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Lester Roach

worn down these knuckles too far

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Lester Roach

Les had taken Mr. Wilson's advice to heart. 

 

If he ever wanted to become a proper pianist, Lester needed to dedicate himself. He needed to put in the hours of practice and he needed to take better care of his hands. The Slytherin sighed as he raised his hands up to eye level, stretching his fingers out in front of him and flexing them. Flipping them back and forth, staring at his palms and then back at his knuckles...

 

His knuckles. 

 

Lester knew this meant he would have to give up a few of his favorite things, like punching.

 

Punching Rad. 

 

He dropped his arms and scanned the library and found his friend somewhere among the mess of books and tables, he hovered quietly beside him, the severity of what he was about to do and say suddenly weighing down on his shoulders. Les cleared his throat to announce his presence, "Erm, Rad.. We need to talk.

Edited by Lester Roach

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Radueriel Benson

There were only a few places in the castle truly safe from Lester Roach. During his first weeks at Hogwarts, when the two Slytherins spent the most time together thanks to the taller boy’s frank obsession, Rad had done his best to find the nooks and crannies undiscovered by the brutish eleven-year-old. The largest of them, by far, was the library. It seemed like Les was allergic to books. That was why he was constantly copying Rad’s notes, right?

 

So whenever he wanted, peace and quiet, to, you know, actually study— since they were, after all, at school, and Radueriel was as devoted as ever to his flashcard system— he set up shop in the library.

 

Except that a telltale shadow falling across the lavender card on which he was jotting down Charms incantations, and the clearing of a throat, suggested that the peace was going to be shattered, and the quiet was quickly going away. “Lester,” Rad said, looking up, up, up, into the face of his once-least-favorite person at Hogwarts. That usual smirking face was contorted into a different, stranger emotion today, one which he couldn’t place.

 

Talking was not something the two of them did very often, and he didn’t really know what to do with this. But at least he wasn’t being punched or subjected to another sort of bodily harm. He could ride this wave out for now. “Okay. Do you, uh, wanna sit?”

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Lester Roach

"Uh... n-no not here. Too public. Lets go--over there." he muttered, tilting his head towards the back corner of the room. He figured that somewhere among the vast expanse littered with ceiling high bookshelves there was bound to be a safe space devoid of onlookers... Seriously, people who hung out in the library gave him a queasy feeling and they tended to have beady little eyes and pale skin. He momentarily forgot about his dilemma as he concocted a theory about the current residents of the library. 

 

VAMPIRES. The whole lot of them.

 

His brows creased as he inspected Rad for any signs or manifestation that he might be part of the living dead. He would know if his best friend was a vampire, right? Les would have to keep a closer eye on Rad's eating habits, did he have any aversion to garlic? Eat a lot of blood pops? 

 

He consciously wrapped his hand around his neck and and massaged it, hoping that his roommate wouldn't take advantage of him at such a delicate time. Lester stalked off until he found a secluded area and turned to face the smaller boy once he settled up against a shelf. "I've just got to get this out. I was talking to Mr. Wilson, my piano instructor, and anyway... w-wait before that I get to that... Are you a vampire?" 

Edited by Lester Roach

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Radueriel Benson

Normally, Lester just dragged Rad wherever he wanted the tiny boy to be. The fact that this time he asked, and in such a nervous and atypically self-doubting tone, gave Rad pause. What the heck was going on? Sure, their “friendship”  got weird when he turned the tables and punched back near the end of last year, but things settled once again after the chaotic carriage ride at the beginning of last term. This couldn’t have anything to do with all that, could it?

 

Honestly, when it came to Roach, anything was fair game.

 

It was now the second term of their second year. They’d known each other for the better part of eighteen months, and yet the brawny boy remained every much as a mystery— an irritating, punchy mystery— as he was the day the two sat down in the same train carriage what felt like absolute ages ago. His curiosity was piqued. Rad wanted to know what was going on.


The question, however, about vampires took him completely by surprise. “What?” he asked, mouth staggering open, eyes wide. Where did that…? Why did he…? What the hell, Roach? That this wild inquiry was apparently not even the main focus of his fellow Slytherin’s strange behavior made the whole thing ten times stranger and a little worse to him. “No. Uh, last time I checked, I’m not dead.” Not that he really made a frequent habit of checking...

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Lester Roach

It wasn't that he didn't trust Radueriel, it was more so the fact that Lester was the sort to need proof--to see or feel things in order to fully believe in something. Even if the question came completely out of the left field leaving his friend looking perplexed, gaping mouth and all (a mess of crooked teeth, but none distinguishably vampiric from his standpoint), the pallid faced Slytherin was still capable of lying. "Hmmm..." he hummed, unconvinced by the answer. "Then you won't mind me checking." he stated, reaching out without pause and grabbing the boy by the forearm. 

 

It was lacking in pigmentation as much as the rest of his body, alabaster and noticeably soft as he traced his index and middle down towards the wrist. He quickly rested his digits on top of where a pulse point would be located on a human being and waited for a few seconds until he felt it. The steady beat coming through... ba-dum......ba-dum.....ba-dum. 

 

Relieved and satisfied, he dropped the arm and shrugged. 

 

"Alright. I believe you." he waved his hand as to dismiss the current topic and move onto more important things. "So, Mr. Wilson was taking a look at my hands over the break. They were a bit trashed after we were playing around-" after Lester had been using Radueriel as a punching bag. "-bruised and whatnot... and he said that if I wanted to be a proper pianist, I needed to take care of my hands." he sighed mournfully. 

 

"I can't punch you any more." he stated, a pained expression cemented on his face. It almost felt as though he was calling off their friendship all together. 

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Radueriel Benson

Before the tiny Slytherin knew what was happening, Lester Roach reached for him; Rad flinched, but instead of the dull ache signifying a fist landing on his flesh, he felt warm fingers on his arm. His breath froze in his throat, stopped up like a crack in the wall plastered with putty, and he watched, transfixed, Lester gently trace down his arm until he arrived at his wrist.

 

Lester. Gently. Two words he felt would never find themselves bedfellows in the same sentence.

 

A shiver ran its way through the body of the small boy; his whole consciousness, it seemed, rested at that point where his hand met his arm, where through some strange coincidence of anatomy the proof his his vivacity could be found and felt by the curious.

 

Then Lester let go, and once again Radueriel Benson returned to his senses. This was, after all, Roach they were talking about. Repugnant, mean Roach, good for nothing but making him miserable and sore. Even Voldemort, he was certain, had to have been prone to a moment of tenderness or two.

 

“Glad that we’ve, uh,” he cleared his throat, “sorted that out.” He’d much prefer the hitting, honestly, to whatever this uncomfortable breach of their clearly defined relationship up to this point was. But alas, it seemed that the universe was always determined to deny Rad what he wanted. If it weren’t for the contents of his stomach still jumbling about, he would have found the absurdity of what Lester said combined with the grave look of solemnity painted across his face to be so funny that his sides would split.


Lester Roach. No longer able to punch him. And yet he may as well have just announced the Queen’s passing, he looked so sad— and looked, in fact, quite fearful that Rad might be sad, too! Never mind the fact that he’d actually just said ‘proper pianist’ like that was a phrase normal people used, regardless of what it sounded like. “That’s, um, that’s really okay.”

 

This felt like a dream, like warm melted glass had drenched over the scene so that everything was happening a millisecond too slowly to be real. Rad rubbed his wrist, where his pulse beat quietly on.

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