Higgystar

He lies there, in his bunk, alone in the dorm and thinking for hours on end. It’s difficult, thank god the castle is empty enough for the holidays, it means he won’t be rudely interrupted by anyone. He can muse here, sit and think without the worry of someone overhearing his thoughts. 

It’s Edward on his mind. It’s always been Edward on his mind. His friend. His first real friend. His first friend was a muggleborn. Someone he’d been told his whole life was unworthy of his attention, was now his best friend. 

The irony of the situation was no lost on him, but he didn’t appreciate the humour of it all. Edward was bright, not just a little bright but very bright, and funny, and kind and so much more fun and comfortable to be around than anyone else in this school. He liked Eddie and not just because he was the forbidden fruit. 

It was just a difficult choice to make so he tried to hide it. Tried to have his cake and eat it too. Hang out with his brothers in the common room, hide away in here and cheer with them, badmouth the mudbloods, talk about how great the world will be when they’re gone and purebloods such as themselves rule the wizarding world again. It tastes bitter in his mouth every time he says the word, flashes of Eddie go past in his mind’s eye whenever he dares to believe for a second that they were right. 

It comes and goes in flashes this need to hide from the world. He smiles with Eddie in the hallways, pairs with him in shared classes and then hides in the common room and nods along with the others’ mockery of him. He sometimes pretends that he’s doing this for the greater good, to keep everything as it should be. But really he knows he’s just hiding scared. 

A real man would make a choice, a real man would be able to find a side and have the guts to stick to it. Wouldn’t hide behind a charade of lies just to keep a friend in the dark about how uncertain he was about taking a step away from the security of family. Though he did think he was making some progress. 

After all he’d neglected to return home for Christmas in order to stay here with Eddie. That was a good sign, right?

Oswald above all else is a business man, he knows how to make money, what will sell and what won’t but he’s never ever expected this to happen. Once a month or so he’ll have an auction of some of his little birdies, nothing too dirty, the girls are only contracted for the date and can take the night as far as they want, but it’s usually an easy way to make some money and to keep the girls feeling good about themselves. 

They’ll play it up on the auction block, smiling, flirting and showing off their ‘wares’ whether they be male or female. When he’d decided on using the next auction as a humiliation punishment for Edward still owing him money, he’d not anticipated what had happened. 

“I’m on $2,000 from the lady in the red, do I hear $2,500?” He calls out, watching as Edward doesn’t flush red in shame but rather flaunts himself like a common streetwalker. Edward is on the auction block, jacket draped over one shoulder, tie undone casually and cane spinning in his free hand. He looks like the cockiest shit on the planet and the crowd were loving it. “$2,500 from the gentleman with the bad toupee.”

Edward grins, waving to his admirers, spinning around to show off his behind in tight fitting trousers. Oswald can’t help but roll his eyes as he starts cooing to the ladies in the front row, blowing kisses, hooking them around the wrist by his cane and kissing the back of their hands. It’s pathetic, but it is erasing the debt quickly. 

“$3,000 from the back, $3,500 from the gent in the tophat, $4,000 from - Harley you haven’t got $4,000 put down the paddle! $4,000 from the blonde lady, $4,500 from - Eddie you can’t bid for yourself…”

Jonathan runs one final check over their security systems as he returns home, making sure to lock every door, reset every alarm and check again twice over. He stows the groceries in the kitchen, heading upstairs to find Edward slumped over the side of the crib fast asleep. 

Heading over he strokes over his shoulders, waking him up since he knows he won’t appreciate staying in that position all night. Edward startles awake, glancing down into the crib and to check on their son. “He’s fine.” Jonathan reassures, pressing a kiss to the back of his head as their son squirms. “Everything’s fine.”

He’s small, only a week old and still not big enough to fill out a newborn sized romper suit, the mittens attached to the sleeves hang far over his hands. Edward nods, stroking over the baby’s cheek, sighing as their son squirms and wriggles in his sleep. “For now.”

Nodding Jonathan wraps his arms around him from behind, watching their son blink up at them with no sense of the danger that lurks around him. He’s nothing but a target. A very vulnerable target. “Yeah.” Jonathan agrees, watching as the tiny baby gurgles, finding his tongue for the first time and poking it just outside of his lips, mouthing at air in wonder. “For now.”

It’s a wonderfully lazy evening for the pair of them. Eddie had recently robbed a bank so money was no issue, Jonathan had been successful in his testing lately so he was satisfied, and Batman was too busy saving people from a tower block fire to be of any threat. 

Together they lay on the couch, tangled together, limbs everywhere as they just relax. Edward is on some kind of games console, muttering under his breath about everything reminding a certain character of a puzzle. He’s lying on Jonathan’s chest, his head being used as a bookrest for Jonathan as his partner reads through his latest purchase. 

They don’t need to talk, sometimes just sitting in silence with each other can be nice. Legs tangled together, Jonathan’s foot running up Edward’s calf and a wonderful evening of complete calm and relaxation. It’s wonderful compared to the usual chaos of their evenings. 

“I look like a madman when I’m talking to you.” Bruce grumbles, flicking on his Detective vision to try and see exactly how many thugs were lurking behind the wall in Joker’s hideout. 

“Don’t kid yourself, you fly around town in a Batsuit. You constantly look like a madman. Besides, it’s not like I can help it that only you can see me.” Jonathan shrugs, still in his costume from the party, the spatter of a smashed pumpkin never fading from the back of his head. “I don’t know how it works but you should be grateful I’m trying to help you rather than haunt you.”

Bruce sighs, peering through the walls and finding that some of the thugs are too far away to get a good reading on them. All he’s picking up are heat signatures and scrambled conversations but no exact number. “I do appreciate it Jonathan, really.” The teenage boy isn’t exactly very threatening as a ghost, thin, lanky with a scruffy hair do and gaunt features. Most ghosts had a horrific death to use as their story, Jonathan’s was more heartbreaking. Killed by a massive brain haemorrhage, caused by sudden impact to the back of the head. Now here he was, stuck in the afterlife and intent on getting revenge on as many bullies as possible. “Now could you go and find out how many there are?”

The boy smirks, nodding and Bruce can see that he’s glad to be of help. Probably glad to even be appreciated judging by the tales he’s told of his childhood. Jonathan walks through the wall without any flinch, as if it’s not even there. It’s only a few moments until he’s back smiling a little as he gives his answer. “Thirty six. Wish I could help more but…” He trails off, feebly punching through Bruce’s chest with a shrug. 

“You’ve done plenty.”