*screams for three hours*

Hi... Sorry for vanishing off the face of the earth...

Remember the beginning of this fic where I updated like once a week?

Those were the days.

As always, this fic is devoted to Andy. This fantastic person is fantastic, and everyone should worship their presence.

...

Suddenly, there was loud echoey sounds of conversation and the clatter of many feet.

Dinner was over.

And then they were surrounded by a circle of students, quiet and happy chatter abruptly cutting off and falling silent or giving way to horrified gasps, and then there was eyes on him and eyes on the girl and no, no this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening-

And then someone was pushing their way through the crowd, multiple someones, and it was Gimli and Boromir and Elladan and Elrohir and, and-

And Elrond. Elrond had stepped out from the masses of students, heading quickly to the girl paralyzed by fire on the ground and calling for someone to gather more teachers, for the prefects to get the students to bed, his wand out and enchanting quick, quiet spells with every passing moment.

And then Elrond was looking up at him, his father was looking up at him, his eyes wide and sad and unreadable.

"Aragorn?"

Aragorn swallowed hard at the sudden lump in his throat, remembering distinctly the feeling that he would outright die if his father turned in him in such a way, one that was scared and accusing instead of gentle and full of love.

He would, quite simply, not be able to deal with it at all.

In fact, he rather felt as if he wasn't able to deal with the stares at that very moment, the glares catching onto his frame like spiderwebs and making him feel incredibly small and insignificant and shameful- he was not Isildur, he wasn't, he wasn't, so why did everyone treat him like this- and he was frozen, staring back and lost in the suspicious gazes.

Legolas had no such qualms, his eyes switching from ill and watery to cold as glaciers as fast as anyone could draw their wands, outright scowling at the crowds of students and teachers before turning to Elrond, high and almighty and increasingly protective as the slant of Aragorn's shoulders curled ever inwards.

"He didn't do it! He was with me this whole time in one of the abandoned classrooms upstairs, and before that he was at Herbology," and of course Legolas know his schedule, of course he did, "with the Hufflepuffs. There is literally no conceivable time period where Aragorn could have done- done- this."

At these words, Legolas finally ran out of steam, everything else coming out in a single harried breath. Now he looked as if a strange mixture of fierce and determined and about-to-throw-up as his icy blue orbs trailed to the charred flesh in front of them, swallowing heavily on what was no doubt a mouthful of bile.

Elrond turned on him, and Aragorn tensed, ready for punishment, for disowning, for cold eyes and colder hearts, but Elrond was as he had always been, calm and kind and loving, and Aragorn could have cried for the relief he felt for it.

"Is that true?"

Slowly, carefully, focusing solely on his father, Aragorn nodded.

Whispers broke out among the crowd, hissed and loud and prominent, and it took all Aragorn had in him not to run away. They didn't believe him. None of them believed him. He hadn't been expecting it, hadn't even dared to really hope for it, but it still hurt. It burned, as if what had happened to that girl's flesh was happening on his insides, burning away at his chest and soul and heart, and there was nothing he could do about it.

And then-

"Oh, shut up, Sean. Look at 'im. Does he look like someone who could be capable of such a crime?"

Gimli. That was Gimli. Gimli was standing up for him.

And then there was another voice, angry and bright and loud, defending his honour from the back. That was Boromir, for Aragorn would recognize his friend's voice anywhere.

And then there was a pair of, higher, brighter voices, jeering at someone who had begun to talk perhaps a little too loudly to be accident about his evilness. He started upon recognizing it as Merry and Pippin's tones.

And then there was another quieter voice, chastly scolding someone in the crowd with soft kind tones, and Aragorn knew it was Sam.

And then he was being led away, Elrond gently tugging him in one direction even as a pair of teachers lifted the body in preparation for the infirmary and the rest of the staff herded the other students in the opposite direction. The nudges were delicate, and Aragorn realized that he might be having some issue breathing, that he might be going into shock, but Legolas was besides him- apparently outright refusing to leave despite Elrond's insistence, staring right into the Eyebrows of Doom without backing down- and when Aragorn turned, a familiar head of tightly ringed black curls and shining blue eyes looked back.

The boy mouthed something, and Aragorn read his lips, and the building knot in his throat eased.

We believe you, Frodo had mouthed, and Aragorn was finally starting to hope that things would turn out alright.

Professor Gandalf tapped his long crooked finger on the wood of his desk.

Once.

Twice.

Again, again, again.

Legolas stayed silent, glaring and crossing his arms. He had said his piece on the matter, and now Gandalf was staring keenly at him, blue orbs wide and searching.

Legolas did not give in. He had faced his father head on and he would not fall before the man in front of him.

Aragorn was innocent, and he deserved better.

He could still feel the anger bubbling under his skin- the taste of bile still lingering on his tongue from the sheer smell- and his eyes wanted to smart from the unfairness of it all. Aragorn didn't deserve this. He didn't. The Gryffindor was one of the brightest, kindest people that he had ever met, and he didn't deserve the scorn and cruelty that he got.

So Legolas glared and crossed his arms and waited for the verdict, waited for his time to argue.

He wouldn't let Aragorn get expelled without a fight.

For his part, Aragorn was besides him, face still and pale even after he had explained his side of the story. In direct contrast to Legolas, he was loose and resigned.

Quietly, the dark haired boy spoke up, his eyes tired and dull.

"It wasn't me, Professor. Really."

Legolas nodded his head vigorously.

Finally, Professor Gandalf leaned forwards, that small spark in his eyes seemingly lighting up once more, and when he spoke his voice was kind and warm.

"My dear boy, I never doubted it."

Aragorn closed his eyes in relief, slumping in his chair and heaving a deep breath. Legolas gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, a smile working its way onto his lips despite the dire situation.

"So Aragorn's not going to be expelled?"

The headmaster shook his head, long beard waving.

"No."

The blonde wiped at his forehead, still feeling vaguely ill even as he tried to focus on the positives, even as the world seemed too heavy and too light all at once. The smell of charred flesh was still in his nose and he kept thinking back to the hallway, to the girl and her frozen scream, to the horrified and accusing whispers, to Aragorn and the anxious tensing of his shoulders.

He had headache. He wanted to sleep. He would say he was hungry, but the mere thought of food was honestly just making him want to throw up.

He didn't say any of this, simply squeezed Aragorn's arm again and asked, "So, what now?"

Gandalf's kind expression flickered and faded, replaced by one filled with concern and determination, somehow making the elderly man's face seem even older. If one was observant and bright enough- and indeed, Legolas was- there was also the barest tracests of quiet fear hidden in those blue orbs.

The blonde couldn't help but feel his own terror curl up tight in his throat, because it was thing to be scared of something and quite another to have your teacher, too.

But he said nothing, and watched.

"I'm afraid I don't know. I had hoped- Well, I had hoped that there would have been progress by now, but there has been nothing. And with the attacks and the rumours of Isildur's Monster rising, we might have to close down the school."

Aragorn spoke up, his own voice quiet.

"Sir- Professor- Do you- Do you think that these things are happening because I'm here? Cause- Because I can leave. I- I'll leave, if you think it best-"

Legolas could feel his neck protesting from how fast he whipped it around to look at his friend.

"What- Aragorn- No! It's not your fault!"

Gandalf was shaking his head as well, his brows furrowed.

"No, Aragorn. I cannot and will not ask for you to leave. Your presence here has nothing to do with the attacks, and is of mere coincidence. It is not you who are doing these things, and I don't want to hear you thinking about it in that manner, you hear me?"

The Gryffindor nodded, and Gandalf nodded in turn.

"For now, we'll institutionalize new safety measures. No travelling alone, escorted classes, stricter curfews, and more patrolling teachers."

The wizard looked the two young boys in the eye.

"Be safe. Be smart. Watch each other's back, and keep a look out."

They were dismissed, and they slowly stood and walked out of the office. Legolas could tell his friend was exhausted- and no wonder, first there had been the crying and then the crime scene and then the accusations and the the interrogation, and even Legolas was feeling exhausted.

He didn't know why he was so, so tired.

Maybe it was the lack of food.

The door swung open just before they got there, and in stalked the imposing figure of Professor Saruman. Legolas jerked out of the way, practically jumping to move out of the man's war path. Aragorn seemed to become aware enough of the world to turn and give him a concerned look at that- because this was Aragorn, and there wasn't a selfish molecule in his body- but the blonde simply should his head and wrapped an arm around himself.

Somehow, he felt even more tired.

He didn't like Professor Saruman much anymore.

He had never adored the man, of course. The professor was abrasive and strict and a little bit rude in his teaching methods, going fast through difficult material and not taking the time to explain again for those who didn't get it right away, even sometimes directing vaguely insulting commentary towards slower students. However. it was always obvious he new his work and he gave good information, lack of actual practice with wands aside, and Legolas could respect that.

But ever since that week of illness that felt like it was a lifetime ago, he hadn't felt… comfortable around the man. The lesson made him tired beyond just usual class boredom and whenever the Charms Teacher came too close, he felt as if someone had poured ice into his veins.

Whenever Professor Saruman actually touched him, handing back papers or brushing past him on his way to his desk, Legolas always felt drained and empty. Wrong.

It was probably nothing. It was probably just Legolas working himself up into a tizzy because he associated the classroom with the ugly feeling of the horrid fever and sickness, and in turn associated the man with the classroom. It wasn't important, not when Aragorn was drowning under his social anxiety and Gimli's continued glares aimed at his direction. Not when people were being attacked, not when Legolas's Father had gone silent, each letter Legolas writes to him going without response.

Not when so many people had it so much worse.

Legolas wasn't going to complain. He could handle it, he could handle it and he was fine. Elrond had already been so kind to him, had taken care of him and spent valuable resources and time on him when there were those who needed it so much more.

It wasn't important. Everything was fine. He was fine.

He just didn't much like Charms Class, that was all.

They stumbled out of the headmaster's office, and they were greeted with Elrond's worried grimace and patient manner, who immediately reached out for Aragorn the minute he laid eyes on him

The brunette went willingly, haltingly falling into his adoptive father's embrace and wrapping his smaller limbs around the older man. His face was smushed against the Professor's chest, and Elrond had a hand trailing through the brown hair in soothing strokes, comforting murmurs Legolas couldn't quite catch echoing around them.

The blonde took a step back, tucking himself ever so slightly into the shadows and very much out of the way, eyes averted and tracing the detailed strokes of the closest paintings.

It was a quiet moment, a private moment, a moment not meant for Legolas' eyes, not really, and he okay with that.

His blue orbs flickered back to the scene, just for a moment, before turning away again.

His mind wandered to his desk, where a half finished letter was waiting to be sent.

Perhaps, this time, he would get a reply.

He doubted it.

Sometimes... sometimes Legolas wished his bond with his father was as close as the one Aragorn so obviously had with his family. That kind of close relationship feeling where Elrond went out of the way to sometimes meander around the Gryffindor table to say hi, or Aragorn would arrive a couple minutes late to the library by saying he lost track of time talking with his dad. Elladan and Elrohir would sometimes outright randomly jump his friend in the hallways, pulling the brunette in for noogies and cheerfully swinging him around and teasing while Aragorn complained loudly and laughed at their antics.

Sometimes, Legolas would look at the closeness and look back at his own quiet home, where the house was too big and the conversations were distant or nonexistent, where hugs were rare and I love you's rarer, and wished desperately that his relationship with his father wasn't so broken or tired or strained. He knew his Father loved him. He knew that he cared. But still...

Sometimes.

But he didn't say it. Aragorn needed every scrap of positive attention he could get, and Legolas wasn't going to ruin it by being petty and whiny, wasn't going to make Aragorn feel guilty, because he knew his friend and he knew that that would be how he felt. The Gryffindor would somehow convince himself that it was his fault, that being with his family was somehow bad and hurting the blonde, when really Legolas was fine.

His mind flashed back to the girl.

It wasn't that important.

(His problems weren't that important.)

Elrond finally pulled away and turned his attention to the blonde. The Ravenclaw simply smiled. He felt tired, wanted the whole day to be done already, and when Elrond asked if he was feeling alright Legolas pushed back the dull pounding in his head and nodded.

He was fine.

Really.

The Transfiguration Professor escorted them to their dorms,first dropping Aragorn off and then Legolas. His steps were brisk as he guided them along, and the two boys went willingly, wandering quietly through the cold echoing halls.

Legolas shivered.

He wondered what it would feel like to burn.

...

ANDDDDDDDD FINISHED!

It's pretty short, only like two and a half thousand words, but it felt like a good stopping point. AP Exams are coming up, but the next chapter hopefully should be up soonish, as in not having a several months hiatus.

If people are still there, reading this despite my sporadic updating, thanks for staying with me.

A giant thank you for all my followers/favoriters! Thispiper, walking by moonlight, Italy's Driving, minouuu974, livingwithbooks, TimeShard13, RamsesX2, emma3882, Noor82003, and Lily Carmen Black, you all are positively lovely and I thank you so much!

To my fantastic AMAZINg reviewers, Thispiper, Joyday05 (TWICE!), Puffers Aren't Duffers (love your username, by the way), Andy the willow tree, Guest2,

To Joyday05: Ah! I'm so glad that you love this, and I hope your suspense has not killed you! Also, don't cry! Pleeeeaseee don't cry! HERE, HAVE THIS CHAPTER. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? ELROND HAS HUGS. Aaaaah- spelling mistakes. THE EVIL THINGS. I was actually rereading this fic to get back into the zone and I noticed SO MANY, so I'll probably actually end up doing a complete edit for this whole thing at some point, and keep your spot out in mind. Thanks so much for the help! (Also, thank you so much for the review!)

Guest2: Hello there! Thank you so much for your kind words and I'm so happy that you found my take on this classic trope unique and enjoyable. Yes, poor poor Aragorn. I love to torture him, hate to see him tortured. Sorry for the long wait and thank you for your lovely review!

goddess7533: Greetings! I'm happy to hear that you're enjoying the story! AND, actually, I HAVE A PLAAAAN for Arwen and Tauriel. I cannot reveal what it is, but IT EXISTS. Muwahahahaha. So yeah, there's a reason they haven't popped up yet, and they will very probably pop up in the future, if nothing drastic happens to my muse. :) Hope that helps and thanks for the review!

Boom! That was a long note, so sorry about that.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for reading!