Chapter Text
He had to give it to Auradon, it was nice being fed, even the crappy sweet shit that Gil liked was better than the best on the Isle. He could even admit that the over-the-top dorm rooms with their too-soft beds and too-many pillows were not all that bad, but the horde of students was not on that list.
Shoving through another group of kids, Harry yanks Gil after him. He dimly thinks back to the week before last, and considers that perhaps decking the arrogant fuck of a princeling was the wrong thing to do as he elbows his way through the after class crowding. He winces as a flash goes off beside him, and yanks the phone away from the girl and flings it over his shoulder with a snarl. It’s too much.
It’s all too much.
Another flash. He feels himself scowl as time slows. The hall's frantic shouting goes mute and he blinks down at his feet - when did he start looking down? He straightens again, but the effort shudders the breath in his lungs as he feels for Gil’s jacket. Something, anything.
He distantly hears Gil talking, his bag being taken, and he blinks his eyes open - when did he close them?- as he feels blades of grass under his hands. Gil smiles sharply above him, slinging their bags over his shoulder. Harry looks around, waving off Gil’s hand as he stumbles to his feet. It’s a small courtyard, just enough grass to warrant the small tree in the middle. Or maybe not, since he’s never seen anyone use it. “We should go.” Harry turns in time to see another flash go off through the open window they must have escaped through.
His bag hits him in the chest, barely catching it as he loops one of the arms on his wrist. Gil jerks his chin towards the set of doors on the far side of the courtyard. “Benny’ll catch up to us if we sit around. C’mon.”
He blinks, and tucks the bag onto his shoulder, shoving his awareness back into his body. The weight is uncomfortable still, a weight he’s not used to carrying but there is some sense in the entire thing as he trails Gil through the mostly empty hallways, producing a bar from the breakfast hall that morning from it’s many useless pockets. He tosses one to Gil as the blond shoves open another door, this one to the walking paths.
Gil pouts, eyes carefully trained away from Harry, taking a long look at the sun high above them. “I hate the sun, I think.”
“Mm,” Harry nods, absently. The bar tastes like shit but he takes another bite before answering, “It’s fuckin’ annoyin’.”
“Too bright,” Gil complains, “I’m constantly hot. It’s not even the hot time either.”
“Summer.” Harry supplies. God does the bar taste like soap. Turning the wrapper over in his hands Harry frowns at the ingredients. He squints at tiny writing. “What the fuck is a pecan. And why does it taste so bad.”
Gil pauses a few steps ahead and swings an arm around Harry as they fall into pace with eachother. This close, Harry can smell the new sickly sweet smell of the fancy bodywash in the showers, and wrinkles his nose. It was too much for him on a good day, like face planting a grove of oranges. The smell only gets more intense as Gil leans down to read the tiny writing, his ponytail sweeping over his shoulder.
Gil hums, shaking his head. “No, no we talked about this like, two days ago in food class. There's a bunch of nuts, right? And there’s one called pecan, and it doesn’t taste like soap but…maybe they put something weird in this? Like what's soya lecithin?” They trade a look. “Could be soap.”
Harry makes a face. He doesn’t think the preppy assholes would be idiotic enough to eat soap but he didn’t feel like explaining that to Gil. It didn’t even feel pointed, seeing as the entire stash was an item in the food line in the dining hall where any student would grab it, and Harry had watched many do so before taking his own. Shoving the rest into his pocket he follows Gil into the dorm building.
Gil mutters something about the air conditioning as they pass through, casting a look at the guards standing on either side of the hall. They don’t so much as twitch as both teens stride to the elevator and inside, slapping their keycards against the panel. Unlike the school building, no students mill about, what few doors are open shut as they pass by, boots almost silent on the carpet.
He stops in front of the last door to the left with a click of his tongue. It looks like every other one, missing the trinkets and baubles the others had, but the same tech-y locking system as theirs. Which meant no break-ins.
The heel of his palm thrums with pain as he knocks, his knuckles smarting where the scabs are catching on the inside of his gloves. Gil makes a low sound beside him, but doesn’t say anything. The door shudders from another kick.
Sucking his teeth, Harry leans against it. “I’ll fuckin’ send us all to the brig if I have to ye cunt. I know ye are in there, bein’ ye didnae show up tae class.”
“Mm,” Gil hums lowly. “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”
“Like hell,” Harry glares at the door, hearing nothing. Down the hall a lock clicks.
Brows raised, Mal stares at them from the bathroom, steam washing out onto the carpet. Behind her, just covered by the frame, Evie peers from inside, her hair dripping. The tiny squeak sounds loud in the silence as she jerks back, disappearing from view.
Mal grins, all teeth. “I’d say it’s nice to see you, but you look like shit.” She snickers to herself, caught in the joke. A pale hand sneaks from the frame and latches onto the holes of the threadbare shirt, painted nails scracthing for purchase until they hook and pull and Mal raises a hand to them. He feels his brows rise in question but a low shake from Gil is enough to keep him silent. She pauses a moment, no doubt listening to Evie, then shuts the door with a firm glance.
She leans on the door with a sigh, crossing her arms. “So? What?”
“What.” Harry repeats.
“You came here, dumbass,” she says dryly.
“Ye weren’t at class.” He finds himself saying.
Mal scoffs, “That bull isn’t important on a good day.”
To her credit, Mal doesn’t so much as react to their glances as she waits them out, unbothered by the cool air conditioning in her sleep shirt, a crude design painted on the front, legs bare.
She picks at the peeling design, flicking it off her fingers with small movements. “Is it a privy thing?” she drawls in a awful port accent, “Or?”
“Privvy.” Harry echoes, “An’ stop that shite, it’s fuckin’ annoyin’.”
She picks again at the shirt before dropping her hand. “Sure.” She knocks thrice on the door and tugs it open, just enough to slip inside, casting a long look at them. “Four minutes.”
Harry resigns himself to the silence as the door closes with a thud. A few seconds later a door to their right clicks open and a shy pair of eyes peer at them before closing with a gasp.
Gil snickers to himself, sliding down the wall to sit. “Are we allowed up here?”
“Does it matter?” He’s sure if he listened hard enough they’d be able to pick up the frantic phone call inside. Princey Boy had no doubt told them, but Harry had spent the entire shit tour trying to not kill that arrogant fuck of a rat. “If we did it their way, we’d be locked up for fuckin’ ever. Gods forbid we actually do somethin’.”
Mal slams the door open a few minutes later with just as much ferocity as she did to close it, now dressed in a pair of shorts as well, boots in one hand, and the rest of her clothing in the other. Evie trails behind her as Mal opens their room, pressing Evie inside with an almost gentle hand before striding in herself.
Harry nods Gil to enter, the door locking shut behind them with a quiet click. One light is on in the corner between the beds, shadowing the rest of the room in low molten gold. A slew of material has been heeped onto their study table, and a small machine Harry vaguely recognizes. The beds have been moved together, creating one giant monstrosity in the middle of the room, neither fitting against the windows or walls, the leftover furniture left in their places to make room. Evie doesn’t pause as she hops up and under the covers, leaning against the pillows still not quite meeting their eyes.
Mal clicks her tongue, sitting on one of the out of place chests. “So. What?” She asks again.
Harry kicks a chair away from the mountain on the table, ignoring Mal’s glare as he takes a seat. “Yer lil’ plan involin’ the prince. How's it goin’?”
“You came here to ask about the plan that you’re not involved in.” She narrows her eyes at them, and Harry holds back a sigh, suddenly wishing for the conversation to be over. Mal rolls her eyes, “Fine, fine. It’s going fucking slow. We had to get Carlos to figure out what we were going to make and tonight we’re going down to make cookies.”
“Chocolate chip.”
Evie smiles at Gil from the bed as he brightens up at the mention of chocolate, another favourite since arriving. His first mate nods, staring into the distance. “So,” he asks, “Tonight? Don’t you need like, baking and stuff?”
“We’re allowed in the kitchens at all times,” Mal says, “We asked last night. Get use of the ovens and everything. Apparently stress baking is something.”
“Stress baking?” Gil frowns.
“It’s one of their stress relief things,” Mal rolls her eyes, and Evie makes a sound under the covers, smothering the laugh before it evolves. “As if eating and resting could be stressful.”
She sneers the word with enough vitriol it's easy for Harry to see what lessons he’d skipped out on in Goody Two Shoes Class during his absence. Gil snickers to himself, amused as ever as Mal whips a ruler at them, the thunk of it hitting the wall behind them almost as funny as the idea as Mal getting lectured about stress. As if the Auradonians know anything about the meaning.
She throws a hand upwards, blowing strands of hair away from her face. “It’s this new bullshit thing Fairy Godmother is trying to have us do. Like, what bullshit. Resting. We rest. We rest all the fucking time.” She gestures to Harry, “You took a fucking week hiding away in that fucking cubby hole of a room and no one said shit.”
Gil tilts his head, confusion in his voice. “You said resting was for bitches and tried to throw your pencil at Carlos.”
Mal rolls her eyes. “Yeah,” she huffs, clearly amused with the reminder. “Then when I did, they gave me six fucking detentions. Not even the Doctor as that fucking ridiculous.”
The mention of the Principle forces a shudder through Harrys body as he recalls their own schools. Whatever idea Auradon had on The Isle seemed skewed at best, and downright wrong if their beliefs were anything to go on. Fairy Godmother nearly fainted when they had admitted in their third Goodness class that none of them, save for Carlos, had stepped into their respective schools in years. Before last month, receiving the invitation for Auradon, the idea of school hadn’t crossed Harry’s mind since his last day. It was just another place, another meeting ground, a refuge to some, in a different way his own crew was, impersonal, where the adults were there to pass the time and the students lazed about bullshitting assignments to get out of the cold.
He hadn’t gone to school with the rest of them to Dragon Hall, where Mal had ruled with her Mother’s name but the waterlogged walls of Serpant Prep were probably more similar to Mal’s than to anything here. Classrooms with more chairs than desks, maps pinned to walls between flags and drawings. He had never deigned so much as to sleep there, certain his Father would’ve done something more than just a detention. Doing half of the shit they pulled back then was more than adequate to send Auradon into fits.
He tunes back into the conversation, a one sided rant on Mal’s side, just as she makes a face in mockery. Gil solemnly nods along and he holds back the urge to hit him over the head. “-as if sleeping isn’t resting. Like, what the fuck is it then? I followed their shit advice and got in trouble. Fuck them.”
“No thanks,” Harry jokes sardonically. “Anways, back to the plan. That’s it? Yer going to stress bake and give the prince some fake cookies? How does that help anyone?”
Mal’s deference turns sour as his questions trail off, eyes darkening. “First of all, this is my fucking plan so I don’t need your port mouth telling me shit, but no, that’s not all.”
“So?”
She narrows her eyes. “So what.”
He spreads his hands out, eyebrows raising in question. He shoots for a look between mocking and arrogant, and going by Mal’s growing scowl he hits it with ease. “So,” he mocks, Mal’s hands clenching into fists, “I don’t care what fuckery ye got going on but I’m not going to get into trouble for some half thought plan. So what is it?”
“Why would I tell you?” She snaps, “The agreement once we got here was that you’d leave me the fuck alone and I’d do the same.
“That was before we got into this fuckery. I’m not going back to that dump to die when we have a chance here.”
Mal tilts her head. “Oh? Is that it? You want to stay here? In this goody two shoes place just because it feeds you?” Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“As if. But getting sent back because ye mess up a shite baking plan is not what I ‘ave planned. It’s been a week, and all ye have to show for it is a plan to bake.”
“Then what’s yours?” Mal questions. She criss crosses her legs, brow raising into her hairline. “This is a two way street, fucko, you want my plan, tell me yours first.”
Gil shoots a worried look between them, frowning. Harry sighs, slumping back in his seat. His head still hurt from his episode, and the idea of detailing his entire plan seemed as dangerous as it was tiring. He hadn’t accepted the invitation with no intentions, with no plan, but the comparison to Mal’s own was ridiculous, even before she said it.
“Lemme guess, ye still wanna break everyone off the Isle an’ use the Fairy’s wand to do it, hm?” He questions. Mal tenses, only for a moment, before scowling and Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes again. “And how the fuck would that work? Maleficent is a grade A cunt, and you know it, there’s no definite plan that could factor her comin’ directly for Beast, and then, bam, we’re all in prison and rotting while everyone else gets hunted down and paraded back to the Isle.”
Mal purses her lips, and Harry knows he’s hit a mark. None of their parents are a reliable fall back. Hell, half of them would probably take the first chance to just run instead and wait out the manhunts until they could get some revenge. Or better yet, they attempt their revenge before they get arrested again and thrown right back.
“It’s a work in progress,” she starts, arms crossing over her body. “Mother told me I had to get the wand, so I’m getting the fucking wand, and I’m setting everyone free. I don’t care if I go to jail, Mother won’t let me remain there. Not once she’s finished with Beast.” She shrugs, and clenches her jaw, avoiding Evie’s gaze as she stares at the floor, then back up to Harry, eyes defiant. “It’s a shitty plan, I know that, but I don’t have much else to go off of do I?”
He shrugs, just as lost as her, not that he’d admit it. If Mal didn’t follow her Mother’s orders, they would have to ensure that they never went back, not for a second. Nothing would stop Maleficent once she realized she was betrayed, not even her own daughter and Harry feels something akin to sadness as he looks at the fae. She was still too skinny, even for his Isle crew, but now, even as she practically glowed with health of eternal magic, it was easy to see whatever Maleficent had planted in Mal’s mind was taking more than just a toll.
He sighs, and clicks his tongue. Shrugging. “Mine is no grand thing. I jus’ wanna loosen the guards enough to get my crew out, figure out how the open the barrier to get those barges across an’ use it to get my people. Nothin’ flashy. I donnae even know if they’d come but it’s what I’m goin’ on.”
“The barges?” Evie asks quietly. Her hair is now braided back, the blank look in her eyes replaced with a thoughtful one. “The food you mean? How would that matter? I thought they could pass through the barrier without opening it.”
Harry shakes his head. “Nah, they have to open it, ye can see it from the docks when it’s dark, but they’re careful, a kid tried a few years back an’ got shot when they saw him clinging to the side.”
“I’ve never heard of that happening,” Mal says, frowning now. She glances at Gil, but the blond simply stares at the ceiling with fervour. Harry runs a hand thru his hair. At least he hadn’t known the boy like Gil had, but the bang that had echoed through the wharf was enough to stop any other attempts. “But they have to break the barrier to go through, right? So what, you steal what device opens it and you get your crew out and leave everyone else to rot?”
The pirate shrugs again. He didn’t have anything concrete past the theft. “Eh, I was thinking if I did it away from the wharf, and instead the north side of the island where they donnae check, then maybe I can keep it open somehow, and the Isle can empty bit by bit, but that would take time and I dunno if we have that once the first people make it to land.”
Evie nods, casting a look at Mal. “It sounds good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Mal admits through gritted teeth, eyes flashing. “It’d be helpful if we fuckin’ knew that, dumbass.”
Harry tilts his head, waving his hook. “Eh, donnae want yer grand plans to knock mine off course. Yer’s is faster, and the payoff is better if ye manage it. We haven’t even been able to see the docks and we’ve been here for almost two weeks.”
“Yeah, well maybe next don’t deck the first asshole that pisses you off, Red Eyes.”
Harry makes a face at her, getting one in return as they settle into silence again. His headache is still there, tempered now with the lack of sunlight and Gil looks happy as a clam sitting and rebraiding his belt next to him.
Evie pulls a device out from under her pillow, one of the fancy tech phones Auradon has everywhere. “It’s almost dinner time. Are we going?” she asks.
Harry and Mal trade looks. None of them had gone to the messhall since Harry’s fight, as they called it, had occured. Though Harry doubts it’s all for the same reason.
“Eh, probably not. Got enough snacks from the vending machine downstairs,” he says.
Evie glances at her crew leader. Mal sucks her teeth, sighing. “Uhm, no. Those fucks are annoying anyways.”
Gil nods somlemly. “They really are.”
“Why?” Harry asks. “Askin’ too many questions?”
Mal shrugs, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “They’re annoying as fuck on a good day, nevermind this bullshit.”
Harry laughs, “What ye’ve been avoiding fresh meals ‘cause they askin’ questions?”
“What?” No!” Mal splutters, “Those fucks don’t know how to take no for an answer. Any time I see them they’re tryin’ to drag me off to talk to you when you were fucking around and sleeping all day. They’re a bunch of nosy fucks, that’s all.”
“Talk to me?”
Gil nods when Harry turns to him. “We ended up taking turns doing things, else Uma would’ve kicked our door down. Mal suggested it.”
Harry turns to look at the fae, catching the furious blush staining her cheeks before she ducks her head down. Well, that answers that. He glances at Evie, getting a sweet smile in return and shrugs. What’s done is done. He’d be more offended if none of them had done anything while he took the time away somehow. The truce the other day must have worked, and from Mal’s reaction she wasnt eager to break it, not even for the food Auradon offered.
Harry shoves the thoughts away as he glances at Gil again. “Cool. Anyways, the plan tonight, it’s to bake? Cookies?”
Evie nods. “Yup, we have a recipe Carlos found. They only take like, an hour max, and Mal’s got a love potion to put in them.”
“Are you going to make just regular cookies though?” Gil asks.
Mal makes a low noise. “Dunno. Might burn the entire dorm down first. Fucking kitchen is complicated, I almost miss the ones at home.”
Harry snorts, “Yeah with the gas that didnt turn on half the time? Or the coal we’d have to steal?”
“Talk about yourself,” Mal snickers, “Mother had a gas stove. She wasn’t going to eat street food.”
Gil laughs, knocking his shoulder against Harry’s. “Imagine if we had one on the boat! We should steal one, Bonny’d be able to do it.”
“Yeah, and Bonny’d be the one to break it after burnin’ my girlie down.” Harry argues much to Gil’s amusement. “Fuckin’ half of ye canny so much as steer, nevermind keeping the flammable thing from going up in flames.”
“I can see it now,” Mal scoffs, brushing a pale hand through the air before her. “Local boy burns down house and dock because of soup. Local orphans are now homeless once more.”
Harry tosses a piece of fabric at her, rolling his eyes as she catches it but doesn’t argue. His crew really was bad enough with no flames already. Anything more and they’d really do something unfixable. “Anyways,” he tries again, “The plan tonight is just cookies, then tomorrow ye…?”
“Poison princey boy,” Evie smiles, “We just have to make sure he’s looking at Mal and then boom, he’s in love! It’ll be adorable.”
But the fae simply scrunches her nose. “He’s going to be so obnoxious.”
“I-E, easy to manipulate!” Evie cheers, clapping her hands together. “You aced that in school so this should be no problem! You managed to trick me into going to Ms De Vil’s closet successfully, this should be a walk in the park.”
A flurry of emotions flit over Mal’s face at the memory before they’re gone again and she inclines her head. “Yeah, yeah, either way it’ll be annoying.”
A hand taps Harrys thigh, and he looks up at Gil blinking at him. “Can I go help make the cookies. I always wanted to try them.”
He glances at Mal, brows raised. She purses her lips and shrugs. She doesn’t care then. He thinks to the rest of their night, and nods, not needing Gil to teach him how to find those shows he likes anymore. “Sure, but if ye fucking eat a poisoned one, I’m leaving ye.”
Gil pouts as Mal’s sudden laughter rings out, even Evie flushing with amusement.
“And bring me back some. Or I’m locking ye out.”