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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.9 K Warnings: none Prompt: Why is it that potions is always so problematic? Not proofread

Chapter 68: Mysteries and Mayhem

Friday, 14th, 1977

“I think we have to tell her,” Evan said as he threw the quaffle towards the canopy of the bed and caught it again.

“We don��t have to tell her anything,” Barty retorted. He was working on Evan’s desk and had his back to him. He always revised Evan’s essays since Evan had mild dyslexia and a tendency to confuse the names of some ingredients along with the position of TH and HT at the end of some words. Evan was brilliant at Potions, but the memoir writing had always been tricky for him.

“She would tell us if she knew about something like this,” he said as he caught the ball and threw it upwards again. Regulus’ snitch was floating around the room since it had accidentally gotten out from its chest when Evan opened it to take the quaffle. It always helped him destress to play with it, but he never bothered with the snitch, he thought it was too small and a pain in the ass to chase.

“She wouldn’t tell us shit,” Barty responded. “She doesn’t like to meddle.”

“But she has meddled, and in our favour, you know this!”

“Please stop it with the quaffle,” Barty said with a sigh. Evan stopped throwing it and placed it on the side of the bed, now rolling it around with his hand. “It’s none of our business what they do behind closed doors. And we would be outing those two if we told her.”

“How would you feel, I was cheating on you with Dorcas?”

“I’d break her neck,” Barty retorted without hesitation.

Evan wasn’t entirely sure if he meant it as a joke or not, but chose to believe he did. “Right, see? She should know!”

“She’s the dumb one for not noticing.”

“It is not something you normally expect. Especially not if you were born in the wizarding elite.”

“Evan,” Barty whined. “Why should we care? We’ve done our good deed of the century by shutting stupid Severus up about it.”

“I’m gonna tell her,” Evan said with determination.

“And you’ll just accomplish what Severus wanted.”

“I know you don’t like her–”

“You don’t like her either.”

“Well, she’s conceited and loves to rub how good she is at flying but… I never expected her to help me the way she did.”

“So what? You’re gonna go braid each other’s hair, is that it?” Evan threw the quaffle at Barty’s head, the latter got the hit unexpectedly and turned around to him as he gasped. “You’re such a git! I’m trying to check your homework.”

“You’re no better,” Evan retorted. “It’s just– I wouldn’t want people laughing behind my back.”

“Maybe she knows and they’re using her as a cover,” Barty said, although he didn’t believe it.

“Impossible. She’s for sure in love with that dick. I mean I knew he was an asshole but–”

“Not to the point of using someone like that?” Barty offered. “I think we really shouldn’t meddle. We’ve somehow reached a ceasefire, you don’t want to start shooting again, do you?”

“She helped me! Even after the fire, my dad seemed pleased at the insinuation that we– you know.”

Barty sighed, standing from the desk and walking towards his bed, the same bed Evan considered as his own most of the time. “If you really want to tell her, then I’ll come along with you.”

Evan smiled and lifted himself up to press a short kiss on Barty’s lips. As they were pulling apart the door busted open and Barty appeared a book on his lap and started saying something about a spell.

“It’s just Regulus,” Evan said as he tilted his head to the side. “Didn’t you see the busy sign on the door?”

“I did,” Regulus responded. “Decided to ignore it, though.”

“I swear it runs in the family,” Evan said with an eye roll. He liked Regulus, but that didn’t stop him from thinking he was a bit of an entitled prick, much like his brother.

And Evan himself, according to Barty. Who in turn, was also considered one by the rest of his class. Either way, they consider themselves an acquired taste, after all, Evan had hated Barty’s guts before falling in love.

“Shhh...” Regulus said as he lifted his hand. “I think I hear something?”

“What?” Asked Evan.

“The sound of two tossers who are about to go use someone else's room to make out.”

“Bitch,” Barty said as he threw the quaffle his way.

Regulus was fast enough to dodge and then noticed his snitch floating around. “For Salazar’s sake! How many times have I told you not to let the Little Star out?”

“Little Star?” Evan asked.

“The snitch,” Retorted Barty a little exasperated.

“You named your snitch little star?” Evan asked in disbelief. “Is that because you’re the big star? You’re such a nerd!” Regulus flipped his wand, the green covers on Barty’s bed slipped from beneath him and threw him on the floor. “A mean nerd.”

Fridays could have been your favourite day of the week, your first class was at 9 rather than at 7, which meant you didn’t have to wake up remarkably early, even if you were still doing practice flying with James and Sirius. And although classes didn’t end early, your last class was among your favourites, and the one before lunch was Magic Theory, which meant more time to spend playing around. The real problem was the 9 am class, divination.

You’d gotten used to Spellman, and it seemed like he had also gotten used to you. The pressure that he seemed to be putting on you at the beginning of the course had slowly dissipated, and even if you still had good grades in his class, since you’d seen most divination techniques with your previous teacher, he seemed to focus a lot more on Sybil, which you were insanely grateful for.

And unlike you, Sybil seemed to actually want to pursue a career in divination, which Spellman supported as dutifully as any good teacher would.

“Hey!” She said as you walked inside. You had a bottle of almost boiling green tea in hand since the day had been pretty chilly while flying and even after Lily cast that warming charm over your coat, you were still shivering slightly.

“Hi!” you retorted with a smile as you sat beside her. Since that one class when you’d gotten paired, you had been working together on every single class, which you thought was excellent.

Sybil’s father, Deplhus Trelawney, was an unofficial member of the order, and he’d told Sybil what’d happened at the party. Besides, it didn’t take an empath to notice how it had flipped your world almost upside down. So she avoided the basic “How did your break go?” question since she knew it would be a terrible one. It was obvious that it had gone mostly like shit. It did make her feel better that you looked like you were coping, whoever it was that you were.

“Want some tea? It’s got a little bit of milk.”

“Sure,” she said with a smile and pulled a mug from the cupboard. Those were technically for divination, but some students used them every once in a while for their morning coffee, and since that was the one thing that kept some awake, Spellman allowed it. As you served she noticed the wand you’d placed on the side of your desk. She stared at it for a second and then turned back to you.

“I can explain that,” you rushed out, almost stumbling with your words.

“I’m glad you have it,” she said with a smile. “I’d hate it if it had been lost at their hands.”

“You know about–”

“I know enough,” she replied. “We don’t have to talk about that, though.”

You nodded with a small smile, “Thanks.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” she said simply.

“How was your break?” you asked.

“We stayed home,” she responded. “We had dinner and then a small tea ceremony at New Year’s. Grandma thinks it’s the best way to start the year.”

“Doesn’t she read your star chart? Mine used to do that.”

“Oh certainly.”

“Anything good?”

“She said this might be the year my talents finally bloom,” Sybil said sceptically. “She’s a brilliant divinator on everything else, but she’s been telling me that since I was 13.”

You laughed. “My mom she–” There was a small hesitation before you continued. Still not used to living in a world where she didn’t. You’d been in boarding schools since you were eleven, and although you were relatively used to her absence, it had never been this long without a letter, or a message, or any type of contact. “She used to say that it was going to be the year I got good at herbology every year.”

“Did it ever happen?”

“Still waiting,” you retorted with a half smile. “She, on the other hand, is– was really good at it. We used to have a stunning garden, and she’d often get angry about me plucking her stuff for make believe potions.”

She was about to say something when Professor Spellman walked inside the classroom, his robe trailing behind him in that elegant manner that it tended to have whenever he walked inside a room. “This is not a picnic Miss Doxon, please put your cookies in your bag or I’ll vanish them.”

“‘M sorry,” she retorted as she placed one of the cookies in her mouth and placed the rest on her bag.

Spellman nodded, walking straight to the middle of the classroom before eying everyone. “How long have we kept this sitting arrangement?” he asked.

“Most of the year,” responded a Ravenclaw boy. “I was actually wondering if we would change soon.”

“Divination is often done better when you keep your partner, it becomes easier since you already know a good deal about them,” Sybil said.

“So we’re not changing?” asked Beth.

“Not quite,” Spellman said later. “Although we have had some wonderful pairs so far, for this class in particular it’s better to work with someone to whom you’ve never divined before.”

You threw a look at Sibyl who just shrugged. She was curious about who she’d be divining for. Hoping it wouldn’t be someone to closed off to the art, which was, unfortunately, rather common.

“What are we going to work with, Professor?” asked Tom.

“Spanish Deck,” he replied rather somberly.

You looked up at him as if you were a deer trapped in headlights. Reading someone’s cards was something you thought you’d ever have to do again. Sybil looked at you apprehensively. “Sir, can I keep working with my partner? I think we’re both quite–”

“I’m sorry Sybil, It is not possible, your deep knowledge of each other might taint the cards.”

“But we’re all friends,” said Tom. “We all have a pretty deep knowledge of each other.”

“Not in divination,” said Spellmam calmly. “Please, stand up and make two lines. The left will take runes from this side and the right from this one.”

You walked into the line in which Sybil wasn’t, but Spellman caught it and put the two of you in the same line seconds later. “I’m sorry, but you cannot be in the same team,” he said to you as he placed his hand on your shoulder and lightly pushed you to the other line.

As you walked through the line, you crossed your fingers, almost begging the gods of chance that you didn’t get anyone you were close to. You took your stone, it was one of the trickiest characters in the Norse Alphabet. Two lines with an X in the middle: degaz.

“I’ve got Isa,” said Sybil, who got paired with Lily.

“I have Jara,” said Sirius, and ended up with Tom.

“It’s an R,” said Peter.

“Do you mean Raido?” asked Remus as he showed him his stone, the two of them got together.

Marlene and Mary were paired with some Ravenclaws and Beth with one of her roommates. You thought you were safe, that you wouldn’t have to read the fortune of any of your friends when James pulled his stone up in the air and asked. “Does anyone have Degaz?”

You closed your eyes in defeat, a small frown adorning your face as you opened them again. “Me,” you said as you lifted your stone.

“Lovely,” James said as he approached you with a smile. “Have you ever read the Spanish Deck?”

“Yeah,” you responded. “But I’d much rather be the one that gets a read and not the other way around?”

“Sure,” James said with a shrug and a nod. He could tell there was something that made you uneasy, and while he didn’t really care for getting his cards read, it wasn’t a huge deal for him to do the reading.

Spellman flipped his wand and the chairs changed their places, they were now one in front of the other instead of side by side. “Please take your seats,” he said. “The books on Spanish Deck will be on your desks shortly.”

Since Lily and Sybil took the chair you normally used, James and you walked towards the one in the back where he usually sat with Sirius.

“Please shuffle the cards, Madame,” he said after he dug his finger into the flap of the side of the small box, pulled them out and moved the whole deck towards you. “These are kind of worn, though,” he said as he spotted some scribblings on the side of one and flipped it back into place.

“It’s better when they are,” you said as you took them in your hands. You started to shuffle them mindlessly, not bothering to look at them while you spoke. “The more time they’ve been shuffled the more magic they’re imbued with. Of course, it’s better when the deck belongs to one witch and not the entire school, since that can make them a bit unpredictable but either way, the older they are, the better they become at–”

“How are you doing that?” James asked as you flipped the cards from one side to the other, he seemed completely enthralled by the way you were shuffling them. “Since when can you shuffle like this? Why didn’t I know?”

“Oh,” you said as you finally noticed what you were doing. “They made me read these a lot in my older school. I got fidgety sometimes. Tarot too, but you can’t shuffle them as much since they’re thicker.”

“Still they’re easier to read,” James said as he flipped through some of the pages in the book that had floated towards the table a few minutes earlier. “These all have so many different meanings. I mean the 2 of clubs means that you might travel but the third means love, and the 6 means despondency and destruction. It makes zero sense.”

“The third kind of does,” you said as you pulled out the card for him to see. Three clubs tied to each other with a thick ribbon. “Doesn’t it remind you of the ties and connections related to love?”

“I don’t know…” James responded with a shrug, “I guess it kind of does.”

You flipped the card back into the deck and shuffled it by splitting it into two smaller lots, placing them on the table, taking one end and allowing cards from both sides to fall on the table at the same time, having them entwine together, and then turning your hands and flipping them all into one single stack.

“That’s it,” James said as you handed them back to him. “You’ll be the dealer next time we play cards, no objections.” You laughed and shook your head as he looked back at the book. He placed them on the table again. “Please divide them in three.”

You did, and afterwards knocked on each stack once as you said “For me, For my past and for what I’d like to know.”

“Oh, thanks,” James said when he noticed what you’d done. “Uh… Which type of throw was that for?”

“Gypsy, that’s a 9 by 4.” You responded. “You throw them starting on the left, and when you’re done with that row you continue on the right, making a long chain, or a snake, I suppose.”

James gave you a small side smirk and started placing the cards one by one, facing him. When he was done he looked up at you, adjusting his glasses and biting the side of his cheek.

“Well go on,” you said.

“It says you can assign cards to people…”

“I’m the 8 of swords,” you told him. “I’m always the 8 of swords.”

“Why?” Asked James curiously.

“I’ve been told it represents me,” you retorted.

“Ah, it’s because you’re stubborn,” he said as he found the page with the card’s explanation.

“It’s perseverance, Prongs!”

“Perseverance, tenacity, stubbornness… they’re all the same thing in different degrees of intensity.”

You laughed as you shook your head. “Fine then, you’re here,” he pointed at the card. “And this throw is about your past, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “At least on this technique, we’re supposed to make three throws.” You looked back at the cards. “What do you see?”

“Eh, well… you look… sad,” he said as he noticed the sheer amount of clubs beside your card. There was a 6 right next to you, and on the other side, there was a four of swords. “That means trouble, right?” He asked as he pointed at it.

“Yeah,” you said, being completely appalled and in deep sorrow was quite on par with how you’d been not too long ago.

“There’s also a– a trip,” he started, pointing at the 2 of clubs below you, and just under that there was a 6 of cups. “Cups!” he said excitedly. “Cups are meant to be good, right?”

“Not those,” you said. “It’s a trip to melancholy, sadness over bad memories,” you explained, which was also quite accurate, and not new to either of you.

“Right, but next to these swords we have a three of clubs, that means love, yeah?”

“But it’s next to the swords that indicate trouble,” you said as you pointed at the swords next to it. “It means trouble with relationships. And that 5 of swords on the other side, with the middle sword pointing straight towards the clubs? It means break up and changes.”

“Are you kidding me?” he asked in disbelief. “Is there anything good on this throw?” There was a small minute of silence before he spoke again. “This one has to mean something good, there’s a lot of gold at the top. And sixes are bad, but that’s to the top left, so it means that the bad stuff was in the past, right?”

“Yeah, 6 of gold means problems, but it’s next to an 8 that’s right on top of me.”

“That means–” he flipped through some pages. “thought and reflection, and that has a 5 of gold afterwards, which means settlement, and resolution. And… you have to hear this: The discovery of a significant emotional bond.”

“Must have been the mirror,” you said as you looked at the coins. “And the fact that I figured the whole thing out with Remus and Sirius.”

“Are they here?” he asked as he looked at the cards.

“Probably,” you responded as you looked around. “Must be these two, look,” you said as you pointed at the gold knight, whose face was turned towards you from your down left, and the knight of swords who was next to him. “See how the horses are looking at each other but they’re avoiding each other’s gaze?”

“Mhm,” James nodded.

“It’s because they’re in love, the horse represents their heart’s true desires, I think. The 4 of cups under Remus represent his… um… desire. And the 4 of clubs under Sirius represent his resistance to it.”

“You really are good at this,” he said as he stared at the throw. “You see anything else?”

“No, you?”

“Well this Ace of clubs and 9 of swords together mean something bad,” he said pointing at the cards that were beside the 6 of cubs you got at first. “And there’s a person right above them, a Jack of Gold, that represents a woman, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “9 of swords and ace of clubs can mean a life-altering situation.”

“And if they’re next to a 4 of swords,” he read, “It can even mean dea–”

“Must be Nina,” you said, pointing at the Jack. “Jack of Gold often represents a fair woman, clever. Suits her, doesn’t it?”

He looked at you, apprehension in his eyes as he rolled his tongue over his cheek. “Should we go for the next throw?” he offered.

“Yes,” you said, turning back to him. “These are not the fondest of my memories.”

“You can read mine if you want instea–”

“No,” you said almost too quickly, interrupting James mid-sentence. “I mean, this is fine. I much prefer being on this side of the deck.”

“You never liked divination much, did you?” He asked as he gathered the rest of the cards.

“Not much,” you admitted. “It’s a family thing,” you said. “Nan always divined for bad things, my mum for goods, and I always get the bad stuff too.”

“Maybe you don’t look for the good?”

“Trust me, I look for the good. But for some reason, I still get the bad stuff.”

“Well then, I’ll be your seer,” he said as he passed you a bunch of cards. “Please, shuffle them again,” he added solemnly.

“You really could open your own reader stand,” you said with a laugh. “He didn’t look much like a “seer” but with the right clothing? Perhaps switching his school robes and his go-to red Converse with something like Professor Spellman’s clothes. Maybe some gold bracelets and a fake earring. He could definitely pull off the look.

“You’re staring at me weird,” he said as you placed the cards on the table and divided them into three smaller stacks.

“For me, for my present, and for what I’d like to know,” you said while knocking on the stacks and then turned to him. “I was just imagining you on a dress.”

“Why?” he asked as he narrowed his eyes on you.

“For the authentic seer look,” you said with a shrug.

He hummed unsatisfactorily in return and started throwing your cards. “You know,” he started as he placed a king of clubs, “I look delightful in a dress.”

“Bet.”

“Honest,” he said as he placed yet another card onto the floor. “I have mean calves and a nice waist.”

“Yeah?” you asked, trying not to laugh.

��Some need corsets for a nice waist, I got mine with hours of quidditch.”

“Fascinating!”

“Yes and–” he turned to you, noticing the small smile creeping on your lips. “Are you making fun of me?”

“I’d never dream of it,” you retorted.

“You ARE making fun of me,” he said with a pout, and placed another card on the pile. He was near the beginning of the third row. “Ah look, it’s you.”

“James,” you said and he turned to you while keeping another eye on the cards. “Have you ever worn a dress?”

“Yeah,” he said with a simple nod. “For Halloween, and I also once lost a dare with Sirius.”

“The two of you wore dresses?”

“Mhm, medieval stuff, Peter and Remus made us do a catwalk and we had to wear them for a whole Weekend.”

“I would pay to see that,” you said with a laugh. “Are there any photos?”

“I think Remus must have taken some,” he said with a shrug. “Okay, done.”

You turned to look at the cards and almost laughed at the fact that both Remus and Sirius were right beside you. Their horses looking at you, and right on top of the three was the three of clubs. “Well, seems like you have quite a happy relationship,” he said.

“Yeah, you said, looking at the cards. This time around there was a lot more Gold and cups around. That meant good things.

“That’s Victory, right?” he pointed at the ace of golf right underneath you.

“Indeed, and it’s next to–”

He checked the book, “–5 of gold, which means well-being and on the opposite, there is, oh,” he frowned. “A 7 of swords…”

“Those are good, actually,” you told him. “It means hope, and it’s right under Remus, so…”

“Right,” James said as he remembered, his hazel eyes almost sparkling. “It means you’ve found someone who gives you the confidence to believe in a better future.” You smiled. That was certainly who Remus was for you.

“There’s also a cup next to the love clubs,” he said as he tried to remember what that meant. “The Ace.”

“It stands for home, and family. The fact that it has the three clubs on the left and the 7 of cups on the right also means good things.”

You agreed with a small “hum” as he revised the book.

“It also says it means fullness of plenitude.” He read something and smirked. “Do you feel like your deepest darkest desires have been fulfilled?”

“Prongs.” You warned.

“I mean I’m just asking based on what I see here… Talking about cups, do you know what this one means?” he asked as he pointed to the 4 beside the nine of clubs. The card in question had 4 gold and red cups, one in each corner, and read “Naipe Color Oro” in the centre.

“Instincts,” you said almost a little too fast.

“And carnal desires,” James added with a smirk. “And this one right here,” he pointed at the clubs, “it’s satisfaction… and would you look at that, right beside you and the boys. Now I might be getting carried away, but does this not mean that you’re all giving each other satisfaction in regards of carnal desires?”

“Prongs, please!” you whined as you covered your face with your hands.

He chuckled and then raised both hands in defeat. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just that this one looks much better than the previous one.” He then cleared his throat. “Right at the top of this line,” he pointed at the one with you on it. “There is a 4 of gold. The fact that it’s crowning the love cubs, you and the ace of golds right at the bottom means that there is an overall wellness in your love life.”

“And the three of swords beside it?”

“I think it’s a bad card, but not with what’s surrounding it. “It’s in between two positive ores,” he said as he checked his notes. “Gratifications, success and wellness, so I think it means, in the long run, you’ll be all right.”

“Am,” you corrected. “This is about the present.”

“But isn’t this one about the future?” he said as he pointed at the three of swords.

“Not in the present throw,” you said. “It’s tricky, it can mean anything from years to days.”

“But at least for now, it does mean good stuff, right?”

“Yes, it does,” you said with a small smile and a nod.

“Could this victory also be about quidditch?” He asked as he pointed at the ace underneath you.

“I guess,” you said with a shrug. “But there’s still some time before the match, isn’t it? We’re not playing until May, depending on the sores they get in February and March.”

“Shh,” he said as he shook his head. “I’m the seer, I think it means a Quidditch victory.”

You shrugged, “Whatever you say Prongs… Just don’t write something like that on the quizzes.”

“Have you been doing the dream interpretation homework?” he asked as he continued staring at the cards, trying to find something else. But he couldn’t find anything else that would be relevant, so he started gathering them in a single stack again.

“I haven’t had many dreams lately,” you said. “Not since the darkness in the Ravenclaw tower.”

“You… you dreamed of darkness in the tower?”

“Yeah, I thought it was my imagination, but I guess it made sense… I’m making up most of the rest, though.”

“You’re making your dreams up?”

“I found this book on dream interpretation in the library and I have been using it as inspiration,” you said with a shrug.

“It’s time for the throw about the future,” he said as he offered you the stack again.

“I’d rather not,” you said as you shook your head and pushed the cards back at him.

“Things look good now, I’d rather not worry about what the future may hold.”

“But–”

“If I had gotten a throw like the one I got in the past 5 months ago, I would have been scared shitless…” you said. “You know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “Maybe we can make something up for the report?”

“Like what?” you asked with a smile.

“I definitely see a quidditch win in your future,” he said with a smile.

“And how does that look?”

“Wait…” he said as he looked through the stack and placed the 8 of swords on the table, followed by a knight of clubs, who he then switched with a jack of swords and added a knight of ores to your right. “So that’s me,” he pointed at the clubs. “Marlene and, of course, Padfoot,” he explained.

“Aha…” you said with a smile.

He then flipped through the cards until he found the two of clubs and placed it next to himself. “I am leading you all,” he added the ace of gold right next to that. “To victory.”

You laughed and took a bunch from the stack in his hands. “This is Lily,” you said as you took the Jack of cups and placed it under him. You’re both standing over the love clubs,” you said as you raised your eyebrows at him in a teasing manner. “And look what’s above you, two of cups, you know what that means?”

“You can’t predict Lily and I having children in your future!”

“What do you mean I can’t? They’ll be my nephews and nieces, of course, I can predict that!”

James humped in reply. “Well then,” he said as he spotted Remus and placed him underneath you. Then, on your top right corner, he added the four of cups. “You and the boys are having mighty fun as well.”

“You’re such a dumbass,” you said as you looked for another card to add. Next to the victory you placed the ace of cups. “Means we’re a family.”

“And,” he placed the 5th of cups under the family, “we’ll celebrate the victory tremendously.”

“With gratification,” you said as you placed the 7 of gold underneath it.

Your little game went on until the two of you had designed a wonderfully looking future. Your friends were all around you, Beth. Peter and Tom had been added close to the celebration, and most of the clubs and swords were as far away from all of you as possible, except for the few that weren’t.

“Why are there so many cards missing? asked Spellman as he approached your table.

“Ugh… because…” Prongs started.

“It’s a celt-fae throw,” you said. “It’s a little tricky to make, and I’m trying to remember how to do it, teaching James in the process.”

“Celt-fae?” he asked with a frown.

“Yeah, my Nan taught me,” you nodded confidently.

Spellman placed a hand under his chin and hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll see if we have some books on that in the library,” he added before walking towards someone else’s table.

“You just made that whole thing up, didn’t you?” James asked you in a whisper.

You laughed as you nodded, “I most definitely did.”

“How long do you reckon he’ll be at the library looking for it?”

You shrugged and then remembered that Sirius and Remus had told you about Spellman going to the forbidden section that one time. “More than one night, at least…”

James shook his head while the two of you finished the future you’d like to have. “Does two cups mean two children?” he asked casually.

“Just means children in general,” you retorted. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I quite fancy the idea of having two of them.”

“Yeah?” you asked as you tilted your head. “Boys or girls?”

“I wouldn’t care,” he said with a shrug. “Wouldn’t mind one of each I guess. Imagine me braiding a little Lily’s hair.”

“If it’s anything like our Lily, she might not let you touch it.”

“She wouldn’t let anybody but me, touch it,” he retorted confidently. “And Lily, of course.”

“Of course,” you laughed at the way he’d added that, almost as an afterthought.

James scribbled something on a sheet of parchment and then passed it over to you. “What do you think?”

You reviewed the parchment, it was a rather detailed writing of everything that you’d done that day, he had even made some stuff up regarding the fae-celt technique that was so realistic you had to do a double take “Oh, wow,” you said. “It looks like taken from a book.”

“Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Even if he doesn’t find anything, he’ll still think it’s a thing.”

“Who knows, perhaps we’ve just made up a new way of predicting the future,” you added with a shrug.

You added just a few more details that you’d seen on the past and present readings, with some drawings of the most relevant or telling cards and looked at the page once more, pulling it back and showing it to James, “What do you think?”

“It’s great!” he said with a simple nod, and the two of you stood up and walked towards Spellman’s desk. You handed over the paper while James placed the deck, and the book, along with the rest of the stuff.

“How did it go?” asked Spellman, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Good,” you replied with a simple nod. You knew it hadn’t been his choice, but having been paired with James perhaps had been a saving grace. With his constant teasing and fooling around, and the fact that he was the one reading and not the other way around, you’d managed to escape what would have otherwise been a torturous situation.

He nodded at you calmly and told you and James that, since you were finished, you could exit the classroom. You stopped by Remus and Peter on the way out. Peter was incredibly confused as he looked in between the cards and the book, biting the side of his cheek as he looked at Remus completely appalled.

“What does this even mean?”

“May I?” you asked as you approached him, “Whose reading for whom?”

“I’m the seer,” said Remus. “I’ve told him it’s nothing but he’s worried he’ll die.”

You frowned and leaned over the cards, looking at them with a small analysing frown as you placed yourself beside Remus, your side brushing against his shoulder. “Present?”

“Future,” answered Peter. “See those two? those are death!”

“Are you supposed to be the Knight of Clubs or the Jack of Gold?” you asked as you looked at the two cards underneath the apparent death.

“He’s the Knight of Swords,” Remus said, there was a slight hint of exasperation in his voice as if he had already told Peter the exact same thing.

“But even then, not in a much better situation either, am I?” he asked as he pointed at his spot, near the top middle, leaning to the left. “I’m surrounded by bad cards!”

You sighed, “It looks like there are some weird things going on, like you’re going to have a fallout with some friends,” you said as you pointed at the Three of Cups being pointed at by an Ace of Swords from below and a Seven from the side. “That could make you or others feel dejected and upset.

“But, even if you are a little upset, or perhaps sick, it seems like in the end, you’ll be somehow fulfilled with the choice you made,” you continued, studying the cards again. It was as if they were trying to tell you something. Peter was right, there was certainly something ominous about his throw but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know either. Your worst predictions often came true, and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to Peter; he was your friend.

“You think?”

“Yeah, and look,” you said, pointing at the diagonal line from his left. “It seems that you will eventually submit to something or someone, and you won’t feel too sad about the stuff that went down either, since you’ll still have a friend you consider home,” you said pointing at the King of Gold and at the Ace of Cups at the end of the line.

“That means I’ll be fine?”

You looked at the cards again. There were dark things in them that you didn’t want to think too much about, something baleful that you could feel and not quite see. If you had thrown them, perhaps it would have been easier, and although your magic had always been compatible with Remus’, readings were extremely delicate, and only the main seer could predict things with accuracy –if they were good.

“Yeah,” you said reassuringly. “You’ll be fine, Pete.”

“Told you so!” Said Remus as he rolled his eyes and wrote some things down in his notebook. “You’re perfectly safe in this throw.”

“That’s quite reassuring,” Peter said with a sigh.

“Yeah,” James said as he looked at the cards with a smile and patted Peter’s shoulder cheerfully. “See you in Magic Theory in a bit, yeah?” he said as he looked at the two of them.

“Sure,” Peter said as he started writing down the throw he’s gotten.

You smiled at the two of them, turning to Remus with slight complicity before giving his shoulder a soft squeeze and walking outside with James. It was a simple way of telling him you loved him, and you knew he’d gotten the message with the small smile he returned.

“You think I showed up on Lily’s read?” He asked as he turned back to take a look at her once you reached the doors.

You looked at the way Lily was looking at her cards, there was a light tinge of red in her cheeks and you couldn’t help but smile, “She must have.”

“That’s good,” James said as he turned back towards the hall. “You should ask what she got at lunch.”

“Why’s that?”

“So you can tell me all about it in practice later,” he said as if it were obvious. “Now that you’re dating Moons, I’m your best friend, which means it is your duty to help me.”

“I’m not going to tell you everything that Lily says about you, James.”

“I can tell you everything that Sirius and Remus say about you in exchange–”

“No thank you,” you interrupted with a half laugh. “If either of them want me to know something, they’ll tell me themselves. And so will Lily with you.”

“I don’t know about that…”

“James,” you said, turning to him, causing the two of you to stop. “Do you really think she would stay quiet if something was bothering her? Lily Evans?”

He tilted his head to the side as he exhaled. “But what if her cards mentioned about us having children? What if they told her whether it’d be a boy or a girl?”

“I think your imagination is getting out of hand, Prongsie.”

“Is it impossible?” he asked. You were now near the stairs.

You thought about it for a second. A Two of Cups plus a character person could definitely predict at least some of the basic traits of a future child, but it would be too complicated to spot, and it would require a lot of suppositions. “Well, technically it isn’t impossible but–”

“See! She wouldn’t tell me that!”

“Because then you wouldn’t stop talking about it, Prongs, so it makes sense that she–” Suddenly you were yanked by the arm from the side. Perhaps it was more like an intentioned pull, but since you were walking so intently while looking almost solely at James, it felt like a way sharper pull than intended.

You turned to look at the hand grabbing onto your arm before looking at the owner. “We need to talk.”

“Hey!” James said as he snapped Evan’s hand from your arm. “That’s no way to treat a Lady!” As if he hadn’t yanked you way harder on multiple occasions while playing Quidditch. His dislike for the Slytherin was obvious, and any excuse would do.

Evan looked at James dismissively, as if he was nothing more than a nuisance, which was a lot coming from someone who had shied away from him with one look. “Don’t meddle, Potter,” Evan hissed. He then called your last name. “We need to talk.”

He had said that last bit in such an urgent manner, that you felt compelled to listen, even if Barty leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his annoyed expression hadn’t made you any more eager to do it than you were to go back and read someone’s cards from scratch.

“Just leave us alone, Rosier!” James said as he took a step forward.

“It’s okay, Prongs,” you said with a nod. “I’ll see what he has to say.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah,” you replied confidently. Prongs stood by your side, waiting.

Evan cleared his throat. “Do you mind?” he asked, trying not to sound as annoyed as he was.

James threw Evan a look and took a few steps backward, crossing his arms over his chest as he spotted Barty walking towards you.

You hadn’t talked to either of them since Christmas, regardless they had saved you, and since they had, you assumed the chances of them attacking you outright, were minimal. “So?”

“Hope you’re feeling better,” Evan said, as politely as he could. Then he hesitated and turned to Barty, as if he wanted his help with whatever it was he had to say. There was a rather tense silence, Barty rolled his eyes and turned to you.

“Your boyfriend is cheating on you.” You were startled by the information, so much so that you didn’t even react before he spoke again. “With your best friend.”

Evan turned to Barty, with what looked like shock. “We weren’t gonna tell her that!”

“I thought we were,” Barty said with a shrug.

“What?” Was the only thing you managed to respond.

“Remus and Sirius,” Evan said, he looked apologetic, like he thought it wasn’t right to tell you but at the same time it was the only right thing to do.

“Snape saw them, they were shagging in the Prefect’s Bathroom.”

Oh, you thought, you had been there. You couldn’t possibly tell them that, could you?

“Snape told you this?”

“And he wanted to tell the entire school, make you feel miserable in the process,” Barty said.

“You’d understand why we couldn’t allow that to happen, right? Same reason you helped me with my father?”

“I–”

“We obliviated him,” Barty said with a small proud smirk, almost imperceptible. He knew it was a complicated spell. “I didn’t want to tell you, but Evan insisted.”

“Right,” you said with a breath. “I– uh… I knew about that.”

“You knew they were cheating?” Evan asked, surprised, but in a whisper.

“No, I mean… They weren’t cheating.”

“So you’re their cover?” he asked, still confused. “I thought–”

“Not quite,” you said, before realising you could have just left them with that thought.

“What?”

Barty narrowed his eyes at you, and then he let out a breathy chuckle, sliding his tongue on the side of his cheek before looking to the side and shaking his head. He knew.

“Evan, Luv.” He said, the smug smile he had did not disappear as he spoke. “It seems she has an arrangement with them.”

“An arrangement?”

“The three of them are into each other,” Barty said confidently. And then there was another sharp intake of breath. “Now that I think about it, she was more surprised that Severus told us than about the fact that they’d been shagging.” He smiled. “Why do you think that is?”

“She knew,” Evan breathed.

“Perhaps,” Barty said as he took a step closer. He wasn’t as tall as Evan, and even Reggie was taller, but you suspected he was still going to stretch. “She was there.”

You kept your face as stoic as you could. Two more people to add to the list of those who knew, or rather, figured it out. “I appreciate the fact that you decided to tell me about it.” Barty raised an eyebrow. “And the fact that you obliviated that snake–”

Evan hissed, and Barty mouthed “careful”.

“–Severus,” you corrected. “For me.”

“You’re welcome,” Barty retorted cockily.

“It was nothing,” Evan said, much more politely.

“I’d also appreciate it if you didn’t talk about the thing that we– you know, the thing.”

“That you’re all fucking each other?” Barty asked nonchalantly and got a small slap on his arm from Evan.

You didn’t respond, just looked at him with slight exasperation. He knew how to get under your skin.

“We won’t say a thing,” Evan said with a small nod. “We’ll follow your example.”

“Thank you,” you said, looking at him and nodding slightly. He shrugged in return. You turned towards James, who was looking at the two of them with a mix of hatred and curiosity. “I have class, now,” you added as you pointed towards James.

Barty smiled. “Tell them to fuck themselves from my part when you see them,” he said as he waved. You turned to him with a rather pissed look and he smiled, adding, much lower this time, “Or each other.”

“Everything all right? What’s that all about?” James said as soon as you reached him.

“They know,” you said with a tired sight.

“They know what?”

“The details of my relationship,” you finished.

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A/N: Hey kiddos! I'm finally back! Took me some time but GC is returning with it's regular schedule at least until the middle of December. Also, I wanted to inform you guys that there is a proofreading position open for GC (Proofreaders usually get to read chapters a week in advance, so DM me if you're interested).

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bqstqnbruin · 2 days ago

Text

Friendsgiving

Hi so we are going to ignore the fact that it is nearly 2 am but here I am with a fic that I started today because of this tik tok that I saw a few hours ago and I immediately went 'fic'. So, here we are

Warnings: none

WC: 5845

Enjoy!

__________________________________________

“Why and how are you in Vancouver?”

“Don’t hate me.”

“Oh, my god, did you move to Canada without me? You moved and didn’t even tell me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at what you hoped was Lena’s unnecessary panic that you heard through your phone speaker, trying to navigate your way through the airport that you had never been to before. “No, I’m just probably doing something stupid.”

“And you’re doing it without me?”

“Leen, I’ll catch you up later, ok?”

“Am I going to have to make sure you don’t end up in a ditch?”

“You should probably watch my location for the next few days,” you say, in all seriousness. “But I have to go, I love you, bye.”

You hang up on your best friend as you hear her screaming on the other end about calling the authorities, knowing that she wouldn’t actually do that. Actually, she might. But you can’t think about that right now.

You were trying to find Brock, despite the fact that you had never met him in person and stupidly agreed to fly to Vancouver on a day's notice from your home the week of Thanksgiving.

You couldn’t believe the last couple of days of your life. You had posted a silly photo of you and your friends at your annual Friendsgiving. You always got together the Friday before, and had been doing so since middle school when your parents still had to either make the food for you, or had to be in the kitchen with you heavily supervising the entire time. This year was the 15th year in a row that you had all gotten together, celebrating in a much bigger fashion than you had in years past; you all dressed up, you all brought the food in the best serving dishes you had instead of the Dollar Tree tin dishes you all normally brought, you had the fanciest bottles of wine you could afford littering the table, and you had even all planned to stay over together for the first time, continuing the event into the morning.

Brock had messaged you because of the photo. You were mutuals, having some of the same friends in college but never actually interacted with each other.

All of your friends talked about how you two would get along so well, but it seemed like every time you were supposed to meet, something happened that prevented you from doing so. There was the one party you were supposed to go to with your friends, that you had been planning on going to all week until you got food poisoning from the dining hall. There was the class you were supposed to take together until his practice times got changed and ended up conflicting with the class. You were supposed to go to a formal together as each other's dates until he slept through his alarm and missed the bus to the venue.

You were always supposed to meet, until you didn’t.

But then you got the message from him a few days ago asking if you wanted to come to his Friendsgiving that he was going to with his American teammates.

It was easily the craziest thing you had done in your life, saying yes to flying out to Vancouver the next day to meet a guy you had never actually met in person, or really talked to before those messages.

It made you realize you really hadn’t done much with your life.

You walked through the airport, trying to see if you could find the guy you would be spending the next couple of days with by the baggage claim where he told you he would meet you.

You finally see him, the blonde head of hair sticking out to you for an unknown reason.

You knew from his pictures on his account that he was attractive, but, shit, he was gorgeous in person.

He was also dressed up way more than he should be for someone to be waiting for a stranger in an airport; he was in a full suit and tie, his hair looking like he had just gotten out of the shower and styled it immediately.

“Hi,” he says to you when he sees you, a smile on his face making your heart skip a beat.

You didn’t even know this guy. “Hi,” you manage to get out as he pulls you in for a hug. “You look good, all dressed up.”

Brock reaches for your bag, taking it off your shoulder and walking you out of the airport. “Thanks.”

“Why are you dressed up?”

“We’re on our way to the game.”

“We?”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Do I look like I’m dressed for a hockey game?”

Brock looks at you as the two of you approach his car, opening his trunk to put your bag in. “You look great to me.”

“I’m in sweats, fresh off a plane. When do you think you told me?”

“Uh,” he lets out as you get in his car. “Yesterday?”

You take out your phone, scrolling through the messages the two of you exchanged. “You told me you had a game, not that I was going to one.”

“Who did I tell that to yesterday?” he says, staring out through his front windshield, wracking his brain. You couldn’t help but laugh. “I can take you back to my place, if you want.”

“Would that make you late for the game?”

He glances at the clock, pulling out his phone. “Very late, yes.”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile that you couldn’t help. “I’ll go to the game. I’m sure I have something I can change into stuffed in my bag.”

The two of you fall into easy conversation, much like you had when he first reached out to you. There was something about him that was easy to talk to.

He pulls up to the arena, still talking about one of the parties you were both supposed to go to in college.

“Do you remember that one kid, Chris, who somehow threw up at every party he went to?” he asks you, leaning against his car as you rifle through your bag in his trunk, searching for any semblance of an outfit that was better than the sweats you were currently in.

“Hold on,” you tell him, climbing into the trunk and pulling the hatch closed, trying your best to change in the cramped space. You managed to find jeans and a black shirt that could pass as a non-airport outfit that you were smart enough to pack as a spare since Brock didn’t really give you a ton of information as to how the week was going to go. You could see him standing outside the car, dumbfounded by the abrupt nature of you practically commandeering his car as a changing room for yourself. “Ok, I’m good,” you say, opening the door back up in what you were sure was record time for changing in a car trunk.

“Wow,” he says, you noticing the slightest shade of red appearing on his cheeks.

“Better?” you ask. Your foot catches on part of the trunk as you try to get out, practically falling out of his car.

You feel Brock’s hands catch you, spreading across your back and under your legs. “Much,” he says, his face inches from yours. He clears his throat, his face turning bright red as he puts you down.

He wasn’t about to kiss you, was he? And why would you have been ok if he did that? “Thanks for that,” you tell him, embarrassment seeping into your voice.

“So, uh, Chris?” he asks, walking you into the arena with his hands now firming shoved into his pockets.

“He really did somehow end up in the bathroom at every party.”

“Even if he didn’t have anything to drink that night.”

“I wonder what he’s up to now?”

“He just got engaged, actually,” you tell him. “His fiance was one of my lab partners back in college.”

“Wow. Never would have known that,” he tells you. The two of you walk through what you could only describe as the tunnels of the arena, Brock showing you around and trying to explain to you what everything was.

“You’re gonna be in here,” he tells you, showing to a room that was filled with women and children who all seemed to know each other. Before you can ask anything, he checks his watch, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. “Shit, I’ve gotta get ready. I’ll meet you right here after the game.”

Brock runs off, leaving you standing at the entrance to this room that you could see was at ice level, filled with people you didn’t know.

You couldn’t enter the room. This was already ridiculous, you being here in the first place with a guy you just met for the first time in person less than an hour before. Now you were apparently supposed to go into this room with a bunch of people and do what? Talk to them?

No thank you.

You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, leaning against the wall next to the entrance of this room as Lena calls you again. “Ok, you did not fly all the way to Vancouver to see a Canucks game.”

“I’m going to stop sharing my location with you,” you laugh.

“Ok, spill, why the hell are you in Vancouver?”

You recount the whole string of events to her, realizing how ridiculous the whole situation sounded now that you were actually verbally articulating everything. “And now, I’m outside of this room with a bunch of women and I think this is where I’m supposed to be for the rest of the game.”

“Are you in the WAG room?”

“The what?”

“The WAG room.”

“No, I heard you,” you sigh, “What does that mean?”

“The wives and girlfriends.”

You stare at the wall on the other side of the hallway as people you ignored scurried around you. “But I’m not a wife or a girlfriend?”

“Well, as long as you have that established. I heard there’s supposed to be amazing food in those rooms for the families.”

You peek your head into the room, seeing a line of the women forming on the other side of the room in front of what looked like an incredible spread of food. “I can see that.”

“Go in!” Lena shrieks in your ear. “Have fun, make friends, and bring me some food when you get back.” She hangs up before you can say anything else, leaving you there with your phone pressed against your ear and no one on the other end of the call.

You finally work up the courage to go into the room, trying to slip in and stay in the back, out of the way of anyone who would feel the need to come to talk to you. You stay along the wall closest to the door, trying to take in the room around you. There were children seemingly everywhere, running and shrieking as they played with each other. Toys were scattered all over the floor, bags lined against the wall. You probably looked like a freak the way you were moving through the room, trying to find a seat that you could sink into and become invisible in.

“Shit,” you let out, slamming down onto the floor, tripping over one of the toys you were somehow too busy to notice.

“Are you ok?” one of the women asks you, crouching down on the floor to meet you at what was now, embarrassingly, eye level.

You could feel your face getting hot. “Other than my ego being bruised, I think I’m good.”

“I haven’t seen you before,” she says to you. “I’m Lexie. I’m Thatcher’s wife.”

You had no idea who Thatcher was, but it probably wouldn’t look good for you if you admitted that.

You introduce yourself, finally getting up off the floor and dusting yourself off. “I’m here with Brock.”

Lexie’s eyes light up with excitement. “You must be Brock’s mystery girl.” The room seems to go silent when Lexie practically shrieks that, even the children making no noise. “He had been telling us he was seeing someone, but we never thought he would bring you to a game early.”

“Oh, I,” you start, getting nervous now that all eyes were on you. You had no idea what he had told these women, or their husbands, or boyfriends, or whoever these people were. “Here I am.”

“I can’t believe Brock would just throw you to the wolves like this,” Lexie says, linking her arm with yours and walking you over to the food table.

“Are you kidding?” another one of the women chimes in. “This is exactly something Brock would do. I’m Natalie, by the way, J.T.’s wife.”

The two women start chatting your ear off, you unable to comprehend what they were saying. Brock had a ‘mystery girl,’ that you had now taken on the identity of. Brock was probably seeing someone who couldn’t be there this week and now he was going to look like an awful human when you suddenly disappeared and were replaced with another person next week.

But, why did you care? You barely knew Brock.

You had no idea how much time passed by when they all start filtering out the seats near the ice, the players skating around in circles.

You join them, unsure what else to do. You pull out your phone, getting an idea and starting to type in a new note, trying to wave Brock over to the boards when you finally get his attention.

They think I’m your ‘mystery girl??? you show him with your phone screen pressed against the glass when he comes over. The color seems to drain from his face, mouthing ‘I’m sorry,’ and shrugging way too casually for your liking before practically sprinting away from you to the other side of the rink.

You head back into the room, beelining for the exit and pulling up Lena’s number.

“Brock told everyone he and I are dating?” you try not to scream too loudly, hoping that none of the people in the room or in the hallway

“Oh,” Lena says. “That’s not great.”

“Not great?” you say, running your hand through your hair, feeling yourself panic. “This is crazy. What if this turns into a psycho killer situation?’

“He’s way too high profile in the area to get away with killing you.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“I’m just saying he wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Adelena,” you stomp your foot like a child out of frustration, using your friend's full name.

“Ok, calm down,” she says. “There’s no need for the government name here. I think you just need to talk to him after the game and figure out what’s going on. I will fly out there and save you if I have to.”

You take in a deep breath. This was the dumbest thing you could have done, regret seeping into you with every passing moment that you spent in Vancouver. “I’ll let you know.” You go back in the room, trying to pay attention to the game as the people around you milled about, trying to get to know you and about your ‘relationship’ with Brock.

“How long have you two been going out?” Lexie asks eagerly.

“Um,” you panic, “Not that long, honestly. This is all really new.” That wasn’t a total lie.

“How did you two even meet?”

“We went to college together.”

Before Lexie could ask you another question that you probably didn’t have an answer to, a toddler runs up to her, crying. “Gotta go,” she says to you, lifting the toddler and trying to comfort them.

You sat and tried to watch the rest of the game, writing down everything you told Lexie in hopes that Brock would have said something similar. You spent the rest of the game on your phone texting with Lena, thankful that no one else in the room came up to you to talk to you or ask questions the way Lexie had, only going back to the ice and looking up from your screen to see Brock scoring.

You wait outside the room for Brock once the game was over, his teammates coming out much faster than he was as the hallway and the room behind you slowly emptied out, leaving you alone in the hallway.

“What the fuck,” you ask him when you finally see him.

“I’m sorry, I know,” he tells you, walking out to his car.

“I don’t care if you need me to pretend to date you, but I would have liked to know about it before you threw me into the Gossip Grotto.”

Brock exhales when he gets into the car, resting his head against the steering wheel while you stared at him with your arms crossed in front of you. “The guys keep bugging me about not dating anyone so I told them I was seeing someone to get them to shut up.”

“And you didn’t think that was relevant to mention when you invited me here that there was a good chance they would think I’m the girl you’re dating?”

“No. I figured they would have forgotten about it by now.”

“Well, their wives didn’t.”

“So what do we do?”

You stare at him. “I could leave on the next flight and get out of here and probably be mad at you forever. Or, we pretend we’re together.”

He whips his head to you, his eyes crazy with shock. “What?”

You shrug, pulling out your phone and showing him the notes you made during the game about you and him being together. “We fake date. I’m only here until Wednesday, and you said we were only going to be seeing your friends on Tuesday night. We have plenty of time to figure this out.”

“We have a day and a half.”

You scoff. “You think I haven’t figured out more complicated things in less time? I got a plane ticket and got myself here on twelve hours notice.”

“So, we fake date?”

“We fake date.”

_____________________________

“What are you doing?” you ask, walking into Brock’s kitchen the next morning, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You spent the night in his guest room, sleeping in what was probably the most comfortable bed you had ever slept in. You spent the night before starting to hash out the story you would tell his teammates and their partners, agreeing that you would only share information about the two of you if you were directly asked about it.

“Debating whether or not to make us breakfast,” he tells you, one hand on his hip, the other holding open the fridge door. Brock had on no socks, boxer shorts and a t-shirt, all of which showed off to you just how unfair his entire physique was. His hair was messy in a somehow perfect way that would have made you drool under any other context. You could pretend to drool over him, but real drooling was out of the question right now.

“What’s the other option?”

He closes the fridge door, turning to face you. “I don’t make breakfast and we go out for food instead.”

“How good are you at making breakfast?”

“I make a mean bowl of cereal.”

“We’re going out for breakfast, get dressed.”

“Wow, my girlfriend is bossy,” he smirks as you walk away, looking over your shoulder at him and sticking your tongue out.

Was that too flirty? You had agreed last night that flirting was ok so you could ‘get used to it.’ How could you flirt in front of other people if you had never done it before?

You call Lena while you were getting ready.

“You could just real date him,” you hear her suggest, crunching on something on the other end of the line.

“You could just give me real advice and not chew on something in my ear.”

“It’s morning, let me eat my apple,” Lena says, obviously with her mouth full. “What are you guys doing today?”

“Right now, getting ready for breakfast. Beyond that, watch my location.”

“Yeah, I have no job. I can just stalk you all day.”

“If I end up dead how are you going to know?”

“Ugh, fine,” she sighs. “Have fun, don’t die.”

She hangs up, leaving you alone to get dressed for a day you didn’t know the details of. You pull on leggings and a sweater, your sneakers on and grabbed a jacket that you didn’t even know if you needed. You head back out to Brock’s kitchen, finding him leaning against the counter on his phone.

“You need to change,” you tell him. He had on black jeans and the same color sweater as you.

“This could be a cute couple thing,” he jokes. “We could take a picture together and post it, or something.” You hesitate, walking over to Brock as he extends his hand with his camera open. “At least pretend to like me,” he tells you, plastering a smile on his face as he starts taking photo after photo.

You rest your hand on his chest, leaning into him and smiling at his camera. You did look good together, if you had to admit.

“Can you do one where you kiss my cheek?’

“What?”

“Don’t couples do that?’

You stare at him for a second. Would it be weird to do that? He asked you to do it. “I normally scroll past those photos.”

“Me, too.” The two of you stand in silence for a second, neither of you sure how to go on. “Maybe we don’t do that. Too much, too soon.” You nod in agreement.

“So, where are we going?”

Brock smiles at you, leading you out the door.

_____________________________

The breakfast he took you to was amazing. He said that he had an entire day for you planned as a thank you for coming out here in the first place.

“How are you with hiking?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“How long the trail is.”

Brock laughs, putting his car in park in front of a water front.

“If we don’t stop, it’ll take two hours.”

“That seems like a long time.”

“That’s how long my games are.”

“Yeah, that was a long time,” you tease him, getting out of the car.

The trail was beautiful, a breeze off the water cooling you down as you walked alongside Brock. This could easily have been a real date if the two of you were actually together.

You shake your head slightly of the thought. This was just supposed to be you helping him out, even though that wasn’t the original purpose of your trip. “So what are you supposed to do for Friendsgiving tomorrow night?”

Brock stops walking, the person behind him nearly knocking into him as he scolds Brock for stopping in the middle of the trail. You pull him over to the side of the walkway, ignoring the spark that you swore ran through you as laced your fingers in his.

“I have no idea, actually.”

“So you’re off to a great start.”

“I think I was told to bring something in the group chat,” he says, using his free hand to pull out his phone and start scrolling through the message thread that seemed to go on forever, your hands still intertwined. You weren’t sure he even noticed at this point, but part of you didn’t want to be the one to break the connection between you. “Ah, mac and cheese.”

“Have you ever made homemade mac and cheese before?”

“It has to be homemade?”

You roll your eyes, starting to walk again with your hands still locked together. “Did you think it would just magically spawn in front of you once you got to Quinn’s place?”

“I only have boxes of the store brand of mac and cheese.”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, pulling out your phone and finding the recipe you make for yourself when you have motivation. “Can you use Quinn’s oven when you get there or will he not have space?”

He quickly types on his phone as the two of you keep walking. “Yeah, we can as long as it doesn’t take too long,” he tells you, showing you the message from Quinn.

You nod, scrolling to the recipe on the website. “What do you have from these ingredients?”

Brock quickly scans the list, nodding along and mouthing each component to himself. “I have the flour, salt, and pepper.”

“So you were supposed to be making mac and cheese and you had neither the mac nor the cheese?”

“That would be correct.”

“Oh my god,” you groan again. Brock stops walking, pulling you off to the side of the trail again. “What?” Brock gestures to the water in front of you, the sun making the ripples shine, the sky absolutely pristine. “Wow,” you let out.

“What do you think?” you hear him ask, not taking your attention away from the sight in front of you.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is.” You look over at him, seeing him tuck his phone away into his pocket, his eyes on you instead of the view.

_____________________________

“Why was getting all of this way harder than I thought it would be?” Brock asks, putting the bags of groceries on the counter.

“Because you had no idea where anything in the store was and we had to keep doubling back for things we missed the first time.”

“You really have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“We’re dating, isn’t that something you’re supposed to know?”

Brock laughs, pulling out pans and bowls from his cabinets as you start to get everything prepared for the mac and cheese. You tell him what to do, giving him step-by-step instructions.

“This is nice,” he tells you.

You think for a moment, shredding the cheese into a bowl. The recipe called for more cheese than any recipe you had ever made before, and somehow the mountain of cheese in front of you still didn’t feel like enough. “It is.”

“My mom and dad used to cook like this,” he tells you, his voice somber as he comes up behind you.

“Yeah?”

“She would tell him what to do and he would do it. Badly, but he would try his best.” You laugh along with him. He had told you that his father had passed away a couple of years ago, but you didn’t know anything else about him other than what she could find with a quick google search that now, in a weird way, felt like an invasion of privacy. “We could always tell which things Dad helped with because they tasted just a little off.”

“You miss him, don’t you?” you say, slowing down your shredding and turning towards him. He was facing you again, his arm around you but not touching you, resting on the counter on the other side of you.

“Always.”

You swore he was going to lean in, his eyes flickering down to your lips. You clear your throat, turning back to the cheese. “You should check the pasta to see if it’s almost done or not.”

Brock nods, smiling and winking at you before doing what he was told.

_____________________________

“This is all fake.”

“And?”

“It doesn’t feel fake.”

“Well, you aren’t a great actress, are you?”

“Lena,” you whine.

“I saw you try out for The Little Mermaid in middle school.”

You had texted her once the mac and cheese was done and you were back in what Brock now referred to as ‘your room,’ panicking that he had almost kissed you again. What if you were just reading into things? You felt stupid to think that he was doing anything more than pretending for the sake of getting used to things for tomorrow, right?

“Is there a chance for this to turn into something not fake?”

“Considering he lives in a different country, unless you want me to actually move to Canada without you, no.”

“Do you want it to be something that isn’t fake?”

You hesitate, knowing that Lena had a stupid smirk on her face that would turn into some sort of ‘I told you so,’ later in the conversation. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

You sigh. “He’s great, but I’ve known him for two days. You don’t fall for someone like that in two days, it’s absurd.”

“Jack and Rose did in Titanic.”

“And that’s fiction, not real life.”

“Ok, if you had more than two days, then what?”

“Then, I don’t know. Maybe?”

“So, what do you do about it?”

“What can I do, Leen?” You flop down on the bed. “I’m here for less than two days before I leave and probably never talk to him again. The best this can be is fake.”

_____________________________

“Are you ready for this?” Brock asks you, handing you one of the trays of food you made. “No.”

He smiles at you. “Me neither.”

You head towards the door of Quinn’s place, ready to be as overwhelmed with the people you were about to encounter as you were two days prior at the game, even if you had already met most of these people.

Lexie is the first one to greet you, somehow, through the chaos of everyone else around you. She leads the two of you into the kitchen, even though Brock already knows his way around. “I’m stealing her,” she tells Brock, grabbing you by the hand and leading you off to another room while all the guys stand around the kitchen island, somehow the ones in charge of the food.

“It is so good to see Brock so happy,” she tells you, handing you a glass of wine as she poured one for herself. The two of you were alone in the room she pulled you into, leaving you amazed that with that many people in the house, there was even an empty room to begin with. “I mean, those photos he posted of you? You are the most photogenic person I have ever seen.”

“Uh, yeah,” you tell her, knowing that you have to stop stammering everytime you try to give someone an answer.

“You don’t know about the pictures?” You shake your head. She prompts you to pull up Brock’s page, the most recent pictures one from yesterday.

You scroll through the carousel. The first one, as you saw, was the one of you two before you went out for the day. The second one was one of you in the airport, looking for him. You thought you looked awful, but somehow, he made you look good. The third from the game the other night, one of the photographers probably captured a photo after he scored of him looking at you and smiling at him before he heads to the bench. The fourth and fifth were ones you had no idea he took; when you were looking out at the water yesterday, smiling at the sight while your hair somehow perfectly framed your face, and while you were hunched over the cheese, grating too many cups of the stuff for today.

“He’s in deep,” Lexie smirks, drinking her wine.

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks as you looked at the photos, which he captioned, Thankful for you, with your handle tagged.

“Now it makes sense why I’m getting so many notifications,” you joke, setting your glass down on the table in front of you. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go find the bathroom.”

You head back towards the kitchen, hoping to find Brock there.

“I’m surprised you actually are dating someone,” you hear someone’s voice in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Brock responds.

“I thought you made her up,” another voice agrees with the first.

“I’m not Quinn, I wouldn’t do that,” Brock lies.

“That was one time when I was in sixth grade,” the first voice argues.

You hear Brock laugh, your heart fluttering at the sound, immediately hating yourself for that. You’ve known him for a few days, why did you have to remind yourself about that?

“How long have you guys even been together?” Your heart stops,hoping Brock remembered all the things they talked about the last few days. She knew what he should say, but that didn’t mean he would say it.

“Only about two months, I think.”

“You think?”

“Petey, you know he’s not good with time.”

You finally work up the nerve to walk into the room, seeing Brock’s face light up at the sight of you.

He was faking it.

“Hey, babe,” he says, pulling you close and kissing the side of your head.

“God, you two aren’t going to be the kind of couple who overdo the PDA, are you?” Petey asks.

“Only if you piss us off,” Brock says, not taking his eyes off you.

“So, um,” you say, coming back to reality and turning to the other two. “Everything looks great.”

Quinn looks at the clock on the oven. “We should probably eat soon. The food should be in a couple of minutes.”

“We’ll get everything on the table,” Brock volunteers the two of you, grabbing one of the plates and handing them to you.

“Everything is going well, so far, I think,” you whisper to him once you’re out of earshot of the others.

“Everyone thinks we’re actually together. I think we might pull it off.”

_____________________________

The rest of the night went surprisingly well, the attention largely kept off the two of you most of the time as the team seemed to be more interested in teasing each other while their partners rolled their eyes at the guys’ antics. Brock drove you back in silence, a smile on his face the entire time.

You headed to bed, knowing that you were going to be leaving when you woke up the next morning, part of you dreading the moment Brock would drop you off at the airport.

He pulled up to the terminal, neither of you moving once he put the car in park.

“Can I admit something?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“I don’t think I want you to leave.”

You look at him. “I don’t really want to leave.”

“But,” he starts.

“I have to.”

Brock gets out of the car before you could say anything else, heading to grab your bag from his trunk.

“We were good at fake dating, though,” he says, handing you your bag.

You nod as he pulls you in for a hug. “Was all of it fake?” You don’t know what compelled you to ask that, other than you not thinking before you speak.

Brock smiles, his arms still wrapped around you. Before you can fully process it, his lips find yours, a sweet, slow kiss as your lips moved together, his hand on the small of your back pressing you into him.

“No.”

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