There was a tiredness in his bones that normally wasn’t there; it seeped into the crevices he didn’t know existed and blurred the edges of his mind until there was nothing more he wanted to do than close his eyes and sleep. He’d fought it at first, frightened that the darkness that sometimes sung a lullaby would entice him into a sleep he wouldn’t want to wake up from - sometimes, Gus found, his dreams were more comforting than reality. It wasn’t until someone had asked if he was sick that it clicked in his head that the tiredness was just that and nothing more, and when he finally sank into his bed to allow himself to sleep, he slept through all of Friday and most of Saturday, not bothering to claw his way to consciousness outside of a few moments to ensure that he could, that the darkness wasn’t keeping him hostage like it had done once before.
When he finally awoke, prying his left eye open and then the right, the tiredness was replaced with nothing but grogginess. He ate, he showered and made himself feel human again before he pulled on his robe complete with a Hufflepuff scarf that had seen better days, because he absolutely had to get outside before he went insane. Gus had grown up outside with the grass between his toes and the sea breeze against his face, and even as he moved from Ireland to Hogsmeade and Hogsmeade to hop around the world, there wasn’t much time he willingly spent inside. Being inside was stifling and he felt the walls closed in each moment; outside he was free. His body and mind were in agreement that he’d feel better once he had some fresh air in his lungs.
The September air was much cooler than he expected it to be and Gus shivered as he burrowed his face into his scarf; the yellow and grey colors were faded from years of use, as he’d gotten it his first week as a first year. Over the years it had turned from a scarf to a makeshift pillow - one more for mental comfort because it was a reminder of home - and there were few times it wasn’t balled up near his head while he was off curse breaking. It had survived with him and much like Gus it had earned its fair share of scars: the ends were frayed, some much longer than others, and there was a hole burnt into it that he often hid by wrapping it around his neck. The fabric was thin in places from a nervous gesture of rubbing the cotton between his fingers when he wasn’t sure what to say or do. The emblem sewn near the bottom was bright and new, as his mum sewed a new one each year as Gus declined a new scarf altogether. This was one of the only consistency in his life.
Habits were hard to break for Gus, and here at Hogwarts he was still unable to part with it, although here it was used as both a scarf and a pillow. He grabbed it each morning before he stepped foot outside of his room, even if it was too hot to wear it. Now, as he grumbled quietly under his breath at the cold, he was happy to have it wrapped around his neck. If he thought it wouldn’t burst into flames he would have charmed it with a heating spell. The fresh air felt nice though and Gus finally felt like his head wasn't stuffed with cotton. He hated being sick.
His feet dragged him in any direction although he steered clear of the Quidditch pitches as he wasn’t in the mood to converse with people; he wasn’t surprised then, to find himself on the path to their spot. It was comforting in ways it shouldn’t be and haunting in ways Gus knew he deserved; he'd forced decisions and ruined their friendship by saying he was in love. He was declared an abomination, something unnatural here, and part of Gus wanted to believe it was try. (Probably because in some fashion he was both.) At least he could sit with his feet dangling over the cliff’s edge while he recharged himself for another month of being at Hogwarts, another month of wondering if he’d made a grave mistake being here. But he’d missed a lot in his life already and was hellbent on being around so he wouldn't miss a moment longer - hell, he had a living, breathing nephew who was already five he’d just met last month, and if that was being out of the loop, Gus wasn’t sure what was.
The crunch of sticks ahead of him caused the redhead to glance up, and he couldn’t help but frown as he spotted Basil Foxwood ahead of him. Gus wondered what had brought him to their spot, and as he moved closer, wondered what had brought him to their spot looking like that. The smell of smoke hit him before he saw the cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers and Gus wrinkled his nose from the smell alone, although the rest of him was in a disheveled state he rarely saw Foxwood in. He paused in his steps, wondering if he should leave before the man spotted him but there was something in his gut telling him not to leave him alone, not like this.
Instead the cool September air filled his lungs as he sucked in a deep breath of air before he stepped forward, the scarf unwinding from his neck as he approached the brunette. “It’s too cold out to be dressed like that.” Gus finally whispered as he stopped in front of him, his fingers fiddling with the fabric between his fingers. He reached out to wrap the frayed scarf over the Ravenclaw one, as if it would suddenly make him warm - the warming charm suddenly became a necessity in his life. Next time.
Of course the scarf was much more - it was his life line when things got tough and he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to withstand them. A reminder that no matter how many people come and go from his life, it was comforting having something there that held so many memories to remind him that good was still out there. He just hoped that Foxwood would feel as much comfort from it as he did.
His fingers dropped away from the fabric as he offered the man a soft smile. He had many questions, much of which revolved around what in the world he’d just walked upon, but he could see from the look in his eyes that this wasn’t the time to ask him. So instead Gus gently took his hand and pulled him a few steps back away from the cliff’s edge.
When he finally awoke, prying his left eye open and then the right, the tiredness was replaced with nothing but grogginess. He ate, he showered and made himself feel human again before he pulled on his robe complete with a Hufflepuff scarf that had seen better days, because he absolutely had to get outside before he went insane. Gus had grown up outside with the grass between his toes and the sea breeze against his face, and even as he moved from Ireland to Hogsmeade and Hogsmeade to hop around the world, there wasn’t much time he willingly spent inside. Being inside was stifling and he felt the walls closed in each moment; outside he was free. His body and mind were in agreement that he’d feel better once he had some fresh air in his lungs.
The September air was much cooler than he expected it to be and Gus shivered as he burrowed his face into his scarf; the yellow and grey colors were faded from years of use, as he’d gotten it his first week as a first year. Over the years it had turned from a scarf to a makeshift pillow - one more for mental comfort because it was a reminder of home - and there were few times it wasn’t balled up near his head while he was off curse breaking. It had survived with him and much like Gus it had earned its fair share of scars: the ends were frayed, some much longer than others, and there was a hole burnt into it that he often hid by wrapping it around his neck. The fabric was thin in places from a nervous gesture of rubbing the cotton between his fingers when he wasn’t sure what to say or do. The emblem sewn near the bottom was bright and new, as his mum sewed a new one each year as Gus declined a new scarf altogether. This was one of the only consistency in his life.
Habits were hard to break for Gus, and here at Hogwarts he was still unable to part with it, although here it was used as both a scarf and a pillow. He grabbed it each morning before he stepped foot outside of his room, even if it was too hot to wear it. Now, as he grumbled quietly under his breath at the cold, he was happy to have it wrapped around his neck. If he thought it wouldn’t burst into flames he would have charmed it with a heating spell. The fresh air felt nice though and Gus finally felt like his head wasn't stuffed with cotton. He hated being sick.
His feet dragged him in any direction although he steered clear of the Quidditch pitches as he wasn’t in the mood to converse with people; he wasn’t surprised then, to find himself on the path to their spot. It was comforting in ways it shouldn’t be and haunting in ways Gus knew he deserved; he'd forced decisions and ruined their friendship by saying he was in love. He was declared an abomination, something unnatural here, and part of Gus wanted to believe it was try. (Probably because in some fashion he was both.) At least he could sit with his feet dangling over the cliff’s edge while he recharged himself for another month of being at Hogwarts, another month of wondering if he’d made a grave mistake being here. But he’d missed a lot in his life already and was hellbent on being around so he wouldn't miss a moment longer - hell, he had a living, breathing nephew who was already five he’d just met last month, and if that was being out of the loop, Gus wasn’t sure what was.
The crunch of sticks ahead of him caused the redhead to glance up, and he couldn’t help but frown as he spotted Basil Foxwood ahead of him. Gus wondered what had brought him to their spot, and as he moved closer, wondered what had brought him to their spot looking like that. The smell of smoke hit him before he saw the cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers and Gus wrinkled his nose from the smell alone, although the rest of him was in a disheveled state he rarely saw Foxwood in. He paused in his steps, wondering if he should leave before the man spotted him but there was something in his gut telling him not to leave him alone, not like this.
Instead the cool September air filled his lungs as he sucked in a deep breath of air before he stepped forward, the scarf unwinding from his neck as he approached the brunette. “It’s too cold out to be dressed like that.” Gus finally whispered as he stopped in front of him, his fingers fiddling with the fabric between his fingers. He reached out to wrap the frayed scarf over the Ravenclaw one, as if it would suddenly make him warm - the warming charm suddenly became a necessity in his life. Next time.
Of course the scarf was much more - it was his life line when things got tough and he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to withstand them. A reminder that no matter how many people come and go from his life, it was comforting having something there that held so many memories to remind him that good was still out there. He just hoped that Foxwood would feel as much comfort from it as he did.
His fingers dropped away from the fabric as he offered the man a soft smile. He had many questions, much of which revolved around what in the world he’d just walked upon, but he could see from the look in his eyes that this wasn’t the time to ask him. So instead Gus gently took his hand and pulled him a few steps back away from the cliff’s edge.
![[Image: UkiVTG8.png]](https://i.imgur.com/UkiVTG8.png)