reposted. from my LJ (original post date: 4 Aug 2010).
notes. Sebastian/Ciel, inspired by the lovely, lovely manga Seven Days. Magic School AU with kouhai!Ciel and senpai!Sebastian (with a twist!).
If he could have had his way, he would never have crossed paths here with *him*.
As a prodigy that has brought instructors and supervisors to their feet with each demonstration, as a genius that has made his name a fixture on the top of the theory examinations, as a student that has surpassed the normality of others that share the same age—he is Ciel Phantomhive, the newest addition to the highest level of magical study in Victorian Institute of Magic.
He has more or less continued to get his way since *that day*, but lately life has been prone to throwing more obstacles in his way.
One such obstacle is a physical one, a person that looks like someone out of those blasted fairy tales, a person that looks like those demons that instructors always warn the younger generations about.
Their eyes meet for a moment that is definitely longer than it should be.
Ciel squares his proud little shoulders, tilts his chin upwards in an arrogant angle, and lets his lips curl into a smirk that's more challenging than the bland ones that normally grace his face.
Their arms brush lightly but Ciel doesn't show any reaction to the movement and continues his walk down the hallway and towards his classroom.
There are rumors—and while rumors are usually something he avoids, there *are* rumors that become so widespread and persistent because of the truth behind them.
Ciel considers his tablemates' chatter about Angela from Tier II-A and her current status as the latest lady to be able to proudly say that she's Sebastian Michaelis' girlfriend.
"For the week," Maylene repeats a little more forcefully each time, as though to re-affirm something. She adjusts her glasses—one of the glasses that Ciel repaired in his demonstration of fixture-magic.
The table dissolves to more chatter—mostly mutterings about how Angela is too forward to ask Sebastian out in front of the entire Tier I-A class.
Ciel wonders if this is a sign that he should just eat lunch alone starting tomorrow. He isn't the type to be interested in such things. If only Madam Red didn't make (blackmail) him promise to be more… friendly and Madam Middleford didn't suggest (threaten) that he expand his social network to fellow students...
He dabs a napkin daintily on his lips, appetite gone. Food from the elite dormitory isn't as appetizing as he expected. He lifts his eyes from his utensils and it's at that exact moment that he meets eyes that appear to sparkle despite the bland lighting in the dining hall.
The moment lasts longer than it feels appropriate, but it's not in his personality to avert his eyes—not from his past, not from his problems, and definitely not from this senior that's notorious for agreeing to date anyone who asked him. ("For a week," a voice whispers at the back of his mind.)
The staring contest is brought to a stop when the bells chime to alert the students for the start of their next block of classes. Ciel adjusts taps his lunchbox with his index finger, the lunchbox disappearing into thin air and into the brooch Ciel carries. Onlooking students titter at the sight of compression magic being used too freely and more importantly, by a little kid.
It's only for convenience and definitely not for showing off, but nobody will look at it that way. Which is fine with Ciel, but he can't help feeling the sparks of irritation when the playboy senior with blood-colored eyes simply sighed at his magic, as though in disappointment.
He adjusts his cloak, loosens his collar a little and bears the weight of groups of students' stares at his retreating back.
He's not really that fond of the idea of him joining the Magical Institute.
Making sure that he doesn't go overboard with his magical demonstrations while keeping up his cover is hard work—especially since the magic being taught to the highest tier this month is something that he has already mastered years ago.
It's only a matter of time before his instructors grow suspicious of him.
He's not really that fond of the idea of him being in a Magical Institute when he could be at his mansion, being served parfaits and generally away from people who make his skin crawl—he calms down his thoughts by taking deep breaths, remembering the touch of gloves upon his cheeks, corpse-cold skin robbing heat from his face—
He puts his pen down, reading the message he wrote down on the enchanted parchment. He makes sure that there's no room for misinterpretation, makes sure that there's no loophole.
He thinks about using the usual security magic, but before his hands can draw the routine lines of fingertips upon particulate-heavy air, he stops. A smirk grows on his lips, because that sigh of boredom stands out in his recent memory, even now.
Ciel researches additional spells to augment his security magic.
He's not really that fond of his presence here, but that doesn't mean that he won't try to make this game enjoyable.
When Ciel summons his lunchbox from his brooch the next day, it takes most of his willpower to not yell in agitation. Instead of the stale-looking lunch that he's expecting, there's a feast laid out in front of him—food reminiscent of those found in five-star restaurants and at his mansion. More importantly, such an amount of food to be crammed in his brooch... only a high-level compression magic can achieve a feat. A high-level magic that Ciel hasn't mastered yet.
Ciel clenches his fists and when he looks up, sure enough, red eyes are watching him, no traces of boredom in them.
If that person managed to cram this food inside his brooch, he must have done it while he was sleeping, which means that *he* broke into his room, which means that he was able to unlock the security magic that took hours to memorize and install—
Yes, the game just got more interesting.
The month is over before he knows it and Sebastian Michaelis has gone through four girls.
It makes Ciel wonder whether the female population in the institute is made up of masochists—to actually enjoy being thrown away after a week... it puzzles him. But he doesn't ever ask, because he's not that interested in the answer anyway. Asking implies a certain level of care, something that he doesn't want to associate with Sebastian.
The month is over and despite sharing several heated glances on a nearly daily basis, Ciel hasn't actually had the pleasure of meeting Sebastian Michaelis.
If he had his way, he'd never have to *meet* him here.
The introductions go smoothly—Finnian chirps some statement about how cool is it that the two most popular students finally are friends, while Maylene stutters something about sparkles and black suits—smoother than he dreaded.
The two of them shake hands, his smaller hand nearly swallowed by the folds of those white gloves. Sebastian is smiling at him, an amiable smile that irritates Ciel to no end.
Ciel pulls his hand away from the handshake almost immediately after, feeling a certain coldness seep into his fingers. Sebastian says something to excuse himself, ever the polite gentleman, and catches Ciel's eye. Ciel huffs and cradles his right hand close to his chest.
Five minutes later and Ciel opens his cold, slightly trembling fist and finds a key there.
"Are you enjoying yourself, young master?"
Sebastian's smile is stripped of the cordial gentleness and is now simply mocking and cruel.
Ciel resists the urge to roll his eyes. This Magical Institute doesn't deserve the title of being the most elite magical school when it can't even stop the infiltration of a creature it's supposed to hunt down and its master.
"You're late," Ciel snaps instead, because one month is too long and seeing too many people latching on to Sebastian's elbow is giving him an allergy.
"I'd suggest for the young master to check his clock more carefully," Sebastian's eyes is brimming with mirth, "since the arranged time is one o'clock and it's only twelve forty-"
Ciel points a finger—a blazing finger—straight to Sebastian's non-existent heart as a warning. He then clicks his tongue and twists the key in its place, opening the door to the underground library where the witches' meetings are held.
"Oh?" Sebastian lets the flames lick the miniscule space between his coat and his master's finger, "Young Master has learned a very dangerous spell."
Ciel squashes the hint of pride that warms his gut at Sebastian's appraising tone.
"Let's go, demon."
Because there's a job waiting for the Phantomhive hunter.
"Yes, My Lord."
"I think being my underclassman suited Young Master really well," Sebastian comments as soon as they finish collecting the necessary evidence for the arrest of the higher-ups in the Victorian Magical Institute. The crime for sheltering witches is high treason and possibly one of the most shameful acts to commit.
Ciel can't wait to leave this place.
"Did it bother Young Master?" Sebastian's crimson eyes glow. "To see me mingling with those humans?"
"Don't be impertinent, demon," Ciel coldly chastises, but he knows that even at this darkness, Sebastian can still see the mild flush that now warms his cheeks.
Sebastian chuckles, obviously satisfied with the answer he got.
Without another word, Sebastian picks up the most interesting human he's ever seen, ignoring the other's half-hearted protests.
After all, he may have agreed with those one-week charades in order to fit in seamlessly, but there's someone who already asked him first.