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delicrieux · 6 years ago

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idiot

PART 2 OF WON’T HE?

PAIRING: felix rosier x reader

summary: (name) comes to stay at the rosier estate for the last days of summer ;)

a/n : the amount of SUPPORT i had made me CRY. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS PART EVEN MORE! A COUPLE OF THINGS TO NOTE: this takes place before jacob’s siblings fifth year, felix is in the same year as bill (for legality reasons lmao), i know nothing abt his mother. ALSO! i tagged everyone who commented on the previous instalment, i hope that’s ok!! THANK YOU SO MUCH TO MY NEW BEST FRIEND @slytherin-princess1FOR MAKING THIS AESTHETIC AT 3AM WHEN SHE SHOULD’VE BEEN SLEEPING <3 ily bitch

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

MASTERLIST.

The Rosier estate rings true to the letter Felix had sent you so many moons ago: tall, gloomy, and surrounded by looming pine trees it relishes in its solitude. The heavy gates wad off pesky visitors, the glimmering eyes of the silver serpent on its lock following your every move. The sky is grey. Everything has a sort of pale glow to it. The resting summer heat had melted into the trees, the air now restless and chilly. You pull your jacket closer to your body once a gush of wind tugs on the strands of your hair. A lump forms in your throat. To call the Rosier estate anything but intimidating would be an understatement.

That or, perhaps you are simply nervous. You had never travelled so far to visit a friend. You had never stood in front of a boy’s home, alone. And you hadn’t told anyone you are to stay with Felix till the train to Hogwarts demands for you at King’s Cross. You had only briefly mentioned it to Penny in a letter, offhandedly mumbled something to Ben in a telephone call (telephone…fascinating!). Rowan does not know, and it is best it stays this way. Bill, too. Not even your own family is familiar with your whereabouts. You had told them you are staying with Tonks. Why? Why lie?

Your heart skips pleasantly when you see his figure emerge from the manor – he is so far his body is merely a smudge in the monotone background. Why, because no one would allow you to visit him without another friend by your side; because no one would allow you to associate with Felix outside of Hogwarts due to the rumours about his family and their supposed involvement with the Dark Lord himself.

He strides to you in quick, long steps. When he is finally close enough to make out his face, you smile at him shyly, and he gives you a curt nod, the corners of his lips quirking upwards ever so lightly. He takes out his wand and in one graceful motion the gates rattle open, a burst of magical energy passing your body and sending a shiver down your spine. Somewhere behind you crows croak and flap their wings, a ward of them spilling into the sky like black ink.

Finally, you get a good look at him. Out of his robes he appears even leaner, though still handsome to boot. His eyes glimmer in a silent hello, and overall he seems pleased with your appearance, if not a bit tired. Tugging your suitcase behind you, you enter the grounds and pebbles crunch under your feet. The gates slowly swing to a close and the serpent locks itself once more, solid as steel. This sure is a change from the Burrow, you think, your mind shimmering with happy yellow and orange images as you glance around the quiet, grey and green scenery. Felix puts away his wand. He then reaches for your suitcase and you promptly release it, almost frightened that he was to touch your hand. Feeling a bit silly, you smile awkwardly as he takes your suitcase, unhinged and unbothered. No magic required. Just pure curtsey. He is, if anything, a true gentleman.

“We don’t get many visitors.” He suddenly comments; you had been so enraptured by the far away white marble statues that you completely forgot to talk, “You are the first one in years.”

It sounds like typical small talk, just something to fill the air with until the two of you reach the manor, which is quite a stretch away. Though, Felix is not one to make small talk. His voice betrays nothing but polite inquiry, yet it still manages to ignite a pleasant flame within you. You grin at him, your attention now on him and on him only, “It’s an honour.” You say, genuinely. He glances at you, though abruptly sets his eyes straight. He tries, and fails, to fight off a smile.

“Have you had a look at the list I sent you?” He asks, referring to the letter. You nod.

“There were…quite a few things.” You recall, “Though, most of them contain studying—“

“As they should.” He hurriedly intervenes, “Your exams are just around the corner. Mine, too. As Head Boy, it would be incompetent of me to suggest anything but.”

“Felix,” You start, “right now you are not Head Boy. You’re just a boy.” You grin, “And it’s summer.” You glance up, “Lookin’ a lot like autumn right now, but I swear to you it was sunny when I left.”

A soft sigh leaves his lips, “Just as I expected…You will find other ways to entertain yourself.”

“A brought a few muggle board games.” You agree, “Ben recommended them to me. Have you ever heard of Monopoly? He is terrified of it. Said it destroys families. Ends friendships.”

He sends you a sly look, “We have nothing to worry about, then.” as he opens the main door to his home. You raise a brow, confused. Does he mean your friendship is strong enough to withhold Monopoly? If so you are delighted. However, that may also imply that you are not friends at all. Which makes you bitter. Which is it? Oh, that absolute twit. Begrudgingly, you follow after him.

The main hall is airy and lavish – though the decorations are sparse, they are expensive and picked with care. A mixture welcoming soft colours. It is a stark contrast between the outdoors. You feel as if there is an attack on your senses – your ears pick up bits of music, your nose tries to distinguish scents of cologne and musky perfume, your eyes try to adjust to how bright the interior is. You try not to awe at the pale statue of Aphrodite by the stairwell, cladded in sea shells and looking as beautiful as tales had described her being, but alas, fail. With no luggage weighting you down, you twirl to examine the statue up close.

“It’s a real shame, you know.” You start, quietly, your voice a rasp whisper, “That you don’t get many visitors.” You manage to peel your eyes away from the goddess and meet his dark gaze, “Your home is beautiful.”

“Really?” He raises a bored brow, “The word I’d use to describe it is…dull. Though…I suppose the audacity of it fades after a while. That is, until you get to see it through another’s eyes.” With a pleased smile you turn back to the statue. “Perhaps you are right.”

“Of course I am. Everyone needs to walk through a museum from time to time. I mean, really now, often do you get to see something so pretty?”

His eyes linger on your back, wistful.

“Quite a lot, actually.” He says thoughtfully. You figure he is referring to his home and snort.

“Right, well, not all of us live at a place that has an inner and outer courtyard.”

He smirks, “Really? It is quite common within the pure-blood families, so those aspects are hardly measures of wealth or status. You forgot to mention the Grand Library and my father’s Private Library, and—“ You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. That only plays into his amusement. “Should I make a list?” He inquires in a peppy tone.

“Oh, yes, because we all know how much you love those.”

“You hadn’t mentioned of a visitor, Felix.” You freeze in your spot from the chilling, low, though calm, voice of a woman. Wide-eyed and shaken, you whip your head upwards to greet what you presume to be his mother. The resemblance between him and her is striking. Your eyes meet hers and you gulp, “I assume you forgot.” She drones, almost lazily. She descends form upstairs in a slow step, her right hand gliding down the railing whilst the other holds a pipe.

“Mother.” Felix greets, his voice void of any prior chipper it had had, “This is-“

“(Lastname).” She states, her attention on you unwavering, “I know. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Lastname). Your brother was quite the character. I expect nothing but great things from you, just like I expected of Jacob.” She smiles at you, though the smile could not be anything but pretentious. You do not like it, “I’ll leave you to it. Do be nice to (Lastname), Felix.” She sends her son an icy glare, “Do not embarrass us.” With that she saunters away, in the same lazy sway that is neither slow nor quick. Before long she disappears down the hallway and her footsteps melt into the soft melody coming from the walls.

Felix turns to you, worry tugging on his heartstrings. Your eyes bore into the place his mother had gone, your jaw tense and arms crossed tightly. You are, by all means, a laid back a fun person. But anything having to do with your brother makes you intense and vulnerable, determined, though secretly unbelievably hurt. He knows you well enough by now that his mother’s comments have struck you deeply, and he will now reap what she had sown.

“I can explain.”

Your eyes peel off the empty space they had been staring in, now fixed on him in a hateful, angry look “You better.” though your voice betrays nothing but tired sadness.

***

You are led to one of the many guest bedrooms that is as impressive in its size as it is in its decoration. Though, the previous adventure driven wonder of seeing something new and shiny is replaced by a deep seed of unease and anxiety that blooms into a flower with roots strong enough to choke you from within. Nothing else interests you, not you being alone in your bedroom with Felix, not the amazing view of the gardens outside the window, not the upcoming exciting year at Hogwarts. Your pace had been tense and you could not stop fidgeting. Your foot taps impatiently, fingers pat pat pat on your sleeve. Once Felix puts away your suitcase he takes a seat on the comfy bed, bouncing a few times before the mattress settles. You remain standing.

“My mother” He starts, his eyes wandering around the room, “used to be a teacher. She taught Defence Against the Dark Arts during the years your brother had attended Hogwarts.” His gaze lands on you and your arms fall by your sides, “She is one to favour students, and Jacob was the brightest wizard in class. He was a role model, to me and many others. Though, when he came to know about the Cursed Vaults…you know how the rest of the story goes. Though, I do firmly believe that my mother adored him even more because of it.” Felix admits, “She did not teach long, because of…” His eyes wander to his wrist and you understand him perfectly. The Dark Mark. Whilst it does not adore his flesh, you did note a tattoo peeking out the side of the silky garment his mother was clothed in. With a soft frown and a sigh you plop down next to him, your shoulders brushing his. “That is why…” his voice is quieter now, more careful, “my first attempts at befriending you were…highly encouraged by my mother.”

“You mean harassing me for house points?” You inquire with a strained smile. He snorts.

“No, that was just me looking out for my house.” But he smiles all the same, though soon he falls back into the thoughtful expression he wore prior, “My mother thought she was in debt to your brother. That I had to look after you because of it.”

Your eyes go wide in surprise. This is a revelation, one you did not want to find out. The root of anxiety squeezes tighter and you look away from him, “So…Am I still some… project to you?” Your voice comes out a whisper, a question you do not entirely want an answer to.

His hand comes to rest of the side of your jaw, firm on your soft skin. He tilts your head to face him, his finger caressing the side of your lips, almost absentmindedly, as his eyes wander from your eyes to the line of your hair to your mouth and back with a small, dazed smile, “No, not at all. I never thought of you in such a way, (Name).” You blush like a rose under the morning light. Your mind whirls like a bizarre storm of confused feelings, though none of them are unpleasant. The proximity, his touch on your skin – all of this is new, though not intrusive. Your lips part to take in a breath of sweet air, your eyes never leaving his own. Such a mysterious, hypnotizing gaze.

Though the soft, near loving, smile soon melts as realization dawns onto him like sunlight after heavy rain. His hand falls from your cheek and he scoots away, just an inch, so the two of you would no longer be connected. His touch still lingers in the tingle on your skin, the erratic beat of your heart. You are so out of it, you hardly realise he is looking away, a rosy blush blooming on his cheeks.

“Well, I’ll leave you to unpack. I’ll come find you later.” He blurs, abrupt to stand and leave. Your eyes follow after him, though you are unable to say anything. Once the door is shut sharply it all finally crashes down onto you. Dust settles. Silence. Not a sound. You bounce on your mattress, a stupid grin blossoming on your lips. With a giggle, now full of excitement and glee, you fall back into the sheets and relish in this new found happiness.

The next few days are spent in a similar fashion: exploring the house, and the boundaries of your friendship. The first day is spent at the gardens since Felix knows you enjoy Herbology. He shows you around the impressive plot, it growing and blooming with healthy flowers and bushes, bees, butterflies, and other insects living in perfect harmony. He has trouble naming some of the more complex species when you look at him so…How? Wondrous and loving, hanging onto his every word. You seem to enjoy the sound of his voice more than the pleasant silence that comes after it. The two of you had walked around for a long while, you wondering aloud just how many statues must a wealthy family have. He, with a snort and a roll of his eyes, though good-naturedly, replied with ‘a whole bloody lot’. The second day of your stay was exploring the Grand Library and the parlour. The library was more of a maze, and even more silent than the rest of the house. It held a scent of coffee and old parchment, enchanted it must have been because with one swift inhale you became instantly focused. The parlour was more fun. It turned out to be the source of the music. Grand and lavish, just like every corner of the estate, it was open to all dancers. You had mock practiced your steps, but he refused to join you. Instead, with a book he had grabbed from the library, he made himself comfortable on one of the couches, occasionally glancing at you swaying to the rhythm of waltz with an invisible partner. An odd thought had occurs to him that he should have asked you to last year’s dance. Who had you gone with? It had been some pest from Gryffindor, but not a Weasley. Why on earth hadn’t he saved you, he had no clue. He should have asked you. That is all he could think about as words swam in his vision.

You have grown to love the lonely rooms of this manor, and you already felt sad to leave. Tomorrow you and Felix will take the first train to King’s Cross, from which you will proceed to find the rest of your friends and be on your merry way to Hogwarts. But it somehow does not seem as fun as it had nights before. Spending time together had made you cherish his presence, crave it even. You knew that at Hogwarts the two of you will be pulled away from one another, by work or by others….

But does it really have to be that way?

You eye him, lying in your bed and examining the plans the two of you had conjured an hour prior. The Cursed Vaults. You had not forgotten them, frankly it is the only thing you hadn’t forgotten whilst being with him. The two of you had sat down to plan meticulously, just like he had suggested you would. This will be his first exploration of a Vault, one you believe is hiding somewhere in the dungeons. With all the evidence collected, the two of you had drawn a map and some possible scenarios.

It is well past your bedtime, deep into the night. Dim lights flicker by your bed, warm and glowing. The window is open to let the chilly night air in, though it is still impossibly warm. You feel like being honest. Perhaps it is the inky darkness behind the window whispering to you. Perhaps you are simply tired. Alas, you take in a small breath of encouragement before starting, “I’ll miss you.” That catches his attention and he halts sits up, “Harassing me for house points.” You add awkwardly. He seems to relax, releasing a breath of a laugh and putting away parchment he had been invested in.

“Don’t worry, I will send an owl weekly to stay informed.” He replies slyly,” Though, there is still a whole year before that.” He reminds you, and you smile.

“I know.” You shrug, “But I’ll also miss your home.”

“You can always come back.” He says seriously and your heart jumps pleasantly.

“Really?” You ask, sounding more eager than you wished. He either does not notice, or simply does not care.

“Of course. My mother would love to have another go at you.” He says. You wilt a little.

“And…” You fidget with the paper, “And would…you like me to come over again?” He stares at you intently and the silence makes you nervous. Feeling heat caressing your cheeks, you look away and await his response. Are you too forward? Will he interpret your question as another friendly gesture? It certainly sounded like an underlying confession to you, but perhaps he did not catch on. You bite your lower lip in worry; roll it between your teeth. Your eyes wander to the empty cups of coffee standing idly by your feet. Had you drank too much for your heart to race so quickly? You never took yourself to be a shy one, though clearly you were wrong.

“I especially would like you to visit.” He says, meaning every word. You gulp, “After all…there are plenty of places you have yet to see.” His eyes twinkle mischievously, “My bedroom being one of them.” He comments slyly, meaning it as a jest but seeing your flustered expression makes him take a mental step back and assess what had just left his mouth. Awkwardly, he mumbles, “I was joking.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Yes, I was told my humour need improvement.” He ponders aloud, rubbing the back of his neck, “But I do mean it all. Except the bedroom part.” He sends you a nervous glance. You continue staring at the plan that was seemingly the most important part of this meeting just minute prior. “I will miss you too, though.” He says after a while, “It will be strange to finally leave Hogwarts. I have grown quite attached to it. And to…” His voice dies down in his throat when you finally look up at him, “And to…And to you.”

As peculiar as it may seem, his words do not catch you off guard. It is like he is voicing something already known, plain and clear, some belief that only needed reassurance. And there is no sudden crash this time, just familiarity, no surprise, just a pleasant tingle and airy lungs. Your breath hitches in your throat as a smile blooms on your lips; you watch him watch you in the dim glow of the room.

“Is that a confession?” You tease, unable to withhold you glee. He refrains from rolling his eyes, yet grins all the same.

“Depends on your answer.”

You scoot closer, and he does to. The plan, now entirely forgotten, proves to be no obstacle as it slides off the sheets and slumps on the carpet. His hand, once again, finds the already familiar position of grasping the side of your jaw, his thumb slowly running over your cupid’s bow. His eyes, dark pools of brown, wander from yours to your lips and back, “Answer. Now.” His breath comes out a hiss, his tone somewhat impatient and strained.

“Just kiss me you bloody idiot.”

In one swift motion his lips crash onto your own with enough passion for you to melt right there and then.

BONUS:

King’s Cross is a hectic mess of people colliding with one another or their luggage. A concerned Rowan Khan stands on her toes, narrowing her eyes behind her glasses in search of a familiar face in the crowd of bumbling, excited students. Bill Weasley stands just as uneasy as his friend beside him, his gaze roaming in search of you. The first whistle had already gone off, and another will soon follow as a heated warning to all of those loitering in the station to hurry up. Have they missed you? They wonder in union. Bill turns his gaze the opposite direction where a swarm of Hufflepuffs hop onto the train. Perhaps you went to find Penny before he and Rowan, he ponders.

Rowan spots you. Her hand was already reaching for Bill’s sleeve but it halted mid-air as her lips slowly parted in disbelief. You stand with Felix Rosier, hands linked and sharing heated whispers about secrets only the two of you know of as fellow Slytherins help carry your luggage. It feels as if lightening had struck her; she stands frozen in horror. How? When? Why hasn’t she heard about this? Felix laughs quietly as you complain about one thing or another, most likely Griffin screaming in her cage.

“Rowan, I don’t see her, maybe she—“ Before Bill can turn and see the horrid sight, Rowan jumps into his vision with a strained, frantic grin, grasping his hand in her firm hold and levelling his gaze. “Rowan?” He asks, concerned.

“I…I think (Name) was eaten by a dragon. We should go.”

What was meant as a joke, a gesture to soften the blow of upcoming heartbreak only makes it worse. It resonates with Bill, the ache of first love, and he is chillingly aware of what those words really mean. Rowan tries to stop him from looking over his shoulder with a whine, but he ignores her. A part of him wishes he hadn’t.

There you stand, glowing with happiness, as Felix kisses the side of your lips before excusing himself to go to the Head Student compartment.

Bill is an idiot. Rowan said this will happen. He is real bloody idiot.

He should have told you.

He really really should have told you.

(IN BOLD ARE THOSE I COULDN’T TAG)

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