#HP AU FOR THE WIN

[hiancii]

Written by the victors

[ashwoven]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬: 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝟏-𝟑 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

ᴅʀᴀᴍɪᴏɴᴇ · ᴘᴏꜱᴛ-ᴡᴀʀ · ꜱʟᴏᴡ ʙᴜʀɴ · ᴀꜱʜᴡᴏᴠᴇɴ

Academic enemies. Magical addiction. Reluctant allies. One cursed manor.

the link [again]: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65865115/chapters/169663453

❝ If amortentia smells of love... then linesia reeks of grief. ❞

Hermione Granger is overworked, overlooked, and hungry for something more. When a new magical drug starts claiming lives, her investigation pulls her deep into the secrets of the Department of Mysteries — and straight into the hands of Draco Malfoy.

He’s brilliant. Infuriating. Impossible to trust. And somehow, the only one who can help her understand what linesia really is.

Lines blur. Magic corrodes. Hearts betray.

And somewhere inside Malfoy Manor, something begins to bloom.

ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ & ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ & ᴘʀᴇᴊᴜᴅɪᴄᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ᴅʀᴀᴍɪᴏɴᴇ

[lunar-serpentinite]

hi [shoves aside all the pjo vs hp arguments] do u think harry wld be a son of hecate, nyx or persephone

[fearlessuntamed]

Dirty Blood Dynasties - Chapter 38 (Drinny & Theomione) - English Version

Ginny - Draco Chapter 38: Ignited

Links: FFN - A03 - Music Playlist

English Version

AU. The British wizarding community has been irrevocably shaped by the dark legacy of Lord Voldemort and his fanatical quest for blood purity. In the wake of Voldemort’s death, thirteen ruling dynasties have taken up the reins, zealously guarding the traditions and tenets of a society that’s both rigidly conservative and caste-divided.

The humdrum life of Ginny Weasley, a young Blood Traitor, is turned upside down when she crosses paths with Draco Malfoy, scion of one of these sacred dynasties. As their disparate worlds collide, her core beliefs are thrown into turmoil, set against a backdrop of political unrest.

[mustelidsinlove]

The Banality of Love by sandwich_tales on AO3

“The essence of totalitarian government, and perhaps the nature of every bureaucracy, is to make functionaries and mere cogs in the administrative machinery out of men, and thus to dehumanize them." After Voldemort wins over Wizarding Britain, Hermione emerges from hiding to undertake a dangerous mission for the now-decimated Order. Using a modified Polyjuice Potion, she adopts a new identity and begins working undercover at the Ministry of Magic, alongside Draco Malfoy.

“Sometimes I think that this isn’t a mirror.” Malfoy’s voice cracked on the last word. He continued, “One of the rooms down here. There’s a veil hanging from a stone arch. You might think, seeing it, you could walk through and appear on the other side. It’d be easy, see. You’d just step right through.” His eyes didn’t waver from the point on which they were fixed. “But the distance from that one side of the veil to the other is farther than you could ever imagine. Sometimes I think. This mirror is really a window. And I’m looking at the real world. The world here is just a nightmare from which I’m trying to wake.” // It was Astoria. Or, more accurately, Astoria and everything she represented, for it did not seem like Malfoy was able to separate the two. He longed for the uninterrupted ease of the life that had been promised to him from birth, the innocent ignorance of it. // "I’d have to fucking kill Longbottom these days if I saw him. And he’d try to kill me. Neville Longbottom! I saw him blubber over that stupid fucking Remembrall his grandmother gave him. How in the bloody hell could I kill him thinking of that, I ask you.” Hermione shrugged. She had little interest in Malfoy philosophizing, years too late. “It’s a war,” she said. “It’s ugly. But it’s for a worthy cause. At least, it’s meant to be.” And I’d bet a sack of Galleons Neville would wipe the floor with you these days, she thought. // “Do you know how they do it? I always wonder.” “Who are you talking about?” Hermione asked, exasperated at his rapid shifts. “Them. Those bloody do-gooders. How they go up against Him. Aren’t they afraid. Or were they just born with something I don’t have.” In another life, Hermione would have laughed in his face. Said, “they were born with a spine and a sense of moral fortitude, unlike you.” But she didn’t say that. She leaned her shoulder against the cool stone of the boulder. They’d drifted near each other as they talked. Only a curtain of steam parted them. She rested her chin on her hands, studying him. Hermione understood now why he’d worn his hair slicked back all those years ago. When his hair was loose, his cowlick inevitably flopped over his eyes. Her fingers itched to push it back. It had always annoyed Harry and Ron, her penchant for perfectionism, her need to fix ties, straighten uniforms. “Maybe they—maybe you’re not so different. Maybe they’ll do anything to protect the people they love,” she said, finally, thinking of Ron, the Weasleys. “Or maybe some of them have nothing left to lose,” she added. Lupin’s haggard face came to mind, Snape’s profile in the dim dawn light. The blank look on her parents faces after the Obliviation had took hold. “And maybe some of them,” she said finally, “maybe a few of them do it because they really care about the difference. Between good. And evil.” Poor Harry, she thought. His lot was the simplest and the hardest. Malfoy’s throat worked as he swallowed, hard. “Sometimes. Snape. I doubted him,” he confessed. “I thought. Perhaps he really was a traitor. But then—he would���ve told me. Wouldn’t he? He couldn’t have been working to—to kill me, my family, all this time. And then I think, I wish he had told me. Maybe then, things could have been…different.” He laughed as if it were the funniest joke on earth. “How’s that for traitorous?” Hermione held herself perfectly still. Malfoy was a spinning top, wavering, wobbling. He’d been so accustomed to dissemblance that the mere suggestion of honesty induced vertigo. She could help him tip, help him fall. If she wanted to. “What do you think could have been different?” // “The tree of the knowledge of good and evil,” Malfoy repeated skeptically. “Muggles think they know the difference, then.” “I think,” Hermione said, “the idea is that once you know the difference, you can never unknow it. You can only pretend.”

My absolute favorite Voldemort-wins scenario. Incredibly thoughtful, vividly and fiercely imaginative, with complex characterizations, wonderful writing, and perhaps one of my all time favorite Dracos. I only wish there were more (and still hold out eternal hope!).

Art:

(1) The Sun is Passing the Sign of Virgo, Mikalojus Konstantinas Čiurlionis, 1906-1907

(2) The Garden of Earthly Delights (detail), Hieronymous Bosch, c. 1490-1510

[template]

[tokruta]

someone who is good at psychology help me understand why i adore jegulus with all my heart but don't like drarry outside of very specific aus

please my family is dying (my ability to read jegulus lives aus is heavily compromised)

[imtakenbytheview]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by takenbytheview on AO3 (@imtakenbytheview)

Chapter 1 of my new WIP Dangerous Game, a dark AU, is now live on AO3.

“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘴. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘴. 𝘜𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘝𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘵’𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘛𝘰 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘥’𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦—𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵. 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘏𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘏𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴. 𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦?

Come for the angst, stay for the female rage. Please mind the tags. Fully outlined but no schedule – running entirely on adrenaline and coffee and vibes here.

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Puzzle by we_built_the_shadows_here (@we-built-the-shadows-here) Pairing: Severus/Lily Rating: T Word Count: 143k Three years after Voldemort visited Godric’s Hollow, Lily now lives under the protection of loyal Death Eater Severus Snape in a world ruled by the Dark Lord’s conquest. But the Order of the Phoenix is not completely eradicated, and two names are beginning to return to her: Harry and James.

[verflares]

i do need to try drawing rito's using their bows but honestly. i was getting my ass beat by the warhawks in the snowfields while i was playing elden ring i honestly dont think they need the extra help

[schmem14]

Day 6: Collaring

Summary: Voldemort celebrates his victory by acquiring a new pet. Pairing: Voldemort/Rubeus Hagrid CW: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Voldemort Wins AU, MCD, Pet Play, Rape/Non-con, Dubious Consent, Sex Slave, Trauma, Grief, Whipping, Horcruxes, Brainwashing, First Person POV Rating: E

Written for @hpkinktober

[jadedandconfusedao3]

Make it hurt, my pet

Regulus’s breath caught in his throat. Panic threatened to overcome him as he struggled to keep his expression blank and his mind clear. Voldemort’s gaze had instantly locked on him the moment Sirius was dragged into the room. He looked terrible. His lip was split badly, and his mouth was full of blood. It ran down his chin in a sickeningly thick stream. He was covered in cuts and bruises as though he’d been dragged behind a horse. As Regulus looked up and saw Fenrir’s smug expression Regulus realised that he had been dragged, behind a wolf.

Before he could second guess himself, he took two steps down from where he stood on the dais next to Voldemort and slapped Sirius hard across the face. Sirius fell with a sickening thud to the ground and Regulus knelt and fisted a chunk of Sirius's hair in his hand. He stabbed his wand into the delicate skin underneath Sirius’ throat and snarled.

“You dare show yourself in front of me?” he hissed. “After everything you’ve done!”

Sirius’ eyes flickered, the only sign he had heard a word.

Voldemort laughed. A chilling sound.

“Such a pleasant display of brotherly love. Make it hurt, my pet.”

Regulus stepped back and raised his wand.

“Cruicio.”

The red light hit Sirius right in the chest and he collapsed to the floor as his muscles seized. His back arched in agony and his limbs shook with the force of it. Sirius’s screams filled his ears and echoed around the empty space that he had forced into his head. Regulus poured all his hurt and pain into the curse. To do any less would be to invite his Lord’s wrath. He did not become who he was by taking foolish chances because his heart demanded it.

“Enough.”

Voldemort's command was soft, meant to test whether Regulus was paying attention even now. Regulus dropped the curse instantly and fell back to wait for his Lord’s orders.

“Perfect. Always so perfect, Black. You are truly a boon to me.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Regulus dipped his head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

“Hmm,” Voldemort mused. “What shall we do with him now? Perhaps he should go to the werewolves. Though I don’t know how much of a punishment that would be. He does seem to enjoy their company.”

Fenrir snarled and stepped forward. “I can guarantee he won’t like it, my Lord.”

The panic threatened again, and Regulus forced himself to reply.

“I would like to invoke my right of claim.”

Every pair of eyes in the room refocused on Regulus. In response, Regulus drew himself up taller and made his eyes colder. He would not show them fear.

“He is of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. I believe with some retraining, even he can become useful again.” Regulus sneered. “And if all else fails, he can be used as breeding stock.”

The room laughed at that, even though it made Regulus sick to his stomach. Voldemort stared at him with dead lifeless eyes and Regulus could feel the prickling sensation of his mind's magic, testing his defences. Inside, Regulus was an empty wasteland, nothing but sand as far as the eye can see. Cold, desolate and completely alone. After what felt like an age, he relented.

“All right, my pet. I leave him in your hands. Keep me informed of his progress.”

Regulus stepped back forward and fisted his hand back in Sirius’s hair before he turned on the spot and apparated away.

As he felt the magic pull him, he heard Voldemort whisper, “Do not disappoint me.”

Read the rest on Ao3

This is my dead dove account for all the dark stuff that I don't want on my main.

[ratdaisy]

This is one of my favorite HP fics! 🥰 It's epic! I highly recommend it! I love how the friendship between Hermione, Ron, and Harry was developed here! It was so sweet and fun to read!

The Man in Toulouse (E) Ron/Hermione, Grindelwald Wins AU. Amazing cover art by @keerthi-draws

When Grindelwald defeated Dumbledore in 1945, a totalitarian regime rose in Magical Europe and Sang Law ruled.

Hermione Granger has been hunted her entire life, living amongst the other unregistered Muggleborns and half-bloods in the Underground. After an incident in a Muggle shop, Hermione must run, reliant on a curious Sangless Runner who saves her from the Viribus dedicated to upholding Sang Law.

Chased by ruthless Hunters, Hermione has to decide if she can trust Ron Weasley as they make their way to the legendary Man in Toulouse.

Inspired by the television show “The Man in the High Castle”, as well as the book “1984” and other dystopian works of fiction, this story explores a world where the Axis powers won World War II and Grindelwald proved victorious.

Now Complete!

Read it on Ao3

[zoe-oneesama]

Hey Zoe sorry to disturb you if you are busy but um is Angelic layer like Gundam build divers only more expensive and you have to buy your own gaming console to go with it? I've never watched angelic layer so I don't know.

Don't worry babes, I gotchu. (I'll also be explaining this as it happens IN the story). I'll walk you step by step what it takes to start playing Angelic Layer, and give a summary of what gameplay is like at the end.

To start, you need an Egg.

Can't just buy a premade doll, you gotta buy the doll suspended in weird shock absorbent gel that ruins your bathroom.

Different Eggs will have different dolls, though female body type tend to reign supreme in the show/manga (it'll be more even in my AU).

Then, you have to cut the dolls hair.

Hope you're good at wig styling, your doll will have this hair forever~

Then, with an Angelic Layer Laptop and Angelic Layer Rings..thingies, you can customize and activate the doll. This is where you'll set stats, like prioritizing speed or strength, light or heavy.

In the manga, these are never seen again, which makes them super wasteful 🙃The anime at least brings them back when Misaki (the main character) needs to repair her doll, so that's probably where the value comes from.

Now the doll is technically playable, but you still need an outfit. You could probably buy some premade ones from the store, but it's apparently the standard to just make your own, given how Customization is kinda the whole point.

Congrats, you're ready to play! Oh wait, no you're not, you need an Angel Card to enter tournaments. You know, as proof that you're registered (and thus are giving tournament entry fees money~). It doubles as a points card that your winnings go to.

Obviously that's points = MONEY when you're just starting out. And to start out, you need to practice, so, time to rent a practice ring!

As the image says, you need a headset to take control of your angel, which means these practice rings and tournament settings are the only place you can actually play with your angel! 🙃You can't play at home~! (Okay, the anime introduced the idea of home rings but they're obviously massive, like a coffee table, and the one they had was a prototype and I bet the electric bill on that would be insane-)

So that's how the game works - Deus' (players) control their Angels (dolls) with a headset that only works within Angelic Layers. There, they engage in 1 v 1 battles which are won under two conditions - knock your opponent outside of the layer, or knock your opponent's HP points to zero. (both the anime and manga are unclear on what constitutes as a more powerful attack).

Over the course of the original series, terrains were added - ice covered landscapes, an island beach, rocky mountains, the anime added a pirate boat as a setting lol. Since my AU will be taking place full decades after the original, these will be standard from the beginning, with these flat layers only being really present when practicing.

So yeah, despite being called a "game", the level of commitment and money you have to put down to "play" makes it feel a lot more like a sport, and I have some jaded ass biases against certain sports that I'll be exploring with this AU lol, thus my constant jabs at how expensive it probably is despite price never really coming up in the original series.

[fearlessuntamed]

Dirty Blood Dynasties - Chapter 39 (Drinny & Theomione) - English Version

Draco - Ginny Cressida Cunningham - Gideon Cunningham  Hermione - Theodore

Chapter 39: Ultimatum

Links: FFN - A03 - Music Playlist

English Version

AU. The British wizarding community has been irrevocably shaped by the dark legacy of Lord Voldemort and his fanatical quest for blood purity. In the wake of Voldemort’s death, thirteen ruling dynasties have taken up the reins, zealously guarding the traditions and tenets of a society that’s both rigidly conservative and caste-divided.

The humdrum life of Ginny Weasley, a young Blood Traitor, is turned upside down when she crosses paths with Draco Malfoy, scion of one of these sacred dynasties. As their disparate worlds collide, her core beliefs are thrown into turmoil, set against a backdrop of political unrest.

[cheralith]

Hear me out

More on the Blk×hp crossover because it has taken over my life

Okay, Kaiser hears a rumour that you and isagi are dating.

This infuriates kaiser to no end. He doesn't know why it pisses him off. He's being extra mean to you, and you can't seem to figure out why. Don't even get me started on Quidditch. He's got it out for Isagi, he's more aggressive towards poor isagi. What if Isagi gets hurt? You're tending to him and omgg it gets him . Bro is loosing his shit atp.

If he sees you guys together at Hogsmeade on Valentine's day...

I just want to see his ass suffer and when he realizes that it's false information lmfao 🤣 and bro was torturing himself (and poor Ness #nessdeservesbetter😔 #justiceforness) over nothing

Yeahh that's it. Please forgive me if there're any grammatical errors

Take care.

Happy Valentines 💝

characters ; michael kaiser

contains ; hogwarts au, slytherin!kaiser, ravenclaw!reader, gryffindor!isagi, mild violence

happy (late) valentine's day, angel! you've put me in a ditzy because of this ask, so i thank you kindly for feeding into my daydreams i quite like this stupid little white boy <3 (also i said in a previous post that yoichi would be a ravenclaw, but i think he suits gryffindor a lil more ngl esp after ch293 :P)

kaiser would most DEFINITELY be the type of person to let out his anger through his playing, so expect there to be a ton of fouls from him during the gryffindor vs. slytherin match because he just "accidentally" keeps running into isagi, nearly knocking him off his broom more than ounce. it doesn't help that there's been whispers circulating that there's been confirmation of you and isagi officially being a couple after the many speculations from stray eyes that keep a rather close eye on you and him. the golden boy of gryffindor and the ace of ravenclaw... many would agree that you and him would be power couple in the halls of hogwarts, completely disregarding kaiser. it didn't help that evidently, you and isagi got along much better than you and kaiser did, sharing soft smiles and joyous laughter amongst each other rather than hardened glares and quick-witted insults. you were best friends after all, not sworn rivals like you and he were.

slytherin ends up winning the match, kaiser rising victorious by scoring the winning goal to break the tie, but he can't really celebrate his win in full because he sees you later tidying up some wounds and scratches isagi had gotten from the match in the preparation tent. his jaw grits, watching the intimate scene unfurl before him.

isagi hisses through his teeth when you gently place the cotton bud on an open wound on his elbow.

you wince, pulling your hand back. "i'm sorry..."

"no," isagi shakes his head, encouraging you to keep going. "i'm fine, it just stings a bit, 's all..."

you look at him with a doubtful countenance, but dab the alcohol-soaked cotton bud anyway, trying not to notice the way isagi's eyes close in pain. tenderly, you place a band-aid on the skin before you soak another cotton bud and move to the scratch on his cheek, your fingers brushing his reddened cheek (the hue unnoticed by you) when you repeat the process to help disinfect and clean up the small gash.

"he's such a bastard," you mutter softly, "he should've gotten a foul when he nearly knocked you into the hufflepuff stands."

isagi shrugs, "it is what it is."

"is it me or did he seem more pissed than usual?" you inquire, your fingers smoothing over the bandage you've placed over the cut. "like he was taking his anger on you specifically. did you do something to him?"

"hell if i know," isagi sighs, rolling his eyes. "it's hard to read kaiser."

kaiser's eyes narrow as you hold isagi's face in your palm, his nails digging into his palms as he watches you examine him for any spare injuries you didn't tend to. not wanting to infuriate himself with this meddling nonsense, he decides to replace the feeling with pride and glory, stomping out of the tent and replacing the loud throbbing in his ears with the cheers of his fellow slytherins that shout his name in a steady beat as he appears before him.

he bathes in the glory for a bit, letting his ego fill with the approvals of his audience, though from the corner of his eye, he catches a blur of blue and red walk side by side together out of the arena, arm in arm.

on valentine's day, kaiser receives bucketloads of chocolates from his admirers, both known and unknown. he waves them off when ness presents them, going downstairs to fetch some breakfast, only for him to see you hand isagi a medium-sized golden box of chocolates shaped in a diamond that he accepts gratefully, a large smile on his face before he gives you a bag of candies. you go and give your other friends the same chocolates, a small personalized envelope with a card glued onto the front of it, their names all written in a pretty cursive.

he ditches breakfast, deciding he'll eat later and runs up back to his dorm. for some reason this year, unlike the prior ones, he actually shuffles through all the boxes trying to look for a peculiar, diamond shaped one, and he does find it to his satisfaction. he pulls it out so fast from the pile and rips open the card, anticipating a specific someone's name to be signed at the bottom.

... but his face contorts into irritation when an unknown girl's name is read. who the hell is "imogen?"

he tosses the letter over his shoulder, thinking this was stupid. no way did he just spend fifteen minutes attempting to find a box of chocolates from you, knowing the tense relationship between you and him. of course you wouldn't give him any—you weren't even friends! so why the sudden spark of hope...?

kaiser's valentine's day turns even more sour when he tries to distract himself and goes to hogsmeade to fix himself up some firewhiskey, only to see you and isagi in the window of honeydukes, examining candy together. this didn't seem to be a group trip either, considering he didn't recognize anyone else that you were friends with in the store, so you and him must've went together.

right—he nearly forgot. you were a couple now. of course you'd be spending the holiday of love together. that's just common sense.

"you think she'll like this?" isagi asks you, holding up a basket assortment of many candies. "i don't know what she really likes, so i was thinking i'd play it safe and just get her everything."

you grin and throw him a thumbs up. "good move, i think she'd quite like that. maybe throw in that teddy bear we saw earlier."

he nods with a blush on his face that you can only giggle at. you've never seen your best friend so giddy before, especially since he'll be having his first date with the hufflepuff girl in his astronomy class he's been admiring, a pride within you blooming when he told you excitedly this morning that he'd be going to madame puddifoot's soon with her.

"i'm gonna go pay and then go get ready back at my dorm," says isagi as he nudges his head towards the cash register, the gifts he holds in his hands starting to tumble out of his grasp a little. "i'll see you later at dinner to tell you how everything went!"

"good luck! don't be nervous!" you call out to him when he shuffles through the crowd before returning your attention to examine the luxury chocolates they had just imported from belgium.

a shadow looms over you suddenly, and you feel the temperature drop a bit from the air around you. there's an impending sense of doom that pits itself in your stomach, so it doesn't take you too long to discover the identity of the tattooed hand that snatches the box of chocolates you were examining away.

your jaw ticks.

"i was looking at that," you mutter with irritation, slowly turning back around to face a familiar blonde. "... kaiser."

"hm," kaiser merely hums back nonchalantly, eyes flickering over the assortment of flavors indicated on the back. "never thought you'd have such a sophisticated sweet tooth," he mutters as he reads over the unique flavor profiles of each chocolate.

"god forbid someone wants to go out of their comfort zone," you roll your eyes obnoxiously before picking up another box to assess, not wanting to bother to get back the previous one you were holding. of course somehow kaiser makes your life ten times more difficult whenever he was around, even off campus grounds.

the assortments look so tasty, you think, reading over the details of the feuilletine truffle. maybe you should treat yourself this valentine's day, relishing in fancy chocolates and curling up with a good book sounds like your ideal day of rest. you think you deserve an upgrade from the casual chocolates you were used to purchasing for a quick fix...

... until you look at the price of the box of chocolates.

your eyes nearly bulge out of their head when you read the price.

"forty five galleons?!" you whisper-shout under your breath, only loud enough for the man behind you to hear. kaiser's eyes flicker towards your astonished visage. "merlin, was this made out of unicorn hair or something?!"

you sigh and place the box down on the shelf again, choosing to return back to the safety of the generic honeydukes chocolate bar instead of wasting your money on something that'd disappear all too quickly.

"you're not gonna get it?" kaiser inquires as you begin to look for a way out of the chocolates area.

"as if i have that kind of money," you snort haughtily.

"then ask your boyfriend to buy it. it's valentine's day after all," kaiser snarks back, the words coming out of his lips faster than he's able to fully process them. he curses himself in his mind when he realizes what he's said, revealing the fact that your status as a couple wasn't as hidden as some may say.

"huh?" you turn back with a confused look. "boyfriend? what?"

it's kaiser's turn to look perplexed. "your boyfriend?" he repeats and pokes a stray strand of hair from the top of his head to mimic an ahoge. "yoichi isagi? golden boy of gryffindor? sound familiar?"

your brows furrow and you wonder if he's making fun of you.

"yoichi and i aren't dating," you counter back. "who told you that?"

the way kaiser feels relieved feels unnatural, like a giant weight had just been unburdened from his shoulders. he shouldn't even be feeling this heaviness in the first place, but he did and now it's gone just from the mere words that counter his initial belief.

... he still feels relieved, oddly enough.

"i—" kaiser starts, but draws blanks when he attempts to cover up his nasty acceptance of a mere rumor, feeling idiotic he had believed such a thing so fast and so intently. "it's just floating about. since y'know, you guys are so close... and stuff," he mutters hotly.

your lip curls in annoyance. "never thought you'd be one to accept rumors so loosely," you mimic his tone from earlier, crossing your arms. a vein pops in kaiser's forehead at your arrogance, and he opens his mouth to give you a snide response back, but you begin to turn on your heel.

"don't believe such stupid shit so fast," you say, waving a hand to indicate your leave. "it won't do you good in the long-run."

kaiser is eventually left alone in the chocolate aisle, a little flabbergasted at what just happened. he watches you as you exit the store by yourself, choosing not to buy anything while he's in the vicinity. a warmth blooms within kaiser's chest however, when he repeats your denial of a relationship in his head.

"yoichi and i aren't dating."

"they're not dating," kaiser mumbles to himself as he grips the box of expensive chocolates in his hands with a small smile. "yeah... they're not dating."

that evening, you later find a delicately wrapped box placed on your desk with your name on it. you take off the green ribbon and rip open the white wrapping paper and widen your eyes to what's revealed from inside.

it was the box of expensive belgian chocolates you were looking at just hours beforehand. you're astonished, thinking who on earth had spend this much money on you when you try and find the sender of the package, only to be met with a short, mysterious inscription on the back of the box's lid.

"happy valentine's day. eat well and enjoy." —🌹

[mahowaga]

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT FOR THE BEAU IDÉAL OF IDIOCY | N.K. — INTERLUDE II

SUMMARY: you're supposed to be in the stands, eating snacks and talking strategy with your friends, enjoying watching the three champions battle for the triwizard cup. you're not supposed to be entangled in what seems to be your own personal (hell) triwizard tournament.

PAIRING: ravenclaw!nanami kento x hufflepuff!fem!reader | no-nonsense house-elf ryomen sukuna CONTAINS: hp x jjk au, (friends who are) idiots to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, profanity PLAYLIST: the course of true love never did run smooth WC: 6.0k WARNINGS: none, just mc and kento beating around the bush

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— INTERLUDE II: MIDNIGHT GALLIVANTING, IDEALISM AND YOUR LONG-AWAITED FRONTAL LOBE DEVELOPMENT

(You really need to work on your restraint and ability to stick to your own claims, because why have you already made up your mind to go meet Kento at the music classroom at midnight like usual when you’ve just told yourself you need to let him go? You have no control over yourself whatsoever, especially when it comes to Nanami Kento. It’s like you see or think of him and your mind instantly goes ooga booga.

You’re disappointed in yourself, actually.)

It’s been two weeks since you and Kento started practicing dancing together. He’s more lithe and graceful than he gives himself credit for, but you make sure he knows it. You like seeing him look away quicker than you can blink and then turn back to you, his face fully composed, save for the way his ears are selling him out. It’s lovable. (You don’t tell him about his ears. Why ruin a good thing?)

Right now, you’re sitting on one of the stools in the music classroom. It’s twenty minutes to midnight. (You don’t know why you insist on coming so early. Maybe you just hope to impress him with your punctuality.) You’ve started a habit of bringing a candle and a match, tired of straining your eyes with the slivers of fractured moonlight through the glass windows when you try to read the book about dancing. (It’s been quite handy, as much as you hate to say it.)

The book is heavy in your hands. You’re tempted to start reading about the Viennese waltz while you wait, but you seriously doubt it’ll be something you can master within the next seven days, seeing as how you’ve taken two whole weeks just to stop stepping on Kento’s toes while doing a simple waltz (and you’re still stomping all over him).

You sigh and set it aside, onto one of the stands. Haibara’s teasing from earlier in the day still echoes in your head. Well, that plus all of the moments you’ve had with Kento ever since that day on the staircase. You hate remembering that day (because of the trifecta of tragedies, as you like to call it), but you can’t deny that it’s the reason you’ve been seeing more of Kento, which is an opportunity you’re not going to ever turn down.

At first, you were wary around him, unsure of what he wanted, worried that he was silently judging your every move and simply going with you to the Yule Ball out of pity. (He’s told you that it’s not because of pity but because he wants to. Pfft, what a psychopath.) Now, you’re beginning to see things much clearer. The fact that you’re more comfortable around him and not constantly panicking about whether he thinks you’re making a fool of yourself helps loads.

You stand up and walk to the window. It’s snowing out, snowflakes tumbling on top of each other in silence, as if the whole world is holding its breath so as to not disturb it. There is little to no wind, making it all the more ethereal. Eerie, as well. You’ve always found falling snow on a dark winter’s night to be hauntingly beautiful.

As much as you’d like to open the window and reach your hand out to catch the feathery little crystals of ice and watch them melt in the palm of your hand, you stop yourself (the one time your restraint isn’t faulty) and instead lean against the ledge of the stone alcove, gazing out into the wintry landscape.

While you admire the ocean of ice, your thoughts wander. Kento is at the forefront. You’re not surprised. He’s been taking up quite a bit of space in your head, even more than before, when he was simply your accomplished crush whom you fancied from afar. Now, though, he’s more than that. You’re so sure of it.

One thing that tickles your brain like an itch you can’t scratch is his timeliness. To be more specific, his timeliness with you.

Kento is the epitome of perfection, which includes maturity, patience, intelligence, a banging work ethic and, among tons of other things, punctuality. It’s why he’s the Head Boy and a model student and a Ravenclaw and, last but not least, the boy you’ve got the fattest crush known to man on.

The thing is, Kento’s always at least fifteen minutes to five minutes early to everything, unless, of course, there’s an issue that needs addressing immediately - but even then he’ll somehow still find a way to be on time. (Oh, the things that boy would do with a Time Turner.) With you, you notice that he doesn’t force himself to show up too early. In fact, he’s often right on time, cutting it so close that you can’t possibly say he’s exhibiting uncharacteristic tardiness nor can you say he’s being his usual punctual self.

Does this mean he doesn’t value your time?

While that seems to be a completely valid explanation, you think it’s a reach. This is Nanami Kento you’re talking about. If there’s one thing you know about him, it’s that he doesn’t sugarcoat anything and will be straightforward if there’s something he needs you to know, such as whether he thinks you’re worth his time (debatable). You’re not getting that kind of vibe from him (you like to think that you’ve gotten better at reading body language - his body language in particular). No, what you’re picking up is that he does respect you and your time, hence why he’s never too inexcusably late to your late night rendezvous, but he also doesn’t force himself to be so uptight and rigid because, and you’re hoping this won’t make you sound like you wear a tinfoil hat for a living: He’s comfortable with you. He can let his guard down with you just a bit and not have to be the Head Boy everyone sees and respects. He can be himself - Kento. You hope that he’s probably realized that you’re not going to be disappointed in him if he’s thirty seconds late, because you don’t expect him to be the paradigm of flawlessness. You want him to be himself.

Your heart warms at the thought. The feeling spreads to the tips of your fingers and toes, keeping you cozy despite the chill in the air from the dropping temperature. You smile to yourself. You’re hoping you’re right.

It gets you thinking about how else he’s dropped his facade of exemplariness around you. You can only think of a handful (partially because you’re staring at his face most of the time).

Admitting that he can’t dance when he’s supposed to be talented at everything.

Laughing more than you’ve ever seen him laugh before, and it’s always with you.

Letting you see him while he’s tired: hair mussed, eyes heavy with bags, tie loosened, shirt untucked.

Choosing to sit next to you during class even though he’s always sat alone.

Engaging in physical touch that goes beyond what is required of a waltz (you’re never forgetting how his fingers felt on your chin, or the way he looked at you that night).

Slouching in his chair when it’s just the two of you instead of maintaining the image of the straight backed young man that’s expected of him. 

You sit back down on the stool and run your fingers over the leather cover of the book on the stand in front of you. It’s rough to the touch and cold, grounding you with a shock. (You can’t let yourself get too carried away with your own delusional reality where Kento somehow reciprocates your feelings. You need him to say it himself to solidify it.)

The door to the classroom opens a minute after the clock strikes midnight, bringing in a draft of the icy wind that’s been stagnant in the hallways, chilling your exposed legs and raising goosebumps. (You suspect the goosebumps are not because of the air, though.)

Kento enters, stretching his arms behind his head as he walks towards you with purpose. He looks tired, he always does after a long day, and you want to tell him to go to bed and forget about practice. Instead, you just stand and hold his gaze.

The corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly (and your heart beat raises ever so slightly). “Sorry, I’m late again,” he says apologetically, scratching the back of his neck. You notice his tie is completely undone and stuffed hastily into his pocket. “Got caught up with Utahime. You know how she is. She’s worried students are going to sneak contraband into the Ball.”

Your brows raise. You don’t know how Utahime is. But clearly he does. Something sharp pierces through your chest - jealousy? (No, that can’t be. It cannot be. You’ll explode.) You shake the thought. What’s important is that he’s here with you, he made the time to come here, put in the effort and he’s more or less on time. You focus on him, as you should be at all times. (You need professional help.)

A laugh escapes before you can stop it. “Are you serious?” you ask. “The students are going to find a way to smuggle stuff in anyhow.”

He shrugs like What can you do? “Yeah, I know.”

“So-”

“Because she’ll stress herself to death if I don’t do something to help.” He shakes his head as he says it, exasperated. “I have to.”

You press your lips into a thin line. That thing that felt like a knife being driven through your ribs earlier? Yeah, it’s back even though it’s very obviously unwelcome.

“Right,” you say slowly, looking around the room. You don’t want him to see the green-eyed monster possessing your body. That would be even more catastrophic than anything that has ever happened to you. “Is she- is she feeling more at ease now? You know, since you-”

He nods, cutting you off quickly. “Yeah, she’s reassured, at least. We put up some charms around the perimeter. They should hold.” 

The silence is filled with a tension that has been growing between the two of you for two weeks now, but now it’s solid, breathing, standing next to you both like a referee in a wrestling match. 

“For most of the night, anyways,” he adds awkwardly when you don’t make a move to say anything.

What can you say? How do you tell him you’re presently thinking of all sorts of possibilities, including one where he and Utahime are an item and he’s just covering it up because he doesn’t want to let anyone know? (Your imagination is going to get you into a mighty predicament. You really need to reign it in and use the facts at your disposal.)

“Well, that’s good.” The floor suddenly seems very interesting.

He shrugs, stepping closer to you, like he always likes to do. “The least we can do is try,” he says after a beat, but he’s looking right into your eyes as if he can see deep into your soul, as if he’s trying to tell you something - something completely unrelated to the Yule Ball and Head Girl Iori.

You think you’re beginning to pick up what he’s putting down and your face flushes and your heart beats erratically and your stomach bubbles. Is he saying he wants to-

“So, um.” You step away, the proximity making you sweaty and nervous (you really shouldn’t be; it’s been like this for the past fourteen nights, and you’ve been learning to control yourself around him, but this is setting your nerves alight and electricity is buzzing through your veins) and fumble for the book on the stand behind you. “Want to, uh, start practicing?”

His eyes drift to you trying to reach behind yourself blindly, cocking his head. He reaches for your wrist and pulls it forward. The gesture is soft, tender, filled with something you really don’t want to think about right now. (Okay, fine. You do want to think about it. It fills you with euphoria because you’re over the moon that he actually possibly feels something for you.)

But hope is a dangerous thing, and you’re not going to go off on assumptions until you have squeezed the truth from him.

Before you open your mouth to say anything, he murmurs, “I think we’ve practiced enough.”

Your jaw goes slack. Suddenly, you’re very enlightened on everything around you: his hand holding your wrist, his color shifting eyes that always mesmerize you trained on yours, searching, probing for pushback, your own rapid blinking, the heat on the back of your neck and the quickening of your breaths, as if you’ve just run a marathon (maybe in your head, because you are a chronic overthinker about everything related to him).

Stay cool. (An impossible feat.)

Your mind goes to the only thing you can process without overheating from delirium. “You’re right,” you say, nodding sagely despite the blood rushing through your blood vessels at the speed of light. “You’re tired. We should go to bed.”

This doesn’t seem to be what he expected of you. You can tell because his grip on your hand tightens for a millisecond before loosening again, and his eyes widen before they return to normal. You think you see him stifling a smile (at the expense of your unorthodoxy).

Your heart tightens like the bowstring of a recurve bow.

He chuckles softly, dipping his head before meeting your eyes again. “No, I meant-” He pauses, standing up straight and letting go of you. “I mean we can still spend time. Together.” He smiles at you, and the butterflies in your stomach seem to go through mitosis, because they double instantly. You smile back bashfully. “If you want that,” he adds.

Oh.

He’s actually asking you out. There’s no unspoken implication here.

That bowstring snaps, like someone released the arrow. It shoots through the air until it hits the shadows of your doubt and anxiety and jealousy lurking in the darkest corners of the recesses of your mind, shattering them into shimmering dust. You can finally breathe.

Is this real?

You don’t trust yourself to answer him, but you need him to know that you want this. You want to be with him, and you most definitely want to run around the castle after hours with no one else but him.

“I- I’d love that.” You stumble over the words as they catch in the back of your throat like a fish bone you’ve accidentally swallowed. You smile weakly, trying to calm every part of your body without him noticing just how elated you are.

You used to wish for days like this. For Nanami Kento to ask you out (the Yule Ball doesn’t count), for him to smile at you the way he does now, laugh with you instead of wearing that nonchalant mask all the time, to touch you with no regrets, no hesitation, as if he’s wanted this too.

Calm down. You’ll freak him out.

That’s true. You don’t want to scare him off. You don’t want him to find out just how long you’ve yearned for him, and now that you’re getting a chance to live your dreams you don’t want to ruin it by being feral and close to a psychotic breakdown.

Still, when Kento says okay and smiles at you, his smile lines on full display, and takes your hand in his, leading you out of the classroom, candle and book be damned, your lips can’t help but curl upward in tandem with the rosy hue coloring your cheeks.

Sukuna tells you that you are truly an odd specimen of a human being and that you’re a chronic overthinker within minutes of you walking into the kitchens.

In Sukuna’s defense, he hasn’t realised that you’ve brought a guest with you this time. (Yes, the first place you decide to take Kento, because he gave you the choice to pick a spot to go, is the Hogwarts kitchens.) Kento probably thinks that you’ve got a roaring appetite at all times of the day, seeing how it’s half past midnight and you’re sniffing around for a tray of spring rolls.

The house-elf is so used to seeing you on your own little solo endeavors when you come to talk to him and occasionally rant about the things in your life that when he catches sight of you he immediately thinks that you must be here to vent. So he launches into a monologue about how wisdom chases you but you move faster and that Master Nanami would tell you how he felt without you having to ask while you stand there with Kento’s hand in yours, your face growing redder by the second.

Kento, when you shoot him an uncertain glance, appears to be enjoying himself, the grin on his face an addition to his handsome face. You tear your eyes away from him and focus on trying to find a way to tell Sukuna to look up from the pot of soup before he incriminates you even further.

“Master Nanami does not worry about such fickle things, young miss,” the house-elf says, stirring the pot with practiced efficiency, not even sparing you a single glimpse.

Oh, how you wish the earth would open and swallow all three of you whole. (No witnesses.)

Kento leans down close to your ear. “I really don’t,” he whispers. It sends a chill down your spine and you freeze up.

“It’s been two weeks, young miss,” Sukuna continues. He lifts the spoon to his mouth to taste, then juts his lower lip outward in a sort of resigned satisfaction, like it’s not great, but not terrible. “If Master Nanami hasn’t mentioned anything to you for this long, then you are thinking too much.”

He’s not wrong. You can always count on Sukuna to lay down the concrete of honesty and verity.

Tonight is proof that Sukuna is actually the wisest person you’ve ever met. (Maybe even a prophet.) Two weeks ago, and even during your visits in between, Sukuna has been telling you that you’re an overthinker, that you’re way too in your head about how Kento sees you, and that he isn’t the type to beat around the bush when it comes to how he feels. You’re pretty sure him wanting to spend time with you despite cancelling your dance session (which is, arguably, the only reason you’ve been meeting up with him so late at night) is rock solid evidence of whatever goes on behind his eyes.

That doesn’t mean that this isn’t a completely implicating situation to be in: Sukuna talking about your crush and your own doubts and fears while said crush is standing next to you, his fingers laced with yours, appearing calm and cool and in no way shocked at what the house-elf is saying about him. In fact, he seems to be amused.

You need to catch Sukuna’s eye and get him to stop. Your hands are beginning to sweat, and you want to scream - Kento probably feels how slick your hand has gotten, but he’s such a gentleman that he’s simply bearing with it.

Sukuna turns suddenly, pointing at you with the spoon in hand. “You, young miss, have to stop bothering with trivial matters.”

His garnet eyes widen when they land on Kento’s lean frame. You can tell Sukuna’s about to self-combust, having been caught talking about someone without knowing the person was in the room. Diversion. Distract Sukuna. You’ll miss him dearly if he explodes into thin air.

You clear your throat hurriedly, almost choking on a stray ball of phlegm that decided to spawn out of nowhere, waving your free hand wildly in a gesture of calm. (It is not calming.)

“Sukuna!” you exclaim through gritted teeth, your eyes wide. “This is Kento.” You gesture to him with your free hand.

The elderly house-elf gains his composure quickly. He straightens his back and nods. “Master Nanami,” he says, not unkindly. “What a pleasure. Sukuna didn’t see you come in.” He shoots you an accusatory glance, like Why didn’t you warn me? You lift both your shoulders, You didn’t give me a chance!

Kento nods in return. “Hello, Sukuna. It’s okay, she snuck me in here.” He lifts your joined hands. “She talks about you a lot,” he adds, nudging your shoulder.

(You do talk about Sukuna and your adventures in the kitchen quite a bit. Probably more than any sane person would care to listen to.)

A blush spreads across your cheeks and you avert your eyes from the both of them.

Sukuna seems pleased, his mood turning a complete one-eighty, and you even catch him shooting you an almost imperceptible smile of fondness. He returns his focus to Kento, placing the spoon on the countertop and turning the stove off. “You know, Master Nanami,” he begins, crossing his arms. “It seems the Hogwarts champion is upset with you.”

You mirror Kento’s expression of puzzlement. Suguru was mad at Kento? For what? That can’t be.

When Kento asks just that, Sukuna shakes his head, almost in disappointment. “Oh, yes indeed. Master Geto stormed in here late the other night and ransacked a tray of freshly prepared chocolate pudding. Kechizu was not pleased.” He huffs. “Master Geto had tears streaming down his face.”

This confuses the two of you even more. Suguru was crying because of Kento? You wonder if Kento did something and just never told you.

To interject with some very important details: in all your admiration - stalking - of Kento from afar, you’ve never really seen him interact with Geto Suguru with the type of warmth one exudes with friends. It’s safe to say they are most definitely not ‘besties’. So, to conclude, Kento may well have done something to make the sanctimonious champion of Hogwarts burst into tears - and he might’ve even enjoyed it. (Wow, where did that assumption come from?)

It looks like he’s equally confounded, though. “Why?” he asks, cocking his head to a side, his brows pulled together. Your fingers are still snug between his - he’s not letting go anytime soon it seems, no matter how much you want to step back and wipe your hand dry.

“He says that Master Nanami took points from Slytherin and then he argued with that young miss from Gryffindor about it.”

Oh, so that’s what happened. Kento told you about it that day on the staircase, when he took your tie and pulled you out of the steps. He’d docked points from Slytherin because Toji had called you a Mudblood. Back when he’d you you’d brushed it off, partially because you were too overwhelmed by the day’s events that it had just rolled off your back, but now - now it’s hitting you like a lead ball. Did he actually do that for, God forbid, you?

(If Haibara was here right now, witnessing this glorious exchange and seeing your frontal lobe come into fruition right before his very eyes, you would be a dead woman walking. This would be extra fuel for his teasing wagon.)

Kento’s entire demeanor changes. He rolls his eyes, teeming with displeasure. “Of course he would be upset about it even though what Fushiguro did was absolutely unacceptable.” There’s a hint of carefully restrained anger laced into his words. Your eyes dart towards Sukuna, who’s looking at Kento while chewing on his lower lip with a sense of detachment, as if he really couldn't care less about anyone’s thoughts on the matter. (Sukuna is simply the messenger, the vessel - probably Sukuna’s thoughts.)

You’ve never seen Kento like this. Maybe you should try to calm him down, though it seems you’re the only one in the bustling kitchen’s entirety who notices the suppressed anger and irritation radiating off of him.

“Okay, Kento,” you say carefully, holding his arm with your other hand. “Maybe we should-”

His eyes dip to your hand curled around his bicep before meeting yours, something like a twisted satisfaction swirling in his hazel eyes.

“What?” His tone is even now, any trace of his annoyance from seconds before gone in the blink of an eye. “Geto’s an arrogant ponce. It’s so like him to be irked about the house losing points when there’s a valid reason for it to happen.”

You try to stay neutral, though Kento’s really making credible points right now. Suguru has always been nice to you in the fleeting moments you’ve passed by him in the hallways, shooting you a charming smile (not to mention his other half, AKA the prized seeker of Slytherin, AKA Gojo Satoru, walking right beside him, grinning at you madly) and nodding his head at you after Hufflepuff wins a quidditch match. The least you can do is try to defend his honor.

You feel a sense of déjà vu - you’d literally had to do the very same thing two weeks ago when Sukuna had complained about Suguru wandering into the kitchens uninvited.

Geto Suguru owes you big time.

“Come on, Kento,” you croon. “Suguru’s not that bad and you know it.”

You pull your fingers away from his, hastily wiping the sweat away. The way he quickly glances at your now divorced hands with a subtle frown doesn’t go past you. You feel bad, but you fear if you didn’t do it he’d be holding a mini ocean in the palm of his hand in the near future.

He raises a brow at you as if in objection. “I know him,” he says with exasperation. “He lives for theatrics and doesn’t know when to take accountability and thinks that I exist to punish Slytherin.”

Your eyes widen at his words. It sounds like Kento knows more about Suguru than you do. He really said Take that, sucker to you and laid down the facts for you to see.

Suddenly your words affirming the Hogwarts champion seem like a sham. You can’t even say anything more because you don’t know Suguru like that. If you lie - well, we already know how Helga Hufflepuff would feel about that.

But Helga Hufflepuff is dead. (Excuse me?)

No. Lying is off the table. Suguru is just going to have to take one for the team and be etched as a, quote unquote, arrogant ponce.

You tried. Sorry, Suguru.

Your lips are pursed and you avoid eye contact. How can you save this?

Belatedly, you realize your hand is still wrapped around his arm and pull away, wanting to maintain a decent gap before you explode from being this close to him. (Kento really likes being within inches of you. Huh, whatever does that mean?)

Sukuna, at some point during this whole conversation, has turned his back to the two of you and is once again tending to the pot of cream of broccoli soup. He’s humming softly to himself as he stirs and adds spices to the bubbling concoction.

Wow, you think, staring in disbelief. Sukuna really does not care.

You take a deep breath. “Just let the guy be,” you say after a while. “I have complete faith in his friend from Gryffindor to rewire his brain to be more humble and responsible. And,” you say, poking his side, “maybe she’ll even get him to respect you more.”

At this point you feel like you’re just saying anything to take Kento’s mind off of the entire topic.

When he doesn’t reply immediately, you add, “For what it’s worth, I find it funny that you’ve got Suguru in tears.”

Kento cracks a smile at that. He looks at you, his eyes softening noticeably. The stress and frustration from earlier is gone, replaced by the tenderness in his gaze and the quirk of his lips.

You feel oddly giddy as you leave the kitchens with Kento. It’s most likely the fact that you’re just casually strolling around the castle (the kitchens are literally the only place you went to with him) after hours with Nanami Kento, who you’re beginning to realize might just like you the way you like him.

You’re getting bolder. Something about wanting to take a risk makes you feel like titanium. Kento’s seen you at your worst, and he’s been tolerating you for two weeks now - you’d be chuffed if he was doing all this just to tell you he wasn’t into you.

The fact that he hasn’t denied the allegations (despite neither of you speaking it into existence just yet) says a lot.

Sukuna had grunted when you said bye, handing you a container of steaming hot spring rolls before sending you off. You swear he was smiling, but it was probably just your sleep-deprived eyes playing tricks on you.

“So,” Kento says, taking a roll from you and biting into it, “you’re quite the optimist.”

You raise a brow. “What makes you say that?”

“You seem to see the good in other people. Isn’t that why you asked out Fushiguro? And then defended Geto?”

(First of all, going up to Toji was a grave mistake, but you had had your reasons - you were willing to give him a chance to change based on what you’d seen during Potions, and as for Suguru, well, you were just being nice because he’s never done anything to you for you to dislike him.)

“It’s that Hufflepuff in me,” you want to say. But you don’t-

He chuckles, dusting his hands after finishing his spring roll. “You might be right,” he agrees.

Oh shit. You said that out loud.

“I think it’s a good trait to have. It keeps you grounded.” His eyes sparkle. “I need that sometimes.”

You want to scoff, but it’s overshadowed by the fact that your optimism keeps him grounded and he needs your optimism sometimes. Oh, that feels like you just got shot three times.

Your mouth runs dry, and you don’t know what to say, or how to continue the conversation.

Is it time to take a risk and be bold? You shoot him a quick glance, hoping he doesn’t notice.

He does, because he’s already looking at you with that fondness you’ve come to recognize. Kento doesn’t look at anyone else like that. (Not even Utahime, cough, cough.)

Your cheeks are warm. Looking away isn’t an option now, because when he makes eye contact, he holds onto it like a ship throwing out its anchor. He doesn’t let it go easily.

You scratch the back of your neck. Think.

“You’re quite the smooth talker, Head Boy,” you tease gently, nudging him.

He laughs, and you do, too. Something about seeing his broad smile and hearing his laughter, something only a select handful of people get to see, makes your heart swell with warmth and affection - even more than before. Being the source of his joy feels like ecstasy. You never want him to be so serious around you ever again, just like how you never want him to think he has to be perfect when it’s just the both of you.

All you want is for him to be his authentic self.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence. You’re walking side by side down the kitchen corridor, to the little nook stacked with barrels on the wall - the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.

Is he technically walking me to my room right now?

You point to the nook when you reach. “Well, here’s me.”

He’s looking at the barrels with interest. “Do you tap them or something?”

This surprises you. Head Boy Nanami, one of, if not the smartest person you’ve ever met, doesn’t know how to get into the Hufflepuff common room? For some reason you’ve convinced yourself that there’s nothing he doesn’t know. You are truly being humbled to death tonight. (A part of you is relieved. That means he isn’t perfect, which means he’s human and not someone on a pedestal, just out of your reach.)

A smile spreads across your face. You tuck the container between your arm and your side and walk over. “Yeah!” you say excitedly. Getting to show him something you know is exhilarating. “You just knock on the tops of these,” you point out the two barrels, “to the rhythm of ‘Helga Hufflepuff’ and then you’re in!”

He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking at you with such endearment in his pretty eyes. (What? He really does have pretty eyes.) It makes butterflies emerge from their chrysalises and flutter around your gut.

“Want to try?” you ask.

He shakes his head, crow’s feet appearing around his eyes. “A Head Boy probably shouldn’t go around opening up other houses’ common rooms, don’t you think?”

A giggle escapes your mouth. “I won’t tell.”

He pushes off the wall and steps over to you, mere centimeters away from you, so close that you can feel the heat coming off of him - his warmth. You swallow hard but don’t break eye contact. It’s easier to look at him now than before; you’re more comfortable around him. (Probably ever since you realized he’s probably just as whipped as you are.)

“You should go inside before I take points away from your house for your insubordination,” he says, his voice low and filled with weight, but the rest of his demeanor says he’s having fun with you.

You play along.

“Insubordination, huh?” you huff, crossing your arms stubbornly. “And what, pray tell, is the Head Boy doing wandering around the basement after hours?”

“Looking for a certain delinquent Hufflepuff girl.”

Oh, he’s got you flummoxed. That’s not something you thought you’d hear him say in response to your question. (He’s always ten steps ahead of you. And he’s further proving your hypothesis, which you just came up with a few minutes ago, of him being a smooth talker.)

You stare at him in shock, taking in his cutting cheekbones and jawline, and the way he’s leaning forward ever so slightly, and how his hands are twitching at his sides. You take a step back, feeling dizzy from his shamelessness, and run your tongue over your dry lips. His eyes dart down and then back up again, and your chest tightens with anticipation.

Oh, you need to run away as fast as you can before he causes you to melt into a puddle of goo. He’s such a charmer - you weren’t expecting this. He’s audacious, and it takes you by the neck because you’ve never considered him to be anything like it. (That just goes to show just how admiring someone from afar is a bad idea. Kids, take the initiative and don’t go around making little fantasies in your head if you can help it.)

Now, what’s a good escape plan?

You’re not that creative, even though you imagine completely ignoring the barrels and whipping your wand out to forcibly open the common room door (the huge barrel on the opposite wall, you can’t miss it) before disappearing, leaving him standing in awe in the middle of the kitchen corridor.

You twiddle your fingers together before standing up straighter. You put a hand on his chest. “I should go before you write me up.”

He nods. His pale hand reaches up to touch yours, the warmness spreading into yours.

Your heart skips a beat, and as you look at him, really look at him and see the boy you’ve fallen for, an idea pops into your head.

Should you do it?

No, that’s too much.

You should do it.

Don’t.

You take a deep breath and grip his shirt to bring him down closer to you.

You’re doing it.

You press your lips to his cheek before you can talk yourself out of it.

(Wow, his skin is so soft. And he smells nice.)

He goes rigid, his grip on your hand tightening, just for a millisecond, before relaxing.

“Good night,” you murmur shyly when you pull back. You fidget with your tie before turning to the barrels and tapping the code on them, your hands shaking with the adrenaline rushing through your bloodstream. You’re aware of him next to you, his cheeks and ears red, but for once he’s quiet (around you, that is).

When the barrel splits open, you turn and give him a small wave, your heart pounding in your chest, ready to burst. You almost drop the container of rolls because you use the hand that’s supposed to be securing it, and almost curse out loud before scuffling away, your face burning.

“Good night,” he whispers, his eyes trained on you until the door closes.

A/N: thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed this chapter, and house-elf sukuna. domesticate that guy! @gojover (art by elitamasan on X)