Know Your Limit; Then Pass It.

[Dastan Cross]

Dastan wanted to be impressed with Astin's discovery. He did. But dammit, he was not feeling well. His nose was stuffed and red, his eyes red and itchy; his throat hurt like a bitch. Simply swallowing was enough to make him want to moan. Even breathing had gotten to be a difficult task, each breath causing him to wheeze, and he never seemed to be able to draw in enough oxygen, thanks to the stuffed nose. Add in the various aches and discomforts, and you had one very unhappy Dastan.

He almost wished Astin had let him die on the top of that Astronomy Tower. Almost. As it were, he'd promised Astin that he would help him study, and that's what he was going to do, even if he felt miserable.

After Astin finally finished pacing in front of the weird painting, the room had materialized and they'd gone in to find a room with about a million random books and a large, comfortable couch. Dastan made a beeline for that. "Oh, Merlin, this is comfy..." Dastan moaned as he collapsed on top of it, sniffling pathetically. "Hand me a book, will you? I don't wanna get up."

[Astin Descartes]

Astin pouted a little when Dastan didn't seem all too excited about his discovery. He'd found a room that gave them anything they needed, and all Das cared about was rushing to the couch! Astin sighed; such was life with people who had colds. Kill-joys.

He threw the box of tissues he'd been carting around at his friend's head, managing to miss and hit the couch; the box fell onto Dastan's chest.

"Hand me a book, will you? I don't wanna get up."

Astin rolled his eyes. "Of course, Dastan. I am your loyal butler, after all." Despite his sarcasm, he obeyed. From one of the seemingly endless bookshelves, he grabbed a few books that seemed like they would be of importance: a book on incantations, a book on wand motion, and a book on advanced spells.

"Move your face," he half-ordered, half-joked upon returning to the couch. He'd rather talk at Dastan's face than his feet, after all.

[Dastan Cross]

Dastan let out an 'oof!' when the box landed on his chest, causing even more discomfort in his already shriveled and pathetic lungs. He glared darkly at his friend, and then accepted the books when he brought them over, trying to move into a more-or-less vertical position. He only half-succeeded.

"My face doesn't seem inclined to obey," Dastan said, and then sneezed into one of the tissues, cursing as the sneeze seemed to ricochet around in his aching skull. He groaned, trying to hoist his knees up onto the couch with the rest of him and to give Astin some space to sit.

"So, where d'you wanna start?" he said, rubbing at his face to try and instill some form of energy back into him. "Did you ever go and get that book from Professor L...L...ACHOO!" Dastan sneezed again, his whole body seeming to contract into a tiny ball with the force of it. He wiped at his nose despite how that sort of stung and then regarded one of the books that Astin had brought over. This was going to be a long day.

[Astin Descartes]

Astin tutted sympathetically, rubbing his friend's back. Sick people were just too sad. He looked around the room. Surely it was smart enough to put a blanket somewhere. Sure enough, he found a quilt-rack beyond one of the shelves. He moved and grabbed the warm, cozy blanket off it before he returned to the couch once more. He really was beginning to feel like a butler. Actually, a nanny was more like it. Who'd have known that Dastan became five all over again once he caught the sniffles?

Astin dropped the blanket on top of Dastan and finally sat against the arm of the couch, pulling all three of the books onto the armrest beside him, away from the ill.

"Das, you're not going to be much good like this. Take a nap, and you can help out if you're a little more alive when you wake up," Astin said firmly. Not resting was only going to make Dastan feel worse. He needed to get some sleep.

Leaving Dastan to do his own thing, Astin opened the book that his friend had previously been looking at rather blankly. He hated studying, but they were running out of time, and Dastan was in no position to do any work at all. For once, he was pleased that he rarely got sick. At least one of them could do something except lie around.

[Dastan Cross]

"M'just fine," Dastan mumbled even after the comfortable blanket enveloped him and caused his eyes to close briefly before he'd opened them abruptly, reaching out and grabbing the book back. He was not an invalid, even if he was sick and pathetic and achy and miserable and...and a number of other unhappy words. "I said I'd help, and I will."

Dastan flipped the book open and clumsily turned several pages, not sure what he was looking for but willing to do it anyways. He'd done a bit of research on most of this stuff on his own before. He just hadn't quite figured out exactly what he'd done wrong besides having not yet declared for dark, but when he'd gone to correct that, he'd nearly gotten himself killed. It looked like he had to go back to the drawing boards, and that was why he was here with Astin.

However, what was the use being in here if he was just going to sleep? If he wanted to do that, he'd have stayed in bed.

Pulling in another wheezing breath, Dastan blew his nose and then turned a few more pages until he was looking at a bit of theory concerning what force spells were and what they did.

"Force spells belong to the Spiritual Spell group, and as such are some of the most magical and powerful spells known. Force spells deal with unseen forces in the Universe which sometimes protect us and other times hurt us.

Everyone has control of the forces around them at some level, but the more force you control the more powerful your force spells can become. When you use these magical forces to create a shield around you, spells cast against you by another person have a much lower chance of success. "

Dastan blinked at the pages, and then sighed, rubbing his face again. Merlin, the words seemed simple enough, so why wasn't it clicking?

"What sort of spell did you say the book told you that you needed?" he asked, trying a different tact. Studying would be easier if he knew exactly what he needed.

[Astin Descartes]

Astin rolled his eyes at his friend's stubbornness. Really, what was he going to have to do?

"What sort of spell did you say the book told you that you needed?"

"I didn't say," he pointed out, busily adjusting the blanket closer to Dastan's body, "But apparently I need to learn how to implode things. And no, I have no idea why the box thinks that's particularly useful for me, either." He shifted on the couch, pulling his knees up the slightest so that he was angled more towards Das. "That seems more your thing, actually."

Astin leaned over Dastan's shoulder to read a few paragraphs. He tapped the last couple sentences with his finger a couple times. "Is this the type of protection spell you need?" he asked, taking the book back from Dastan, any and all protests be damned. "Here, I'll look into it. You go to sleep," he insisted.

This was one thing Astin wasn't budging on, no matter how much Das argued. He looked like death warmed over and left in the sun a few days. He needed rest, no matter how much he denied it.

"The books and I will still be here when you wake up. Now if you don't go to sleep, I'll hit you over the head with one of these stupid things, and you won't have a choice."

[Dastan Cross]

"I didn't say," Astin responded, "But apparently I need to learn how to implode things. And no, I have no idea why the box thinks that's particularly useful for me, either. That seems more your thing, actually."

Dastan smirked despite how god-awful he felt. "That would be quite handy, but apparently, the box thinks I need to master protection and you need to master implosion, and I don't think it'll let us switch. Maybe the box wants us to work on parts of ourselves that we don't generally pay attention to, like my protectiveness and your violence. Besides, I'm sure you don't want to have to declare for Dark like I have to." A shiver passed through him as he remembered his own attempt. He hoped, the second time, it wouldn't nearly kill him.

"Here, I'll look into it. You go to sleep,The books and I will still be here when you wake up. Now if you don't go to sleep, I'll hit you over the head with one of these stupid things, and you won't have a choice."

"Bossy," Dastan said, but a yawn stretched his face and undermined any protest he might have made. He was rather tired. He just hated feeling useless, especially after he'd promised to help. He didn't especially like going back on promises he'd made.

Sighing and pulling the blanket more tightly around him, Dastan laid all the way down and curled into a ball, burrowing his face into one of the pillows on the big comfy couch.

[Astin Descartes]

Satisfied, Astin smiled and nestled into the couch. It felt good to have Dastan curled up next to him, no matter the reason. He rested the book on his lap and reluctantly dove into it.

"Force spells require an intense amount of concentration and energy. They can range in size from almost microscopic to enormous, depending on both the spell and the caster.

"Protection spells, for example, tend to operate on a larger scale; they also have a longer time-span. However, they are more taxing on the wizard than attack spells, and generally render their user all but powerless afterward."

Astin bit his lip as he read this. He didn't like the idea of Dastan being defenseless once he ran out of energy to sustain the spell. He didn't like that idea at all. He wished the box would consider switching their spells. Beliefs aside, he would declare Dark for Das if need be. He sincerely hoped and doubted that such a need would arise, but he was willing.

He shook his head and turned the page. He and Das had completely different ambitions and destinies to fulfill. Of course they wouldn't have similar ways to achieve them.

"Attack spells, on the other hand, are usually quick but often unreliable bursts of energy. Although they are less exhausting than protection spells, they can leave their caster momentarily stunned from shock."

Astin rolled his eyes. Were there any upsides to any of these things? So far, he hadn't read of any.

He absent-mindedly reached out and stroked Dastan's hair, like he did when Marcel was sick. It was second nature; by the time he realized he was doing it, he couldn't bring himself to stop.

[Dastan Cross]

"Dunstop," Dastan mumbled as Astin's fingers moved through his hair; he was sure he might have told him before, but it couldn't hurt to say it again. He loved it when someone ran their fingers through his hair. It was the ultimate comfort for him. It almost made it possible for him to ignore the fact that he was miserable in almost every other way.

Especially since the stuffy nose was making it ridiculously hard for him to go to sleep. He liked breathing through his nose in his sleep. Having his mouth hanging open or snoring were not two habits or states he wished to show to Astin, no matter how close they had come to be. Nobody looked good when they were sick, but Dastan wanted to at least keep some of his dignity in tact. He was sure that Astin would make fun of him forever if he snored or something equally as embarrassing.

[Astin Descartes]

"Dunstop," a hoarse voice mumbled.

Astin smiled fondly at the mess of black hair peeking out from the blanket. Figured that Dastan couldn't even sleep when he was practically dying. Keeping his place in the book with one finger, Astin scooted closer and patted his thigh.

"C'mere," he said in mock exasperation, ceasing the petting momentarily. Hand hovering above Dastan's head in wait, he commented, "I figured you'd be asleep already. You look like crap-- no offense, but you really do." He touched the back of his hand to Dastan's forehead. "And it feels like you don't feel much better, either."

Astin rested the book next to him with his finger still between the pages. "Anything else I can do to help?"

[Dastan Cross]

Dastan moved so that his head was resting on the offered thigh, snuggling into the comfort that said thigh represented and throwing one of his arms across the other boy's lap, misconceptions be damned. He wasn't feeling well, and he saw o reason not to bask in whatever sort of comfort was offered to him.

"Anything else I can do to help?"

"Read out loud. Tha' way I'wont feel so useless," Dastan said. He was also hoping that what he heard was so boring it would knock him out despite the things that ached and were trying their hardest to keep him from finding solace in the backs of his eyelids. And maybe, he'd fall so deeply asleep he wouldn't snore. That would be nice.

[Astin Descartes]

Astin resumed petting Dastan's hair, working gently through the dark tresses. It was always relaxing just to run his fingers through someone's hair, and Dastan's was ideal. He didn't know what about it was so addicting, but it was.

"Read out loud. Tha' way I'wont feel so useless."

Astin almost groaned but managed to contain himself. He'd rather hoped that it would be something to distract him from the whole studying thing, but he did need to get down to work. He knew that once he begun, he'd likely not stop until he succeeded; it was just the beginning that was proving difficult.

"Alright," [Astin consented begrudgingly. He laid the book back out on his lap and flipped a couple pages, unsatisfied with his current ones' content. Ah, here... Casting Force Spells...

"Casting a Force Spell requires preparation and dedication from an extremely experienced wizard or witch." Well, that was promising. "Oftentimes, the Force Spell is specific to each individual, although close relationships have sometimes been shown to have some bearing on the type." That was weird. He considered himself and Dastan to be rather tightly knit, all considered, but their spells were nothing alike... he reconsidered what Das had said earlier, about the box trying to bring out their less-addressed feelings. Perhaps...

After all, when something hurt Dastan, he tended to react violently. He wondered if Dastan felt the need to shield him from harm. That would be... fantastic, for lack of a better word. But he couldn't just outright ask suddenly. That was weird, and what if he was wrong? Awkward.

Astin continued reading, "Such customization and variety of Force Spells is the partial reason for their difficulty level. Most are incapable of mastering such advanced magic." Astin glared at the book. It was such a downer! How could a book be so depressing? He slammed that one shut and tossed it on the ground, picking up the next one. Screw that book.

[Dastan Cross]

A slow smile formed on his lips as Astin tossed the book down, his eyes still closed as he attempted to try and get to sleep. "Makes sense, what it says. But when 'm told that 'm incapable of somethin', it jus' makes me wanna do it even more."

Dastan yawned again and then nuzzled into Astin's thigh like it was a pillow and sighed comfortably. He wondered how hard this spell was going to be; like, really. The book seemed to think it was impossible; well, he'd prove it wrong sure enough. He just wondered how difficult it was.

He'd thought he'd had it down when he'd used it to protect Astin from Dolohov, but clearly that hadn't been the case. He knitted his eyebrows in thought. Even that little pathetic leak had taken a lot out of him. Honestly, the only reason he hadn't swooned or fainted was because of how worried he'd been for his friend.

But if even that little leak had been difficult, he couldn't begin to imagine how hard it would be to cast the whole thing without passing out completely. Perhaps that was the reason for the need to declare for Dark. If one was declared, then the Dark would lend some extra strength to a dark spell. That, at least, would certainly take some of the edge off. But how much of the edge?

Dastan didn't know. "What's the next book say?" he mumbled sleepily.

[Astin Descartes]

"Makes sense, what it says. But when 'm told that 'm incapable of somethin', it jus' makes me wanna do it even more."

Astin scoffed. "Oh, you rebel, you," he teased, reaching for the next book. Das nuzzled his leg; that quite effectively warmed Astin's heart to the very core, to say the least, and made him sigh contentedly. He liked small gestures like that more than anything.

"What's the next book say?"

Astin opened it and scanned the first page.

"Incantations are important and useful, blah blah blah..." He flipped through the book, but it seemed to be a good six hundred pages of the same crap. "This is bull," Astin muttered, tossing that one down on top of the other one. "And the last one's about wand movement, before you ask. And yes, there is an entire tome on it." He settled deeper into the couch, not particularly wanting to get up and disrupt Dastan's peace. Why wasn't Accio less specific? He could just Accio "useful information" and be done with it, without even having to move.

He sighed and focused more on the pleasant feeling of Dastan's hair beneath his fingertips. No use getting worked up. They had a whole library on things like that to their advantage.

"I think instead of a book on incantations, I'm just going to make do with a normal Latin dictionary. I don't think I need someone else telling me what to call my spell."

[Dastan Cross]

"I think instead of a book on incantations, I'm just going to make do with a normal Latin dictionary. I don't think I need someone else telling me what to call my spell."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Dastan said around a yawn, "What's important is the intent, feeling and imagery."

Dastan sneezed forcefully again, his whole body convulsing on top of Astin. He groaned, "Merlin, this is miserable!" and then sighed huffily, rubbing at his face which felt like it was covered in grime and nastiness from the sweat that was beginning to glisten on his dark skin. "Gashes, concussions, lashes, bruises, and broken bones I can deal with, but this sickness is the sickest kind of torture."

He meant, it too. He'd been through all of that stuff. And this still felt more awful. He couldn't breathe without his nose stopping up, couldn't blink without his eyes hurting or itching, couldn't swallow without his throat screaming loudly in protest, couldn't shift positions without aggravating a number of aches and muscle pains. He hated it. Plus, he was so tired all the time, even when he'd done nothing but sleep, and that made his spell work shoddy at best and he felt helpless and weak all the time.