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Sapnap is fucking terrified. It’s 3am, he’s running from every MACUSA Auror in Massachusetts, and the last person he needs to see right now is Karl Jacobs from Ilvermorny and his goddamn magical tea shop.
“Sapnap! Hey! Hey Sapnap!”
The man in question nearly growls when he whirls around and stares Karl down, wand drawn and at the ready, thousands of hexes at the tip of his tongue. He obviously doesn’t know, then, if he’s inviting him in at this hour and in the middle of the largest manhunt North America’s ever seen.
He relaxes, letting a friendly smile play out onto his lips as he eases into his well-practiced Wampus House Quidditch star Sapnap persona. “Sorry about that!” he grins harder, covering his newly-elongated canines and bloodshot golden eyes with a cheerful demeanor, a flirty wink, and years of unspoken shared history.
Karl invites him in, and Sapnap can’t quite say he’s surprised. After all, he’s always been the talkative type, with his time turners and far too packed class schedules and general love for anything gossipy. He’d make a great partner, blending in with the No-Majs to garner outside information. Sapnap brushes away the thought. He’s just using him for an escape. He can’t get attached, especially if it’d put another person in danger.
Sapnap’s nine again, and there’s a weird boy on the swing set. He wants a turn, wants to feel the sky in his fingertips and the clouds beneath his feet, but he watches as the boy makes the leaves float off the ground and smiles softly, as though keeping the moment to himself.
Sapnap can do that too, and he offers his own leaf to the growing pile, startling the other kid who promptly falls off of the swing he’d been sitting on. “You… you’re a wizard!” The boy shouts, forgetting to keep his voice down in public places where there might be others here who’d hunt them down for it. But there’s no one else in the park but Sapnap and the boy, and they twirl their leaves in shared, stunned silence.
The coffee is surprisingly good for something homebrewed in the middle of the night, and Sapnap almost lets a mewl of approval out between milk-mustachioed lips. Not now , he has to remind himself. It isn’t safe anymore . Karl sits down at his own chair, stirring his mug thoughtfully. He rests an elbow onto his porcelain saucer, kicks a stray copy of The Wizard’s Voice under the table, and nearly breaks out into song.
“I haven’t seen you in ages , Sapnap!! How did your thesis turn out, anyway? Did you finally catch that dire werewolf you kept hunting down?” With a snap of his fingers, Karl turns the light bulbs off and lights a few floating candles “for the conspiratorial atmosphere.” He leans in, waiting for a response that never comes.
There’s a sharp knock on the door before it goes flying from its hinges, glass from the window panes shattering onto cold, black and white tiles. Sapnap tugs his cloak farther over his head, shrinking down in his chair before daring to glance at Karl. The man in question has risen up from his seat, shouting at the Aurors about personal property and respect for small businesses before Sapnap hears a sharp “Langlock!” and knows that Karl’s been cursed with silence.
He can almost feel the intruders walking in, surrounding the shadowy figure that’s bound to be their runaway fugitive, and Sapnap thanks Merlin that he’s always been good at wordless transformation magic before his hood is yanked off, his chair is kicked out from under him, and his wrists are bound beneath coils of enchanted vines. There’s an audible gasp from the Auror in green, who tries to offer a hand before he’s stopped by the one in blue.
“Punz? Is that you?” Dream croaks out, voice barely a whisper before Sapnap realizes that holy Fuck he just fucked up massively and holy Shit he is in deep shit right now . The best way to throw off the detectives on your case is not, in fact, magicking yourself into their dead brother (that you KILLED, a small portion of his brain offers up), but instead morphing into literally anyone else on the entire continent.
Sapnap uses the spare second of confusion to break through his chains, sweeping himself onto his feet and knocking away Dream’s wand, finally face to face with his former best friend and current enemy. He feels sorry for him, pities the broken boy behind the cruel mask of indifference, regrets causing all the pain and hurt that comes with being tasked to eliminate traitors to the Magical Congress. Sapnap was one once, memories burned into his soul from what feels like thousands of years ago but is really just a few months prior.
He opens a flaming door in one, throwing a hand out to the girl inside. She refuses, opting to burn from the inside out instead. He calls for her, summoning water, trying to cool down smoking pink hair and tear-stained cheeks before her fingertips turn to ashes right before his eyes and he sees a woman blessed with the gifts of a phoenix wither and die for the first time. She comes back minutes later, skin gleaming, fire blossoming, but what’s done is done , and Sapnap feels her pain time and time again.
He falls from the sky in another, dropped by the one seraphim he’d trusted, wind whistling in his ears and pavement drawing closer and closer and closer until he’s shutting his eyes and saying his last goodbyes to anyone and everyone he’s ever loved before he hears the crackle of a portkey and the sweet, sweet sound of ocean waves, but what’s done is done , and Sapnap feels a phantom pain time and time again.
He’s holding his wand in the final memory, brandishing it as though it’s a weapon of mass destruction ( and it is , he says, because how many people have you caused to suffer with just your words and this one stick of wood? ). He faces a friend, one on the opposite side of this war between the supporters of Grindelwald and the common wizards of North America. He wishes it was anyone else, but he can’t let him go, not when one Acolyte left free is one more No-Maj dying a painful death. Sapnap looks into his friend’s eyes one final time, and begins the duel that will haunt him for the rest of his life.
It’s dark outside again, visions fading into nothingness, and Sapnap can barely see in-between blurry spots and faded figures. He assumes he’s been punched, knocked out into a state of half-consciousness while he waits for a punishment to come, for him to be carted off to court or something for running from MACUSA orders and becoming a fucking werewolf. It wasn’t his choice, not really, but that’s not what they’ll believe, not when his grades weren’t exactly stellar and he has no one to vouch for his character that isn’t six feet underground, dead and buried.
There’s a loud bang that startles him from his thoughts, and Sapnap closes his eyes and assumes the worst.
Sapnap’s eleven again, and he’s never been around this many magic users in his entire life. He feels almost drunk with power, feeling the heavy thrum of energy flowing from person to person to person, reaching a hand out towards the skies above, until he’s stopped by a hand on his wrist and a calming smile. “It’s okay,” he says. “I feel it too.”
They sit together on the carriage ride up to the main part of campus, talking about classes and ideas and how cool it is that they’re studying with actual witches and wizards from actual magical families, never once mentioning that they’re wizards too. It goes unspoken, their connection, one to be kept secret because mixed blood is dangerous and unheard of in America even if it’s acceptable elsewhere.
“You can open your eyes,” a voice whispers softly. “They’re gone.” And Sapnap has never before been so happy for Karl Jacobs and his goddamn magical tea shop.
He’s not going to pry into his past, something that Sapnap is eternally grateful for. He has the Aurors off his back, at least for a little while, and that’s all that matters to him. Well, that, and the unfinished cup of coffee staring back at him. Karl lifts a finger and steam pours out of his mug, depressingly lukewarm brew turning piping hot in an instant while Sapnap laments his own broken wand laying on the floor. He’s not entirely sure how that happened, but it’s worth it if he can still do wandless magic and at least have a little bit of peace and quiet.
Sapnap sips from the glass, stares outside, and falls into the deepest sleep he’s had in a long while.
Sapnap’s thirteen again, and he’s bleeding out in the middle of the Thunderbird wing. He knows it was a bad idea to challenge the upper schoolers, especially when they’ve learned so much magic and he can barely recite a Knockback Jinx without tripping over at least one of the syllables. He’d cry for help, but he doesn’t really feel like it, not when the floor is so nice and comfortable and speaking takes so much effort.
He feels hands shaking him, calling out for a teacher or a prefect or anyone who can help before there’s the near-imperceptible sound of a time-turner humming and the warmth beside him is gone. It’s back in an instant (or maybe a few hours… he’s not entirely sure), and with it comes a healing spell and a blood-replenishing potion and a shaky voice begging him to be more careful next time, for Merlin’s sake. Sapnap opens his eyes shakily to see light lavender ones peering back, and manages a weak smile in thanks.
There are tiny little girls outside and his head hurts. “Girl Guides!” they cry out, begging for Sapnap to buy some cookies and preach the Lord’s message and it’s way too early in the morning for this, especially considering that he’d been a wanted criminal up until a few days ago. He might still be (he probably is, now that he thinks about it, considering that he still isn’t sure what got Dream and George to flee other than Karl’s unexplained trickery), but Karl’s set up magical borders around the back area of the coffee shop so he can’t leave the yard anyway.
It’s the full moon in a couple of hours, and without someone to help him through the transformation he’d turn completely wolflike forever, or at least that’s what Karl’s read in an old book of superstitions. Sapnap thinks it’s all bullshit, and he should be able to run with the wolves if he really wants to. It’s not like anyone here would miss him anyway, but when he tells that one to Karl he gets a sad look and a shake of the head.
“I’d miss you,” he says, and Sapnap doesn’t believe him. He slams the door in the ten-year-olds’ faces and cries.
Sapnap’s fifteen again, and he’s just made the Wampus Quidditch team. There’s about 20 other boys and girls sulking in the corner, but he feels a sense of pride as he accepts his robes and puts on his pads. He turns around and faces an invisible crowd, envisioning hordes of fans watching him, chanting his name, celebrating his awesome plays and amazing throws and epic broomwork.
Karl’s immediately by his side, congratulating him, and Sapnap leans into the hug, not caring if the other people on the pitch look at them weirdly because he loves him, and he doesn’t know in what way yet, but that’s okay because it’s Karl and Karl would always be there. Always.
He can’t feel his magic at all. Something’s gone wrong, horribly wrong, and he knows it’s the more animal part of his brain relishing in the transformation, but it hurts so goddamn bad that he just wants to end everything, right here, right now.
Someone holds him back, soothing tones whispering lullabies into his newly-sprouted fur, rubbing soft hands along his ruddy coat as he stretches out, out, out out into the air. He likes this person, whoever it is. They’re kind. They have a kind voice, and he hopes they know that. It feels better, when he’s with them, and the pain eases away with the melody.
Sapnap’s seventeen again, and he's lost in a book of Runes while curled up in a soft library chair. No one will find him back here, no one will even think to check the outskirts of the archives room, and he’s alone with his thoughts for once in his life, at least until he spots the fluffy brown hair and unmistakable grin from across the corridor and sighs. Maybe one person is okay.
Karl slides over, pulling cushions out from every couch he sees until he has a veritable mountain of pillows towering over Sapnap. He floats himself to the top of it with ease, using his O in Charms for slightly less than nefarious purposes. Sapnap got a P in Charms, but Karl doesn’t need to know that.
He abandons his book in favor of jumping on top of the pile (Karl included), not caring if he breaks a few bones in the process. They’re just kids again, if only for a moment, and Sapnap no longer has to care about exams or the future while he spends time with the one person in this school he might see as a little bit more than a friend.
He’s back.
He’s himself again, albeit with no clothes, lying naked in the middle of the laundry room floor as he cry-laughs into a state of sudden hysteria. He must be a sight to see, long, unkempt black hair left loose from its usual updo, features slightly too sharp to be human but just human enough to prevent others from stopping to stare.
He’s back, and he can feel something missing from his heart.
Sapnap’s nineteen again, and he’s leaving Ilvermorny for good. Karl’s staying on for his final year, helping the potions professor and interning so he can one day start a business of his own. He calls it the Real World, the non-magical one, but Sapnap just calls it home. His new home, that is, because he knows that home isn’t a place, but a people, and in his eyes there’s only one person that could ever claim that title.
Karl pretends to be happy for him, wishing him luck on his adventures and the best of travels in the future. Sapnap knows he wants him to stay, wants to stay himself even, but the Magical Congress has requested his presence, and he’s not going to turn down a job opportunity from Head Auror Stampy himself.
He’ll see Karl again, somehow, somewhere. He knows it in the back of his mind like he knows his times tables and his basic hexes, sandwiched in-between rushed “I love you’s” and the painful tears of goodbye.
“It’s you. After all these years… It’s always been you.” And Sapnap flushes red, because he knows it’s true, knows that he has another half and that other half is Karl Jacobs and his goddamn magical tea shop.
They kiss, and he feels whole again.