he took everything that he doubted back; well, half of everything that he said. He felt as if he wanted to give his all to August, like he wanted to be August's all. He didn't quite know what that meant, but it felt like it was right.

This was so stupid, he thought. At first he wasn't sure what that thought was aimed at, and then he realized, he was the one being stupid. Here he was, in a moment that he had waited for so long to come, and when it finally did, when August had finally stopped running, Dylan was hesitant? And all because of stupid mental blocks and issues that he was harboring? He had given August so much crap about being childish and immature, but wasn't he doing the exact same thing? He was seventeen now, not seven. The whole, "I'm so complicated, no one will ever understand me routine" really didn't fit Dylan, and he knew it. Yes, he had a murky childhood, yes he had traumas, but he would never get over all of those things if he didn't even try, and he knew it. He stopped caressing August's neck, and took both of his hands in each of his and stepped closer. He smiled as he looked him. "I like you too."