Word count: 2000+
Summary: “Apparently,” he said as they made their way out of the store, “I have a soft spot for spazzy Hufflepuffs.”
A/N: Panic! at the Disco goes to Hogwarts featuring a couple random band-persons, with no thought to age, because seriously. They aren't British, it doesn't make sense, and yet Jon Walker is awesome and Brendon makes the best Hufflepuff of all time. So there. Also, I had eckerlilas check this again, because she is super cool and also because I'm still worried about getting the boys right - so yay for Shonna!
Never Was A Badger So
Brendon sank down in his chair and muttered, “Spencer’s mean,” because Spencer was.
“I like Spencer,” Jon said, and Brendon shot back, “You would,” which made no sense, given that Jon was a Gryffindor and should be, like, Spencer’s mortal enemy or something. But whatever. Brendon was in a bad mood.
“I’m in a bad mood,” he said.
Jon nodded. “I can tell.”
Brendon did not usually have bad moods, but any bad moods he did have were inevitably brought about by Spencer, and the fact that Spencer was the best Beater Slytherin’d had in years and the fact that Spencer didn’t like him very much.
Brendon actually sort of sucked at Quidditch – although, seriously, it wasn’t his fault his pretty face and flying objects didn’t mix all that well - and also, Brendon actually sort of, deep down, thought Spencer was hot.
Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were not mortal enemies, but Slytherins generally thought Hufflepuffs were morons. Brendon wasn’t a moron. Brendon was and had always been totally okay with being a Hufflepuff. He’d chosen Hufflepuff, damn it. He’d wanted to champion the majestic badger! Badgers were totally underrated and cool.
He wasn’t particularly loyal, though, or patient. Well, he was loyal to Jon, because Jon was awesome, and he was loyal to Ryan, because Ryan put up with his shit and helped him with his history assignments and stuff, but he wasn’t, like, House loyal. And he was more hyper than steady and patient, but whatever. House bylines were way outdated anyway.
So, right. Brendon was a Hufflepuff. Spencer was very, very mean.
“Spencer doesn’t think you’re a moron,” Ryan said, glancing up from his Arithmancy text.
Ryan was best friends with Spencer. They were best friends because they were best friends before Hogwarts and because Ravenclaws and Slytherins were traditional butt-buddies in inter-House relations. Brendon overlooked that fault, since Ryan was, like, super pretty and knew big, pretentious words that helped him bullshit his way through a three foot scroll on the ninth Goblin Rebellion.
Brendon tapped inkblots onto his parchment, bending the point of his quill. “He called me a moron.”
“He thinks you’re, you know, annoying. And flakey.” Ryan shrugged. “I think the moron just came out by accident.”
“Spencer never says anything he doesn’t mean,” Brendon pointed out. He knew that about Spencer. Spencer never lied; he just strategically omitted the truth.
Ryan sighed, shoved his hair out of his eyes. “Look, you spilled juice all over—”
“He snuck up on me!” He’d totally scared the bejesus out of him, too. The juice spillage hadn’t been Brendon’s fault, and the subsequent falling off his bench backwards thing had been embarrassing but not note-worthy or anything. Spencer’d even caught him before he’d hit the floor.
“Anyway,” Ryan rolled his eyes, “he was just going to ask you to Hogsmeade.”
Brendon narrowed his eyes. “Is that code for bind me up naked in the Potions’ closet?”
“God, Brendon, that was one time, like, four years ago, and you had underwear on, so I don’t see—”
“A Hufflepuff never forgets,” Brendon said.
“Hufflepuffs carry massive, stupid grudges.” Ryan slammed his book shut, straightened his pile of notes and got to his feet. “Let me know when you’re done being an asshole.”
Jon absently watched Ryan stalk out of the library, then arched an eyebrow at Brendon. “You were kind of being an asshole.”
Brendon pouted. “You can’t take his side.” Jon had been his friend first. Jon had rescued him from Gabe and Travis that one time on the pitch two years before, and Brendon had claimed Jon as his very own forevermore.
“His side is filled with sound reason and logic,” Jon said, grinning. He spread his hands out on the table. “Your side requires more paranoia than I’m willing to scrounge up. Plus, you know, I like Spencer. Spencer’s cool.”
“You suck.” Of course, the thing of it was, Brendon liked Spencer, too.
Brendon hated Potions. Brendon hated Potions mainly because he kept spilling things and burning himself. He wasn’t bad at the subject, really, he just got distracted easily, and it didn’t help all that much that he shared the class with Slytherins.
“You’re like a magpie,” Spencer said, one step behind him on the way to the infirmary.
Brendon bit his lip. His arm really hurt, actually.
Spencer took hold of his elbow when he started up the stairs. “Brendon?”
“What?” His arm was starting to throb, and he’d been burned plenty of times, but he didn’t think they’d ever—
“You’re kind of pale.” Spencer pulled Brendon to a stop and grabbed his chin, frowning down at him from the step above. “Are you sure nothing from the cauldron got on you?”
“Um. No?” Spencer had the nicest eyes. Sort of... blue. And light. And they were shiny, like he was worried or something, which was kind of sweet.
Spencer shook him. “Brendon, this is important, okay? Did you spill anything on your burn?”
Brendon pushed out his lower lip. “My arm hurts.”
“We’ll say yes, then,” Spencer said, sort of put-upon, and Brendon let him tug him up the stairs twice as fast as they’d been moving before.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he said, and Spencer countered, “You never do,” without looking back.
Brendon was dizzy by the time they reached the hospital wing and Spencer, weirdly enough, stayed with him when Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue and hustled him into a bed and poured something noxious down his throat. He stayed even after Jon showed up.
Jon was Brendon’s favorite person ever.
“You are my most favorite person ever,” Brendon said to Jon. He squeezed his hand, only he was still holding Spencer’s hand, so he ended up squeezing Spencer’s hand instead of Jon’s. Brendon was, for the moment, feeling pretty good. Madam Pomfrey rocked.
Jon looked amused, mouth a small smile. “I like you, too.”
“No, I mean, you have a cat,” Brendon stressed, because this was, like, important stuff. Jon had a cat. Brendon was not-so-secretly in love with his cat. Jon also had his Apparating license already and was a registered Animagus, and was basically the awesomest guy Brendon knew.
Spencer laughed, short, and Brendon flashed him a big grin.
“Spencer,” he said. He liked the way his lips and tongue formed his name.
“Yeah.” Spencer nodded.
Brendon tugged on his hand, pulling him down to sit on the edge of the bed. “Spencer, Spencer Smith.”
“You’re drugged out of your mind,” Jon said dryly.
Spencer bent one leg up onto the mattress and cocked his head at Jon. “How’d you know we were here, anyway?”
Jon pressed a finger to the side of his nose. “I know all and see all. And,” he shrugged, “Patrick told me.”
Patrick was cool. Patrick was also proud to be a Hufflepuff. Plus, he practically lived in Pete Wentz’s pocket, and Pete Wentz was only marginally less awesome than Jon.
“All right, boys.” Madam Pomfrey flapped her hands at them. “Out. Go on. Leave Mr. Urie be for a while.”
Brendon sighed and Spencer spent a minute or so trying to extract his hand from his tight grip, and Jon waved, robes open and one hand tucked in a pants pocket. Brendon thought maybe he was a little in love with him.
“You’re a little in love with Jon, aren’t you?” Ryan asked. He swished and flicked and incanted and his canary spun into a perfect teapot. Ryan was great at Transfiguration.
Brendon grinned, brought his hand up to pinch his forefinger and thumb together. “Just a little. I’m more in love with his cat.” Brendon’s teapot looked like it swallowed a toad.
Ryan nodded. They were in agreement about the cat, since Dylan would play fetch and let them rub his tummy and always knew the best times to curl up on their laps.
“Well, Spencer likes you, so.” Ryan shrugged.
Brendon narrowed his eyes. “Spencer wants to throttle me.” He’d said so on several different occasions.
“Yeah, of course. But he clearly likes you, dude, so if you’d just go to Hogsmeade with him, that’d be great.”
Brendon opened his mouth to express how bad an idea that would be, but Ryan cut him off with, “I’m sure anything you say will be so beyond assholery that I just might stab you in the face with my wand, so just nod yes, okay?”
Brendon furrowed his brows, but nodded yes.
“Cool, now try this again,” Ryan said. “Your pot’s not supposed to croak at you.”
Hogsmeade with Spencer was surprisingly like any other trip to Hogsmeade, except Spencer let Brendon hold his hand. He’d grabbed it just to prove a point, because Ryan was so wrong, but Spencer had just arched an eyebrow at him and squeezed, and Brendon had been stuck to his side ever since.
Not that he was complaining. Spencer’s hand was dry and warm. Brendon liked holding his hand. He vaguely remembered latching onto him in the infirmary the other day, but this was better, more open, and Brendon grinned at Gabe when Gabe gave them a dirty look, and he swung their clasped hands a little, earning a tiny, amused snort from Spence.
They strolled past storefronts and messed around in Zonkos and Spencer had, like, this great laugh. He laughed with his whole body, and Brendon hadn’t noticed that before.
“You’re being awfully nice to me, Spencer,” Brendon said, plastered against the front counter of Honeydukes, gazing down at the little spun sugar bunnies. They were so cute.
Spencer smiled and bought him two. “Apparently,” he said as they made their way out of the store, “I have a soft spot for spazzy Hufflepuffs.”
Brendon mock-pouted. “I’m not a spaz.” He took the bunnies out of the paper bag and let them hop around his palm. “I’m playfully energetic.”
“Eat them before they melt,” Spencer said, and Brendon cupped his hands around the bunnies protectively, horrified.
“I’m not going to eat them.” Granules of sugar were already sloughing off onto his skin, though, a slightly sticky mess, and their hopping was rapidly winding down.
“They’re going to melt all over your fingers,” Spencer pointed out.
Brendon shrugged. “S’okay.” They had their noses pressed together in the center of his palm, and he ran a finger over their sloping heads. Wizarding candy was always so sad. He almost preferred the Muggle stuff his dad brought home.
Finally, when there wasn’t even the barest trace of little bunny breaths, he held one out to Spencer. “Here,” he said, and then popped the other one into his mouth, the sugar crunching apart and dissolving on his tongue. Orange.
“Thanks,” Spencer said, and he bit down on the bunny’s head with way too much enthusiasm.
Brendon wrinkled his nose. “Why am I here with you again?”
“Because Ryan made you,” Spencer said. He wasn’t exactly amused and he wasn’t exactly resigned, and his smirk looked almost rueful.
“No,” Brendon said slowly, slipping his hand back into Spencer’s. “No, I don’t think that’s it at all.”
“You’ve abandoned me,” Jon said, dropping down into the seat across from Brendon. “You’ve abandoned me for Spencer and I’m sad.”
Brendon shook his head. “I’ll never abandon you, Jon Walker. For you are my destiny.”
“What am I, then?” Spencer asked, head cocked. His eyes were smiling.
“You’ll walk beside me on my life’s journey,” Brendon said grandly, “and Ryan will be our saving grace.”
Spencer bit his lip. “You mean Ryan’ll help you pass your NEWTs.”
“Same thing,” he said, grinning. Ryan was pretty good at perspectives, though, and telling Brendon to shut up and just go with it.
Glancing around, Brendon spotted Ryan across the library, Pete hanging all over his shoulders and Patrick looking adorably sullen in the opposite seat. “Come on.” He flipped his Potions book shut. “Let’s go rescue Ryan from Pete.”
“Rescue probably isn’t the word I’d use for that,” Jon said, climbing to his feet.
“So we’ll rescue him from Patrick,” Brendon amended, shrugging.
Jon laughed. “Right, okay, yeah.”