Chapter Seven:
Come A Little Bit Closer

✶

Friday,
November 11th,
1977.

     Archer didn't play Quidditch. If he tried to, he had no doubt that he would fall off the broom within the first minute... He was graceful like that.

Dhruv, on the other hand, was insanely good—even Archer, who had little to no knowledge of the game, could spot the talent as clear as day. This year, Dhruv had been given the position of Quidditch Captain for Ravenclaw's team. The team had been training constantly—Archer would know, for most of the time one could find him sitting in the stands with a book in hand, sending encouraging waves in Dhruv's direction whenever he flew by—and there was no doubt they were ready for the first match of the season: Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw.

In their dormitory, Archer and Dhruv were getting ready for the match which would take place later that afternoon. They had a few classes between now and then, sure, but they both knew that no learning would come out of them. The first match of the season always brought about an excited buzz that circulated through both the students and the staff.

Trying to pull his socks on, Archer glanced over at Dhruv, who was standing in front of the mirror on the other side of the dormitory. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

Dhruv hesitated, making eye contact with Archer through the mirror. "Fine, I think..."

"Yeah?" Archer didn't buy it.

"I mean, sure, the entire team is counting on me, and yeah, if we lose, we could be the laughing stock of the school, but..." Dhruv swivelled around, his creased eyebrows and unsteady voice revealing how worried he actually was about the match. He bit his lip. "It'll be fine, right?"

Archer might not understand Quidditch, but he knew how important this was to Dhruv. He smiled reassuringly, and said, "You're going to do great. Trust me. The team has been training so hard, it's bound to pay off."

"I'd just hate to let everyone down," Dhruv said, letting out a long sigh.

"You won't, okay? Trust me."

Dhruv smiled at him. As though a switch had been flipped in Dhruv's brain, his eyes suddenly lit up and his features were overcome with determination. He abruptly jumped up onto his four-poster bed, his hand reaching out to grab ahold of the nearest column and using it to stabilise himself. "And Haldar takes the quaffle, he's in the lead, dodging those lousy Gryffindors!" Dhruv pretended to commentate, grinning to himself. His arms stretched out, moving wildly with his imagination. "He's almost there, almost... aaaand he scores! The crowd goes wild!" He imitated the roaring of a crowd before flopping onto his bed and laughing.

Archer couldn't help but laugh with him.

He had seen the amount of hours Dhruv had put into strategy and how hard he had worked as team captain to ensure the team functioned well together, and so there was not a doubt in his mind that they'd perform well. If they lost, he knew Dhruv would be gutted, but Archer would be proud of him nonetheless.

However, as the day went on, a dark and ominous cloud settled over the grounds and rain began to drizzle down. Archer started to get a bad feeling in his gut, and by the time the match rolled around in the late afternoon, he was the one worrying. It didn't matter how good one was at Quidditch, poor weather conditions had the dreadful ability to cause chaos for anyone—from slippery brooms to making it harder to see where one was going, it was a recipe for disaster.

"Be careful out there, alright?" Archer said to Dhruv as they walked down to the pitch surrounded by the rest of the student body. They were both wearing their raincoats, with Dhruv wearing his Quidditch uniform underneath and Archer wearing trousers and a navy wool knit jumper. The rain was torrential at this point, with the ground quickly becoming mud. It had Archer wishing he wore his wellies, no matter how silly it would've looked with his outfit, because he could feel the water start to seep through his shoes and into his socks. He internally squirmed.

Dhruv glanced over at him through the rain, a teasing smirk on his lips. The worries he had been feeling that morning had long since disappeared—that, or he was pretending to be confident... Archer couldn't tell. (Fake it until you make it, right?) "Don't tell me my anxiety rubbed off onto you!"

Archer laughed in an attempt to mask his apprehension. "Not at all." He paused, then added, "I know you'll be great."

They had reached the undercover area of the pitch, and it was time for them to go their separate ways, but they stopped first. The mass of people moved around them. It was almost time for the match to begin. Dhruv said, "We've played in conditions worse than this. It'll be fine—it's not like I'm preparing for war. Though, by the looks of it, they are..." He laughed to himself, nodding to a group of rowdy Gryffindors from the year below as they walked past them.

Archer managed to crack a smile. He said, "Good luck, and I'll see you after."

Finally separating, Dhruv went to brief the team one last time before the match, and Archer headed up to find a spot on the bleachers with the other Ravenclaw supporters. The bleachers were very crowded, and Archer had to push his way through the mass of people to find an available spot to stand. Finally, he found one.

He wasn't cold—a simple spell had taken care of that—but the action of hugging his raincoat tighter to him was more of a comfort thing than anything. The rain was still pouring and the wind had started to pick up, and if Archer didn't know any better he would've thought that they might cancel the match... but, he did know better. If going to every single one of Dhruv's matches and training sessions had taught him anything, it was that they never cancelled Quidditch.

Looking around him, he was startled to see that Heather Finch was standing right next to him on his left, sporting blue in support of Ravenclaw. Archer wasn't surprised. What Slytherin would ever show their support for Gryffindor? At least, Archer had never seen it happen before. Although they had gone to school together for seven years now, Archer and Heather did not have much to do with each other, aside from the Defence Against the Dark Arts class they now shared.

Heather looked a little lonely as she stood there—much like himself, he supposed—but Archer didn't make any moves to initiate a conversation with her. What would he even say? He could hardly even look at her without remembering the loving way Dhruv had spoken about her, and Archer didn't think it would be appropriate to tell her that.

"Welcome, everyone, to the first match of the season: Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw!"

Archer's attention was diverted away from Heather and to the upcoming match as Riley Martinez's voice sounded above the crowd. Despite the bad weather, Riley sounded enthusiastic and upbeat as she began to commentate.

"Ravenclaw Captain, Dhruv Halder—" Heather let out a shriek of support, startling Archer for a moment, so much so that he missed Riley announcing the name of the Gryffindor Captain, "—join together in the centre of the pitch to shake hands before we kick off the first match of the season!"

Before long, the whistle blew and the quaffle was released. The game had begun.

Archer found himself extremely thankful for Riley's commentary. The rain was still pouring down, and Archer had to squint his eyes to see, but even then he could only just make out what was happening. Dare he say it, he was almost grateful that it was hard to see. Although he would love to watch Dhruv in his first match as team captain, Sirius Black was on the opposing team, and Archer didn't trust himself not to watch Sirius instead.

They had not spoken to one another in almost two weeks. True to his word, Sirius had left Archer alone. Last week in detention, he hadn't spoken to him at all—the two boys didn't utter a word to each other the entirety of the detention. Not even a hello or a goodbye. Truth be told... Archer missed Sirius' attempts at getting him to talk, at starting a conversation. And that scared him a little, because if he was ready to admit to that... Did this mean he wanted Sirius back in his life? Archer didn't know how he felt about that.

Riley's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"Gryffindor chaser—erm, Albert McMahon, I think—seizes the quaffle, diving down and around Ravenclaw's chasers," Riley said. It was clear she was also having trouble seeing through the rain. "McMahon goes to score, and—and keeper Zoe Clemmens catches it! Clemmens passes the quaffle off to Ravenclaw Captain Dhruv Haldar, who immediately takes off to the other side of the pitch. Wow, he's so fast—step aside, The Flash, you've got some competition!"

Archer made a mental note to tell Dhruv about the muggle reference—he knew Dhruv would appreciate it. Next to him, he heard a confused Heather mutter, "What?"

"Haldar scores! Ten points to Ravenclaw!"

He leapt to his feet, trying to ignore the feeling of the rain on his face for the sake of his best friend, and yelled, "Yeah, Dhruv!"

The match continued for a bit longer before disaster struck.

Archer wasn't sure what happened first. Perhaps it was the weather, a gust of wind so strong it almost sent several players flying off their brooms. Maybe it was the bludger that hurtled in Dhruv's direction, sent by a third-year Gryffindor beater. It could've been the distraction of a Gryffindor chaser intercepting Dhruv's throw of the quaffle. Or perhaps it was a combination of all three, for when the bludger came charging in Dhruv's direction he did not see it coming before it was too late.

He could hear Heather gasp out in horror next to him, instinctively reaching out and grabbing his arm in panic, but he hardly even noticed. Looking through the rain, Archer could see the scene above him with a new sort of clarity, his eyes so clearly focused on Dhruv. He had to remind himself to breathe.

The force knocked Dhruv off his broom, sending him colliding into—of all people!—Sirius Black, knocking him off his broom as well. The match continued above them but Archer paid it no attention, his heart hammering in his chest, too focused on Dhruv and Sirius because at this point they were falling. It all happened so fast, a mess of red and blue streaks plummeting to the ground until... until they collided with it.

Fuck.

As he watched the matron, Madam Pomfrey, levitate the unconscious bodies of Dhruv and Sirius off the pitch, his mind was a mix of an optimistic I hope they're alright and a desperate they have to be alright...

He didn't know what he would do if they weren't.

✶

Wednesday,
July 27th,
1977.

     Archer had a disheartened expression on his face as he trudged up the steep hill, studying the green grass beneath his moving feet like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. He had reason to feel this way, he thought, for his record player—his prized possession—had broken that morning.

The day had started off normal: Harvey had gone off to work as Archer had finished eating his breakfast. Then, he decided he would try to clean his room—without magic. And listen, he could lie and say that it was because he wanted to be able to not have to rely on magic all the time, but the truth was... he had forgotten that he could legally do magic outside of school now. Whoops? In his defence, it took time to adjust!

All was going well, until it wasn't. He had tried to move the table under his record player and it had tipped, with the record player falling, falling, falling to the ground with a heartbreaking smash.

Sirius had arrived not too long after that. He had tried to help, but the reparo charm could only be used on objects that you had at least a basic understanding of how it worked. And since neither of them knew how exactly a record player worked—Muggle objects were rather baffling!—neither of them were able to fix it, resulting in a dejected Archer and a concerned Sirius.

"C'mon, Arch! You're taking forever!"

"It's a steep hill, Sirius!"

Archer glanced up to see how far he had to go, his hand raised to block out the blinding sun. Just a little further, he told himself. He smiled lightly as he watched Sirius settle himself down on the grass up ahead.

After the incident with the record player, Sirius had decided that the two of them would spend the day lounging around and doing nothing of consequence. First up, apparently, was cloud-gazing. Now, Archer was quite partial to star-gazing, but he didn't mind. If it was Sirius he was doing it with, then he would do it ten times over just to be with him.

Finally reaching the top of the hill, he looked out and was quick to notice his house standing there in all its glory, its distinct hedged fence and large oak tree standing out boldly. Beyond the small town's flat topography, he could just make out the large buildings and highrises of London. It was a pretty view.

Sirius noticed him simply standing there and, with a twinkle in his eye, playfully started to sing, "Come a little bit closer, you're my kind of man..." He winked at Archer, and the brunet couldn't help but laugh—he had to admit that he felt better already. "So big and so strong!"

Mildly amused, Archer laid down on the ground next to Sirius. He could hear the rustle of the grass and he felt it tickle his neck and ankles.

It was a sunny day, but for a few minutes the sun hid behind the clouds and its brightness was dulled. Now, at least, it was easier to look past the sun's glare without straining one's eyes. Relaxing into the grass, Archer turned his head to look at Sirius, and could feel himself calm down and his worries float away.

Archer would admit that the situation with the record player probably wasn't that big of a deal, really. He could easily be able to get a new one. However, his old one—the one that had just broken—had sentimental value, and that couldn't just be replaced in his heart. Harvey had bought it for him a few days after his parents had split and dumped twelve-year-old Archer at Harvey's door.

Despite this, Archer never had reason to feel unwanted—although unprepared to handle a child, Harvey had welcomed him with open arms, sat him down at the kitchen table and asked him if he wanted to watch a movie and eat ice-cream together, to which young Archer had asked what in Merlin's name a movie was. With his mother and father, both stuck-up purebloods, he had never done any of that—as his mother had put it—"trivial nonsense," but with Harvey he had the freedom to try and do anything... And so, when twelve-year-old Archer had been asked what his favourite music was, and he replied with Celestina Warbeck, Harvey's eyes had immediately brightened because Yes! He's a romance lover! and Oh, Archer, you'd totally love Elvis Presley!

And thus the love for Elvis had been born.

"This is nice," Archer said, staring up into the clouds.

Sirius hummed in agreement next to him. He pointed toward the sky. "That one looks like a niffler," he said.

"What? No, it doesn't!" Archer laughed. "That one is clearly a rat. See the tail?"

"Well, it was a niffler." Sirius almost seemed offended. "The clouds moved!"

Archer shrugged. "If you say so."

"I do say so," Sirius grumbled, but they both knew it was half-hearted.

As Archer laid there, basking in the warmth of the sun and the ease of their conversation, the topic of his record player had slipped away from his mind without him noticing. They laid there for a while, a comfortable silence overtaking them. Archer let his mind wander. He thought about how green and lush the grass underneath him was, despite being in the heat of summer—the packet of Drooble's sitting on his desk—his Potions essay—the heat of the sun streaming down on him—and lastly, Sirius. Always Sirius.

"You know," Archer said suddenly, "if you had told me five years ago that not only would neither of us be on speaking terms with our parents but that we would still be friends, I wouldn't have believed you."

"You wouldn't?"

Archer shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, I would have liked it to be true, but I don't think I would've believed it."

Sirius rotated to face him, his head propped up by his elbow. "Why not?"

"Erm..." Archer hesitated. He hadn't meant to initiate this conversation, but now that he had, he wasn't going to stop. This was something he had been meaning to say for a long time. "When my parents left me with Uncle Harvey, I wasn't in a great place. I didn't understand, you know? I mean, I still don't, but..." He let out a humourless laugh. This was hard for him to say. "When all of that went down, I distanced myself from so many people—from you, from my other friends... It isn't something I'm proud of, but I did it. I didn't want to get hurt again."

Archer swallowed the lump in his throat. Sirius looked like he was about to say something but ultimately decided not to. He let Archer finish.

"Harvey and Dhruv were the only ones to get through to me, and eventually I came good again, but..." Archer sighed. "I've always regretted how our friendship ended. I'm really sorry."

Sirius was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, "It's okay. I'm sure I was to blame, too. I should've reached out. I'm... I'm sorry."

He appeared guilty, and Archer briefly wondered if there was more that he wasn't sharing, but he was quick to shelf the thought.

"Do you..." Archer hesitated. "Do you wonder what your life would be like if you hadn't left your parents' house?"

"Occasionally," Sirius admitted. "But I know I'm better for it."

Archer chose his next words carefully. "I love Harvey. He is kind and warm and considerate—the exact opposite of my parents—and he was there for me when they weren't, but..." He sighed heavily. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would've been like—what I would've been like—if things were different... You know?"

Sirius nodded. "I think all of us, at some point or another, wonder what life would be like if something were different—if our parents weren't despicable gits, or... or if the war had never started, or if some event had never happened." He paused, thinking his words through. "But I think that those events... all those things that happened to us... they shape who we are. And we wouldn't be the people we are today, had those events not occurred." Another pause, then: "If it's any consolation," Sirius added with a smile, "I think we turned out okay."

Archer smiled softly. That had been exactly what he had needed to hear. "Thank you," he said. Then, "Did you rehearse that?"

"Every night before bed," Sirius joked. Archer laughed. All of a sudden, Sirius frowned as an idea came to him. He proposed, "What if we tell Harvey?"

"Tell Harvey?" Archer questioned.

"Yeah," Sirius said. "I mean, if our parents found out we were friends, it would be a shitshow. But you said it yourself—Harvey isn't like them."

Archer hesitated. He knew that when Sirius said our parents he really meant his own parents, because Archer's parents would not care one bit—they didn't care, and that was their problem. But he was right, Harvey wouldn't mind... right? There was an uncertainty that took place in Archer's heart, because he didn't know for certain what Harvey would think. Would he be mad that Archer was friends with Sirius, whose parents had been friends with his brother and sister-in-law? Did Harvey hold a grudge against Sirius' parents? Or would he be happy that after all this time the two of them were friends again?

There were so many possibilities running through his mind, each one more irrational than the last. Archer thought about it carefully, about each of the things that could go wrong, and he said: "Let's do it."

Sirius smiled at him, and he smiled back. There were so many things that could go wrong, but... there were so many that could go right, too.

✶

Friday,
November 11th,
1977.

     There was a heaviness in Archer's chest as he ran down the halls of the castle, his mind plagued with worry.

After the Quidditch match ended, Archer had wasted no time in leaving his spot on the bleachers and heading straight for the Hospital Wing. The mass of people leaving at the same time as him was huge, but with some light pushing he had managed to get ahead of the crowd. Now, as he made his way toward the Hospital Wing, there was hardly anyone in the halls at all. Archer was grateful for this—he felt horrible, and he didn't want anyone seeing him like this. The feeling of helplessness gnawed at him. Just like how he couldn't help himself when those muggles jumped him in the summer, there was nothing he could do to help his best friend.

He burst through the double doors of the Hospital Wing, his brown eyes immediately falling on his bed-ridden best friend. Dhruv was still unconscious, but he seemed at peace as he laid there, so at least that was something. Archer began to make his way over when a small cough sounded from the other side of the room. Right, he thought with a newfound realisation. Dhruv wasn't the only one who had landed himself in the Hospital Wing during that match, was he?

Archer reluctantly turned his head in Sirius' direction. He was lying on his hospital bed with his elbows propped up behind him, a smirk dancing on his lips, his grey eyes staring directly at Archer. Hesitating for a moment, Archer glanced back at the still unconscious body of his best friend before he slowly began to walk over to where Sirius laid.

This would be the first time they had spoken in almost two weeks, and Archer didn't know what to say.

"Congratulations," Archer managed to say finally. Sirius stared up at him with a frown, and beginning to feel a little stupid, Archer's cheeks flushed a faint pink. Obviously the boy in front of him hadn't known what he was talking about, for he had been unconscious most of the match. He elaborated, "Gryffindor won."

Either oblivious or ignorant to Archer's embarrassment, Sirius grinned.

"Yeah, we're pretty great," Sirius said.

Archer just stared at him, unimpressed, but Sirius' grin didn't falter. A moment passed. Archer tentatively sat down on the small stool at the end of Sirius' bed. He hesitated, then said, "How do you feel?"

"Better now that you're here," Sirius said. Archer felt his mouth go dry, and he was suddenly grateful his cheeks were still pink from the embarrassment he had felt before because otherwise Sirius would be able to see the effect his words had on him. Despite what he felt, Archer maintained his unimpressed facade. Sirius sighed dramatically. "Fine. Madam Pomfrey said I'll be alright, that it's just a mild concussion. I should be out of here by morning—she wants me to stay overnight, to make sure I'm okay."

He blinked in surprise. "Really, that's it? You fell from that height, and all you have is a concussion?"

Sirius' grin faltered. "Haldar caught my fall."

Archer nodded slowly. Oh.

"You know," Sirius said, nodding in the direction of where Dhruv was lying, still unconscious, "It's probably because of Haldar over there."

Archer frowned. "What?"

"That we won," Sirius clarified, though Archer still wasn't sure he understood. He took a split second to wonder if Sirius felt the same embarrassment that he himself had felt earlier, but quickly decided that if he did, he didn't show it. Sirius always had this confident presence about him, and Archer wouldn't be surprised if Sirius had never felt embarrassment in his entire life. "Haldar has got to be Ravenclaw's best player—hell, he is one of Hogwarts' best players overall..." A smirk danced on his lips. "Well, besides Prongs and I, obviously."

"Obviously," Archer humoured him, a small smile threatening to break through.

"Without him, Ravenclaw barely stood a chance."

Archer hesitated. "That was sweet. I think."

Sirius pointed a finger at him. "You can't tell anyone I said that—I have a reputation to uphold."

"Of course," Archer said, a chuckle escaping from his lips. "We can't have people thinking you support Ravenclaw more than you do Gryffindor."

The boy in front of him mock-gasped, clutching a hand to his heart. "Never!"

Archer grinned—he had missed this. His heart ached, and it only took a few moments for his smile to start to fade. It was sudden, but not unexpected. He had been like this for a few days now.

Why can't you just leave me alone?

If that's what you want.

Yeah. It is.

He couldn't stop thinking about it, what he had said to Sirius in their last conversation. Here Sirius was, right in front of him, talking to him. Would he be doing that had Archer not initiated this conversation, had Sirius not been in the Hospital Wing, injured? Would Sirius have left him alone like he said he would, like he had been doing for the past two weeks?

At the time, Archer hadn't been thinking properly. The only thing that had been on his mind was that he needed to apologise to Dhruv, and he had said those words to Sirius without a second thought. But their time apart had allowed him to really evaluate what it was he wanted—or who—in his life. And Sirius... Sirius was someone who he didn't think he could live without. That was clear to him now.

"I—I didn't mean it," Archer said with a little difficulty.

Sirius frowned at the sudden change of topic. "Didn't mean what?"

Shit—had Sirius already forgotten about it? It didn't matter. Archer had already gone this far, he wasn't about to stop now.

"I don't, erm... I don't want you to leave me alone." Archer couldn't meet Sirius' eyes, instead choosing to look to the floor. Why was this so hard for him to say? Ugh. Words were not his friend right now. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just mean... Fuck, I don't know."

There was a long silence. Finally, Archer couldn't bear it, and he dragged his eyes away from the floor and to Sirius, who was already looking straight at him. Sirius opened his mouth to speak when a loud groan suddenly sounded from the other side of the room. Archer immediately stood up from the stool and rushed over to his best friend at the same time Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office.

"How is he, Madam Pomfrey?" Archer rushed out, his tone laced with worry.

Although Dhruv had made a noise, he did not stir and remained unconscious on the bed.

"He will be fine, Mr. Reyes" Madam Pomfrey said curtly. She did not spare him a glance. "Might I suggest you go back to your common room. Mr. Haldar and Mr. Black need their rest."

"But—!"

"Out, Mr. Reyes!" The woman in front of him sent him a stern look—she would not budge. Archer huffed. He headed toward the door, grumbling, when a teasing voice called out from behind him and stopped in him in tracks:

"See you in detention next week, Cupid!"

Archer temporarily turned around to face Sirius, the smile forming on his lips mirroring that of Sirius'. The nickname wasn't lost on him—Archer, Cupid. He let out an amused chuckle. It wasn't funny, but he still laughed. Oh, he had it bad.

✶

Authors Note!!!

     me, after seeing that i haven't updated this fic in an entire year:

     yikes, sorry about that. i'm hoping to update more frequently from now on <3

also, full disclosure: what i wrote above about how you can only use the reparo charm on objects that you have a basic understanding of... i pulled that completely out of my ass. i have no idea if that is true. probably not. i just needed a reason for his record player to be properly broken!

word count: 4906
28.12.2022