Twinsensibility Part Thirty Two

[dysonrules]

It's still Twinsday from this chair! WOOT! Many thanks to noeon for bursting my bubble of denial and informing me that NO, IT IS NOT TUESDAY. *pouts* A billion thanks to byaghro for fixing all my stupid errors. *facepalm* There were lots.

Lorcan made it through the common room and into the hall before Lysander caught him. Lorcan shook him off, but his brother was tenacious. A hand snagged his elbow and held on tightly.

Lorcan spun and grabbed Lysander by his ridiculous bright blue jumper and slammed him into the wall. He felt a shard of remorse when a flash of pain crossed Lysander’s fine features, but he ignored it in favour of anger.

“Why, Lysander?" he demanded.

His brother's eyes closed as if unable to bear the sight of Lorcan’s anger. Lorcan wished he didn’t find the sight so attractive. Lysander’s head was tipped back slightly in an unconscious gesture of submission. His hair fell over one eye in a messy blond fringe and his lips were parted, inviting Lorcan to kiss them. Damn it, Maribeth Coventry might have cast a spell over him, but Lysander had bewitched him first and foremost.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lorcan demanded again, pushing him more forcefully against the stone in an effort to fight the lust that threatened to take over.

“I told you! You would have killed her,” Lysander whispered.

Lorcan's jaw clenched. “You kept it from me in order to protect her?”

Lysander glared at him. “Of course not! I don’t give a split cauldron for her! I did it to protect you! What happens if you kill her and get sent to Azkaban?” Lysander shook his head angrily. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll die, that’s what.” Lysander’s fingers curled around Lorcan’s upper arms and dug in painfully. “I’ll die without you, Lorcan. They would have to take me, as well.”

Lorcan loosened his hold on Lysander’s jumper and let the fabric slide over his fingertips. He sighed heavily, unable to stand the sight of Lysander in pain, no matter what. “No one is going to Azkaban, Lysander,” he said dryly. Even as he said the words, he knew it was true. He couldn’t kill Maribeth. Merely thinking about her sent a rush of longing singing through his veins, desire that he had previously only known for Lysander. Renewed anger followed closely on the heels of the lust. It infuriated him that it was false, and yet it felt right. If he saw her, he would likely fall at her feet and beg forgiveness for being angry with her.

He had been in the dorm writing her a love letter, for fuck’s sake. Lorcan Scamander writing a love letter. The earth should have shuddered to a halt at the sheer wrongness of it.

“I’m going to get her, Lysander,” he said shortly, even though his heart clenched at the thought of hurting her. He closed his eyes against the image of her flawless skin, her beautiful hair, and her lovely lips. Lysander made a quiet sound and Lorcan realized his hands were once again clenched into tight fists and his knuckles pushed into his brother’s chest.

“We will!” Lysander assured him. “What do you think I’ve been doing, sitting on my arse? Do you honestly think I would let that Slytherin harlot take you away from me without a bloody fight?”

Lorcan smiled slowly and let his hands splay over Lysander’s chest, soothing the wounds he had inflicted. “No. No, of course you wouldn’t.”

“Damn right,” Lysander muttered.

Lorcan's hands glided lower, drifting over Lysander's pectorals and ribs. "So, darling brother. What is your wonderful plan?"

Lysander's breath hitched slightly as Lorcan's hands continued to move downward. "Well, I'm not completely certain, yet."

Lorcan's palms stilled. "You're not certain?"

"No. I mean, Albus sent me the book I needed and I was in the midst of cross-referencing it with the one from Timmy. I think I've found an antidote!"

Relief flooded Lorcan's senses and he slipped his hands around Lysander's waist to pull him closer. "Yeah?" He buried his face in Lysander's neck.

"Well, not found, exactly. More like we need to create it from scratch and sort of invent it ourselves..."

Lorcan's arms tightened.

"It can be done! This is an ancient book and a very old spell! We've learned loads about potions since then. The properties of green tourmaline were barely understood when it was written, and it's only been in the past decade that proper research has been done on dragon scales; and also, the primary ingredient in the potion she used is rhodochrosite, which you know can be countered with--"

Lorcan kissed him. It was foolish, doing so in the middle of the corridor in the middle of the day, but Lorcan could not help it. He felt suddenly happy, almost giddily so, listening to Lysander babble on in his usual manner. Despite everything, he knew that Lysander would remain constant, and even if he found himself foolishly, inconceivably in love with Maribeth Coventry, he would never stop loving Lysander.

Lorcan pulled back, delighted anew at the sight of Lysander with eyes glazed and utterly lacking in words. He smiled wickedly.

"Lorcan? What are you doing?"

His heart flew into his throat at the sound of her voice. He nearly leaped away from Lysander with a guilty jolt, but the hands still holding his arms stopped him. Lorcan's world tilted for a moment and then steadied.

"Maribeth," he said without turning around.