#felix rosier x slytherin!mc

[domaslut]

MC spilling tea.

[carewyncromwell]

 “It's time to stand up -- stand up! Show me what you're made of! Hands up, hands up! Fight the fear...fight the fear! Rise up from the ground -- Gonna make you a believer!”

~”The Fear” by the Score

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a sincere thank you to @catohphm​, @jackies-ear69​, @hphm-jeniferltheman​, and @ariparri​ for brainstorming about MC’s friends’ boggarts with me!

x~x~x~x

The year she took on the task of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, Patricia Rakepick soon became many students’ favorite professor. Scholarly sorts like Rowan Khanna appreciated her extensive knowledge of the subject, while more avant-garde sorts like Jae Kim and Nymphadora Tonks liked her dry sense of humor. This didn’t even touch aspiring Cursebreakers Bill Weasley and Merula Snyde, both of whom Rakepick had a pointed interest in and greatly esteemed Rakepick for her skills.

There were students who didn’t take to Rakepick as well as others, though. Ben Copper could never completely relax around Rakepick, thanks in large part to how critically her eye always seemed to fall on him. Even serial rulebreaker Tulip Karasu got bad vibes from Rakepick, suspecting ulterior motives to the professor’s seemingly more kindly actions. 

And of course there was the last student Rakepick had taken a targeted liking to, and arguably the strongest liking at that -- Hogwarts’ infamous Cursebreaker, Carewyn Cromwell.

Carewyn had distrusted Rakepick from the moment she first arrived at Hogwarts the previous year to supposedly help deal with the Cursed Vaults, and Carewyn’s opinion hadn’t softened toward Gringotts’s Head Cursebreaker anymore now that she was a professor. Even when Rakepick ended up saving Carewyn from an Imperiused Ben the previous school year, it only served to make Carewyn all the more wary of Rakepick’s intentions. After all, Carewyn couldn’t help but think, how was it that Rakepick caught up with her and Ben so fast, that night? Had she been keeping tabs on her? However concerned Rakepick had seemed for Carewyn, the Cursebreaker still left her, Bill, Charlie, Hagrid, and Torvus to deal with the Forest Vault, rather than going with them or dealing with it herself. Even now that Rakepick was a professor, she kept trying to get Carewyn, Bill, and Merula to work “with her” (read: under her leadership) to reach the next Cursed Vault. Admittedly Carewyn planned on searching for the next Vault and rescuing Jacob with or without help...but she couldn’t help but agree with Tulip that Rakepick clearly had her own motives. The Head Cursebreaker had even said herself that she intended to find the Cursed Vaults and “reveal their secrets” -- therefore Rakepick was mainly interested in retrieving the Vaults’ so-called “treasure”...something Carewyn didn’t give a damn about, in the face of finding and saving her brother.

Carewyn’s distrust of her didn’t seem to bother Rakepick in the slightest, though. If anything, the professor only seemed to expect more from Carewyn and single her out in class more because of it. 

Once Rakepick quizzed the entire class on protective wards, only to insist that Carewyn tell her the difference between Protego Diabolica and Protego Horribilis. (Carewyn correctly explained that the first was a Dark curse intended to kill any enemies who tried to cross the boundary, while the second was a strong form of the Shield Charm specifically intended to protect against Dark curses, and Rakepick awarded Slytherin ten points before moving on.) 

Another time, when Rakepick brought an entire swarm of pixies for the fifth-year class to defend themselves against, the professor insisted that Carewyn use a spell other than Immobulus, the spell they’d been actively studying, to stop them -- apparently Rakepick knew Carewyn had gotten help with the spell from her ex-Prefect, Felix Rosier, in the past and she thought that the assignment would be too easy for her on its own. (Carewyn responded to the challenge by using Impedimenta to slow down each pixie enough that she could levitate them one by one back into their cage with a Locomotion Charm before closing it -- a solution that brought a satisfied smirk to Rakepick’s face.)

It was therefore no surprise in late October when Rakepick decided to give her fifth-years a proper review on boggarts, the Cursebreaker-turned-professor had Carewyn come up to the front of the class first to deal with the creature.

Carewyn was a bit startled despite herself.

Rakepick’s lips turned up in a smirk.

Carewyn frowned deeply at Rakepick.

“Of course not,” she said with a faint huff. 

She glanced over her shoulder at the rest of her class with a grimmer look, her jaw setting as she rose to her feet.

“...I should let you know, though,” she spoke very clearly despite her eyes being averted and her voice being low, “my boggart is You-Know-Who.”

A few of her classmates exchanged glances. Rakepick’s eyebrows raised.

“That is not an uncommon fear, Miss Cromwell,” said the professor.

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed a bit without looking up.

“I know,” she said curtly. Her gaze lingered on the desk she’d been sharing with Badeea. “That’s why I want to make sure everyone knows it -- I don’t want to scare them.”

Rakepick’s confident look seemed to darken, becoming a bit grimmer as well. “You won’t have to, Miss Cromwell. The boggart will do a good enough job of that -- your classmates may as well just accept it.”

Carewyn looked up at last, her eyes narrowing a bit more, as Rakepick indicated the box to the side of her desk with a clipped nod.

“You may begin when ready. Though I’d advise you not to keep me waiting -- I only have so much time allotted to me for this lesson.”

Carewyn pursed her lips. Walking purposefully around her and Badeea’s desk, she shot a glance back behind her. Her eyes glided over Rowan, Ben and Charlie quickly before finding Talbott; when Carewyn made eye contact with him, the Ravenclaw straightened up a bit, his hawk-like eyes narrowing a bit upon her face as he nodded.

I’m okay, his look seemed to tell her.

Carewyn inhaled quietly through her nose, giving him a very short nod in return, before she faced the wardrobe, her wand held high.

“...Alohomora.”

With a shriek of the hinges, the box’s lid was thrown open, and a huge, black mass erupted out of it. The huge black cloak was accompanied by skull-white, spider-like hands and the face of a monstrous man -- one tall and pale with heartless red slits for eyes.

A couple of people in the class inhaled sharply despite themselves, seeing the Dark Lord Voldemort standing before their classmate. Rakepick, however, spoke to them with dry reassurance.

“Don’t you, Miss Cromwell?”

Carewyn kept her focus solely on her boggart rather than respond. Raising her wand, she pointed it right at her target and bellowed,

“Riddikulus!”

CRACK.

In an instant, Voldemort was seated at a full dining table of Mrs. Weasley’s home cooking with a red and white checkered napkin comically tied around his neck, looking completely bewildered.

Charlie laughed loudly, but louder still was Barnaby, who actually got up from his seat.

“It’s just like I said!” he said excitedly through his laughter. “It must be impossible for You-Know-Who to enjoy any good food without a nose!”

Others started to laugh too -- even Talbott had to chuckle. Carewyn bit her lip as she grinned in amusement too.

“Quite good, Miss Cromwell,” said Rakepick, very pleased. “All right, now, class, prepare yourselves -- when I call you up, you shall come forth and face your boggart. When you see your fear, think up a way to turn it into something humorous -- then cast Riddikulus to defeat it. Ready now...Mr. Lee!”

Barnaby eagerly scampered around the desk, raising his wand. 

“I’m ready for this!” he told Carewyn brightly. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since we went into the Fear Vault...”

Boggart Voldemort shifted his gaze over to Barnaby, his red eyes flashing --

CRACK.

The boggart had become a clown -- a rather menacing, fanged, Voldemort-looking clown, but still a clown.

“Riddikulus!” said Barnaby.

CRACK.

A bucket of water appeared over the demonic clown’s head, before turning over and splashing all over it -- it sputtered in confusion as all of its face paint was washed off and its curly red hair lay like flat curtains around its face.

Barnaby gave a fist pump. “Yes!”

“Good job, Barnaby,” Carewyn said, beaming proudly.

“Miss Tonks!” said Rakepick.

Tonks darted forward just as eagerly. The sopping wet clown shifted his gaze over to her -- then, with another CRACK, it had become herself, only with mousy brown hair and eyes, colorless, friendless, and insecure -- 

Tonks, without her Metamorphagus abilities.

“Riddikulus!” laughed Tonks.

CRACK.

Boggart Tonks had shifted into Tulip, holding up a bottle of hair dye potion and laughing as loudly as Tonks herself. The real Tulip was also laughing from her own desk.

“Disguising yourself as someone and wigging them out -- that is a good idea for a prank, Tonks!” Tulip called out with a wicked grin.

“Mr. Winger!”

Talbott leapt up onto his feet, sweeping across the room with the grace of a bird coming in for a landing.

CRACK.

Boggart Tulip had transformed into a black-hooded figure holding a wand alight with acid green, the Dark Mark glowing in the sky over his head -- a Death Eater set to kill him like they had his parents --

“Riddikulus!” Talbott spat out with venom.

CRACK.

The Death Eater’s cloak seemed to expand into strips of fabric that lashed around it in strips, wrapping the frantically wriggling figure up tightly like a mummy.

“See, Andre?” said Talbott with a cool smirk over his shoulder. “I told you long cloaks only get in your way.”

Andre crossed his arms, his face appearing rather sassy. “A stylish person knows how to wear a cloak properly...and also doesn’t consider wearing American-style cowboy hats unironically in public -- ”

“Mr. Weasley!” Rakepick cut off the two Ravenclaws’ debate at the legs.

Charlie hopped nimbly right over his desk and zipped up to the front.

CRACK.

The boggart had become a very official-looking desk piled high with paperwork stamped with the purple seal of the Ministry of Magic.

“Being stuck working in an office for the rest of my life,” Charlie explained helpfully to Carewyn, and he gave a shudder. “Still reckon Mum wants me to go that way, like Dad did...”

Carewyn offered him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll never belong in an office, Charlie.”

Charlie grinned as he faced the boggart. “Yeah -- I guess it is pretty ‘Riddikulus!’”

CRACK.

The desk chair was suddenly filled by Charlie’s brother Percy, who’d organized all of the paperwork perfectly -- only for his younger twin brothers Fred and George to barrel on through on their brooms and send the tall stacks of papers flying.

“Miss Haywood!”

Penny, as devil-may-care as she usually was, hesitated just a bit before running up to the front. Her face hardened with focus and determination, even as her wand hand trembled.

CRACK.

The boggart had transformed into a hulking, furry werewolf, its fangs dripping with blood as it growled ferociously.

Carewyn shot a quick look over at Chiara. Her face had gone very white as she shrank back in her seat.

“RIDDIKULUS!” Penny shouted as loudly as she could, even as her voice cracked.

CRACK. The werewolf became a giant stuffed toy, which flopped down to the floor face-first.

“Mr. Caplan!”

Diego had been ready a good five minutes ago -- he slid right in front of Penny with the grace of a dancer, his wand raised.

CRACK. The boggart became a wrinkled, hunched-over old woman in ragged clothes with a face shaped like Diego’s. She clearly wasn’t human, though -- she smelled horribly, like rotten eggs and petrol, she grunted and groaned like a zombie, and her eyes bulged unnaturally out of their sockets.

“That’s La Tunda!” said Rowan. “Tundas are shapeshifting creatures that make themselves look like your loved ones in order to lure you in, trap you, and then drain you of your blood.”

“Take five points to Slytherin for anticipating one of my future lessons, Miss Khanna,” Rakepick said very lightly.

Diego’s hand clenched that little bit more tightly around his wand, murmuring something very quietly under his breath before pointing his wand at the boggart.

“Riddikulus!”

CRACK.

In an instant, a flock of monarch butterflies flew out of Diego’s wand, attacking the Tunda and knocking it backward off their feet. The rest of the class laughed, though Diego gave a slightly weaker laugh himself.

“Sorry, Abuela,” he said sheepishly. “I don’t like the butterflies anymore than you do...”

“Miss Murk!” said Rakepick.

CRACK. The boggart became four people, all of whom looked very clean-cut and uptight -- the youngest of them, a girl who looked identical to the older sister standing beside her -- had Ismelda’s face.

“Riddikulus!” Ismelda cried, her mouth spread into an almost manic smirk.

CRACK. The four people were all splashed with mud, and the other three members of the family ran off in disgust and humiliation as Boggart Ismelda splashed happily in the mud puddle by herself.

“Mr. Kim!”

CRACK. The boggart became a cold, empty house with no furniture and barren cabinets with no blankets, clothes, or food.

“Riddikulus!” shouted Jae.

CRACK. The house fell apart like a movie set, revealing a bunch of TV crew shouting at each other in Korean about the poor craftsmanship.

“Miss Lobosca!”

CRACK. The boggart became a rather pretty girl with curly brown hair, curled up in a ball in the corner and her wide, terrified eyes streaming with tears.

“Get off of me!” she screamed. “Get away from me -- !”

Selina, Carewyn realized in horror.

Chiara’s face had lost all of its color, but she faced Boggart Selina with a very strained, strangely gentle expression.

“Riddikulus,” she whispered.

CRACK. Selina became Tonks, doubled over in fits of laughter from a Tickling Charm.

“All right!” she choked through her laughter. “All right, you win -- you’re better at the Tickling Charm than I am!”

The real Tonks laughed too. “Oh come on, Chiara -- no need to rub it in!”

Chiara gave both Boggart Tonks and the real Tonks a very small smile before looking up at Carewyn. Seeing the concern in her friend’s face, Chiara gave her her best reassuring smile.

“Are you -- ?” started Carewyn, but before she could finish, Rakepick had already called up that one Gryffindor boy who was terrible at Wingardium Leviosa to take his turn.

CRACK. A laughing crowd of students became a surprise birthday party.

CRACK. A mirror reflection turning invisible became an incomplete portrait being painted by an admirer.

CRACK. A demonic-looking Merula Snyde was suddenly decked out in bright pink and ribbons, crowing about loving lollypops and unicorns. (This one in particular prompted Merula to take out her wand and threaten to hex both Tulip and Carewyn in the face for how hard they were laughing.)

“Miss Khanna!” barked Rakepick, so as to put a stop to the escalating fight.

Rowan dutifully came up to the front of the room, her shoulders locked beside her head and her wand held high with determination.

CRACK.

Whatever Rowan or anyone else had been expecting, it wasn’t what the boggart became. Instead, it transformed into the spitting image of Carewyn.

The class looked from the fake Carewyn to the real one, incredibly taken back. Rowan faltered.

“Carewyn?” she said.

Boggart Carewyn, however, didn’t answer. Instead she merely turned on her heel and started to walk away.

“Carewyn!” said Rowan.

Forgetting herself, she reached out as if to grab Boggart Carewyn’s shoulder, only for her hand to get knocked out of the way. A fake Charlie Weasley had appeared out of nowhere wrapped his arm around Boggart Carewyn’s shoulder and was steering her away.

“Come on, Carey -- let’s go play Quidditch!”

Rowan flinched. Out of nowhere also appeared a fake Bill, wrapping his other arm around Carewyn and continuing to steer her away.

“Now, Charlie, don’t forget, Carey and I still have to deal with the Vaults -- ”

“Hey, Cursebreaker!” a fake Andre’s voice called out in the distance. “Still up for a midnight broom ride tonight?”

“Carewyn!” called another voice in the distance that almost sounded like Barnaby’s. “Carewyn, you just gotta see this new Mooncalf at the Magical Creature Preserve -- ”

“Carewyn, I just finished listening to the CD you sent me over break -- ” said a voice vaguely like Chiara’s. 

“I don’t suppose you have any time to give this a read, Carewyn?” said a voice like Talbott’s.

Soon the voices were all piling up on each other. One kind of like Liz’s -- one kind of like Tonks’s -- kind of like Orion Amari’s -- one like Rosmerta’s, and Hagrid’s, and Rakepick’s --

Rowan’s dark eyes had become very wide behind her glasses. She’d gone very quiet and her wand hand had fallen slack at her side. Carewyn looked from the boggart to Rowan, her concern giving way to alarm, as she dashed forward -- Rakepick, however, stopped her, sweeping in front of Rowan first.

“Step back and collect yourself, Miss Khanna,” she said brusquely. “I don’t need Miss Cromwell throwing herself in front of you to protect you.”

Rowan blinked rapidly, awareness and then shame flooding her face, as Rakepick tossed her hair to look over her shoulder.

“Mr. Copper!” the professor said sharply. “You next!”

Ben looked as if he wanted nothing less than to leave his desk. Still, knowing he had no choice, he swallowed back the lump in his throat and -- raising his wand -- stumbled forward.

Boggart Carewyn -- still flanked by the fake Charlie and Bill -- turned to look over her shoulder at Ben, her blue eyes oddly blank and penetrating. Then, in a moment, the shapes all seemed to contort together, morphing and twisting --

CRACK.

The boggart disappeared completely. The entire class stiffened, staring at the spot where the creature had been. The silence dragged. Then, suddenly...

Attack.

A voice filled the room. It was a cold male voice that dripped through everyone’s ears with the softness of silk and the frigidness of icy water -- a voice that made Ben crumple in on himself like a piece of paper.

“No,” he whispered.

Attack. Again. Attack.

“No -- no, no -- ”

The boggart Carewyn had reappeared -- but this time, she wasn’t the least bit nonchalant. This time she was crumpled up on the ground, her eyes very wide as spells from nowhere rained down on her, cutting at her face and clothes and blasting her wand out of her hand.

The real Carewyn moved forward. “Ben -- !”

Once again, though, Rakepick stopped her, this time by actually taking hold of her arm.

“You can’t save your friends from their own demons, Miss Cromwell,” she said very lowly.

Do it, said the voice filling the room. Finish her. Kill h --

“DEPULSO!” Ben screamed.

BAM.

The boggart Carewyn was blasted backwards. It seemed to flicker, for an instant becoming Merula, and then the clown, and then the werewolf, before hitting the wall. Ben, however, had not lowered his wand -- his brown eyes were wide with terror as he pointed it at the boggart again.

“STUPEFY!”

The stunning spell knocked the boggart right back into the open trunk with so much force that it lost consciousness. Then Ben pointed his wand at the trunk and cast “Colloportus!” to lock it. 

Breathing hard, Ben looked up at Rakepick, who was frowning deeply as she released Carewyn, crossing her arms. 

“I don’t believe I said anything about locking that boggart back in its cabinet, Mr. Copper,” said the professor very coldly.

Ben bowed his head in shame.

“...No, professor,” he said very quietly.

“And yet you did it,” Rakepick challenged him.

Ben swallowed. “I...didn’t know how to make the Imperius Curse funny, professor.”

Rakepick’s eyes narrowed as her eyebrows rose. “Your lack of creativity doesn’t excuse not following the assignment.”

Carewyn was outraged.

“Ben used quite a bit of creativity,” she defended her friend fiercely. “He knew he couldn’t defeat his boggart with laughter like the others did, but he still came up a way to defend himself and everyone else from it. If that isn’t ‘Defense Against the Dark Arts,’ I don’t know what is.”

“If you truly knew all that Defense Against the Dark Arts encompasses, then you would not be a student sitting in my classroom, Miss Cromwell,” Rakepick reminded her very coolly. “Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Copper, for putting an end to our lesson early by stunning and re-trapping our boggart without direction. Mr. Copper and Miss Khanna, you shall face your boggarts again next week with Messrs. Hayden and Egwu and Misses Ali, Tuttle, and Snyde -- and in that class, I expect a proper demonstration of Riddikulus.”

Merula shot a scornful look over at Ben as he sat back down next to Charlie, who patted his shoulder reassuringly. Rowan slunk back down into her seat too, her head bowed in shame. 

“...Yes, ma’am.”

Carewyn looked from Ben to Rowan, her blue eyes rippling with pain. Then, shooting a venomous look at Rakepick, she -- rather than returning to her seat next to Badeea at the front of the class -- switched seats so as to sit down next to Rowan in the second row.

Rowan looked up at Carewyn, startled. The red-haired Prefect didn’t look at her, instead keeping her hard gaze up on Rakepick at the front of the classroom, but she lightly pressed her shoulder up against her friend’s.

That boggart isn’t true, Carewyn prayed Rowan would understand. I won’t leave you -- please don’t believe that...

Rowan, however, couldn’t meet Carewyn’s eye. Instead she shifted away and started to quickly pack her books into her bag.

Carewyn’s heart clenched.

“Rowan -- ”

“Miss Cromwell,” said Rakepick curtly. “A quick word, after class.”

Carewyn looked up from the desk to glare at Rakepick. Then, glancing at Rowan reluctantly, she rose from her seat and approached Rakepick in front of her desk. 

Once the rest of the class had filed out, Rakepick spoke again.

“I’m sure you think I was quite unfair to your friends just now,” she said seriously. “Undoubtedly because you yourself probably feel some trace of responsibility, for the forms their boggarts took in the first place.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed, but she tried not to let the pain show on her face. She did not want Rakepick to have any inkling of just how spot-on her guess was.

“But you will not always be able to protect them from harm, Miss Cromwell,” said Rakepick. “On the contrary -- it is likely you will be forced by circumstance to solely focus on your own survival. Ben Copper’s attack of you this last spring is more than enough proof of that.”

“And yet you still act like Ben was a villain in that whole affair,” Carewyn challenged her. “Even after seeing visible proof that his greatest fear was being controlled by the Imperius Curse, like when he attacked me, you still take pot shots at him.”

“I’m not the only one in your circle who harbors doubts about Mr. Copper’s story,” Rakepick said very quietly. “Just as I’m certain you’re not the only person in my class that harbors doubts about me.”

Justifiably so, Carewyn thought resentfully, and her eyes narrowed.

“However much you may doubt my intentions, Miss Cromwell,” said Rakepick, “I am here to instruct you and your class in how best to defend yourselves. And however much potential you possess, both as a leader and a protector, I do not want you sacrificing yourself for people incapable of doing the same. You deserve allies strong enough to protect you just as much as you protect them -- ”

“I don’t want my friends to sacrifice themselves for me, Rakepick,” Carewyn snapped. “And I will not have you advise me on which people deserve my loyalty -- only I have the right to do that.”

Carewyn turned on her heel and prepared to leave. Rakepick didn’t stop her, but once Carewyn reached the door, the professor made the Prefect pause when she spoke again.

“I know you intend to go to Knockturn Alley. Mr. Kim is an admirable choice of back-up -- but if you intend to get there, you’ll need a fireplace connected to the Floo Network: something not easy to find, inside the castle walls. Meet me outside Dumbledore’s office on Monday, and I can get you inside.”

Carewyn cocked her eyebrow suspiciously. “And get both Jae and me caught on our way back to Dumbledore’s office and be banned from Hogsmeade for the rest of our school careers? No, thank you.”

“I have no interest in you being hindered from finding the Cursed Vaults, Miss Cromwell,” Rakepick said lightly. “Nor do I have any interest in Mr. Kim being prevented from moving as he pleases -- he does Gryffindor house proud, and as I said, his knowledge of Knockturn Alley makes him useful.”

Rakepick’s Niffler, Sickleworth, scampered up her arm to curl up on her shoulder. Rakepick scratched under his neck idly.

“My interest is in you succeeding in your undertaking, Miss Cromwell,” she said levelly. “Your success will bring both of us closer to the Cursed Vaults -- so it’s only right that I ensure that outcome by giving you the means to succeed.”

Carewyn crossed her arms, the suspicion not shifting from her face. Then, after a long moment, she said,

“...Fine. Jae and I will meet you outside Dumbledore’s office on Monday. But we have our own way back into school -- so don’t bother tipping Filch off to when a pair of shady-looking students might be popping up back through Dumbledore’s fireplace.”

Rakepick smiled wryly as Carewyn left the room, closing the door with a sharp snap behind her.

[benscursedkid]

Are you still doing the prompts thingy? May I request Felix x MC + 1...? You’re really good at writing!

of course you can!! i really appareciate it and thank you for requesting!!

trust me

felix x slytherin!mc!reader

words: 7.5k

genre: fluff, angst

warnings: (mention of??) major character death

a/n: as i stated before, when concerning a prefect, someone you only interact with if you are in their house, the mc in the piece will be in the same house as the prefect!! also!! these prompts are specifically designed to break your heart... so hopefully you’re prepared and hopefully i did them justice!!

also: i did take some creative liberties with the rosier family tree. i’m not quite sure where felix fits into it all, but being a rosier canonically makes him closely related to some of the op series characters and i wanted to play around with that. hope you all don’t mind!!

"I promise you, just trust me.”

It’s what he said to you when you’d met him again after graduation. It wasn’t planned, quite honestly, you weren’t even sure you’d ever see him again. He was a school crush, a lone part of your childhood that wasn’t tainted with pain and regret. He was a small flicker, the timid burning of light in the midst of all that’s gone wrong in your life until that point. If you were honest with yourself, you were glad that you ended things— not that there was much to end —like you did, able to keep that memory and acknowledgment of him in tact.

So, it was a slight understatement to say you were surprised to see him again, a little older, barely wiser, and freshly twenty years old.

It was December and the wind had begun to kiss your skin harshly, hitting and nipping at your cheeks in earnest. You huddled deeper into the warmth of your heavy winter coat, cursing yourself for opting out of wearing a hat. It whistled vioently in your ears as you searched for your solace in the form of the cozy bookstore peeking into your vision.

You make a beeline for the doors, your entire body immediately shuddering in relief upon entrance. A gloved hand flies up to your cheek and rubs furiously in the hopes to warm them, even if only a little.

The store clerk welcomed you charitably, a soft smile on his face and you returned it as best you could with a face still half frozen. Then with a pleasant nod, you disappeared into the throngs of bookshelves at the display, raking your finger down the spines as you passed.

Each title and set of initials blurred together as you disregarded them, a specific book in mind. Looking briefly above you at the surprising height of the shelves, you took a moment to admire the expansion charm cast on the shop, thanking Rowan for reccommending this place. Christmas shopping had never really been your forte, but thankfully, your mother had dropped the mention of her need for a new copy of her favorite book, her own having been worn and torn for a good while now.

It was as a certain title caught your eye when you heard your name, the voice confused, barely above a whisper.

On instinct your head shot up, your brows already drawn together. And when your eyes realized what they were seeing, they squinted, as if unsure the vision in front of them was really something produced in reality.

He was wrapped in the most formal overcoat you’ve seen so far this winter, the intricate black velvet traveling all the way down the length of it. Underneath was the softest looking grey jumper you’d ever seen and you had to refrain from reaching out to feel for yourself. His hair, as you always remembered it being, was perfectly slicked back, not a single strand out of place.

He was also older, you noticed, which of course you knew but it was more so something you felt than saw. You felt it in the silence that captured you swiftly after, in the weight of it hanging off both your shoulders. You felt it in the way he stared at you, definitely wiser and with many more experiences and first-hand accounts. His curious brown eyes sincere as they take you in for the first time in years.

“Felix?” You queried, even if there was no mistaking the man in front of you, the hint of a smile teasing your lips, something born of fondness and reminiscence.

His own lips twitched, almost as if the action were something unfamiliar. He nodded.

A small breath, akin to a chuckle escapes and you have the urge to hug him, greet him as old friends would, but you stop yourself. You don’t quite know what you were back in school, or now, but whatever it was, seven years without any contact can surely dull the the faint connection. Even as you look at him now, the memory of what you felt for him is simply that, a thing of the past.

“Wow,” You allow, little shame in the way your eyes take him in in recognition, with a tiny dose of interest. “It’s been a while.”

“Seven,” He mumbles in reply, the hint of rose on his cheeks. “It’s been seven years.”

“That’s right...”

Your words trial off and the two of you are left standing in moderate silence, the air around you heavy with recollection from your teenage years, both of yours. When you dreamed of freedom and a family in tact and he all but survived off coffee and two hours of sleep, worries of the future persistent and prominent.

Idly, you notice the book forgotten in his hands. Les Misérables. You smile.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles you back to reality and your gaze snaps back to his.

“Are you holiday shopping?”

He swallows the strange lump in his throat and his stare bounces, refusing to settle in a single spot. You wonder if you should be concerned by how endearing you find the idle action.

Nodding, you gesture to the books around you, not quite sure what to do with your hands. “Mum needs a new copy of her favorite. I’m just trying to find it.”

This time he smirks, no longer withholding the twist of his lips, the kind that you remember used to always succeed in picking up your heart rate. It still has some effect on you, something you’re not certain you’re comfortable with, but it’s far less drastic than it was when you were thirteen.

“Do you still like that muggle author?” Comes his response, dripping from his lips like honey; slow, sweet and a secret to share between you. “Austen?”

You’re about to laugh, hardly able to believe the fact that he remembered something so trivial, when you realize you never told him. You frown.

His pretty brown orbs ask a silent question and you decide to join them. “How did you know I liked Jane Austen? I don’t think I ever told you, as far as I can remember at least.”

“Oh, well, you feel asleep reading Mansfield Park in the common room at least five times a month,” He laughed, a light, airy sound that rings nicely in your ears like wind chimes. “It wasn’t difficult to figure out.”

A laugh of your own tumbled from your lips, stiff and haphazard, but genuine all the same. “I’m just surprised you know Austen.”

Felix shrugged, his shoulders lolling lazily. “I didn’t at the time, but I thought if you loved it so much then it must have been worth a read.”

An eyebrow quirks. “You like Jane Austen?”

“I like Mansfield Park,” He corrects and you roll your eyes, but your smile still sticks to your skin.

You consider teasing him further, but your common sense stops you. Instead, you opt for something else.

“I’m surprised you remembered.”

“Me, too...”

For a moment, all is still. Felix’s eyes seem transfixed, charmed in a sense. A light mirth dances behind his iris, a look you like to think he doesn’t give out to just everyone. The way they gleam, stars reflected inside from the candles lighting the shelves running a shiver down your spine.

You open your mouth to say something else, you don’t know what, but you’re sure you’ll figure it out, when he adverts his gaze down to his watch. A sound of shock leaves him and his lips tug downward. He curses.

“Is something wrong?”

He glances back to you, a regretful quirk of features protrude. “No, I just— uh, should get going. I’ll be late for work, but it was... nice seeing you again, MC.”

You can’t help the upturn of your lips, no longer attempting to hide it. “You, too...”

He fidgets, his fingers twitching, his eyes skittering over to the door, the thought of arriving late obviously weighing heavily on his mind. Still, he bites his lip— an action you’ve never seen from him before —and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Will I, uh— will I see you again?” He ponders, gaze much more hopeful than it was a few minutes ago.

Without even needing time for thought, your head bobs of its own accord. “I hope so.”

A brilliant grin engulfs his face, his entire expression lighting up at the thought.

Your knees go a little weak.

“Then I’ll see you around...”

And he did.

It had taken him almost an entire month to ask you out on a proper date, one that consisted of a bit more than just stolen glances and poorly disguised smiles, on Christmas Day. It tumbled clumsily from his mouth in a subtle panic, the apples of his cheeks red, and this time not from the bitter cold, but instead the way you broke into a dazzling smile.

It was certainly unexpected, the chain of events that suddenly began when you ran into him that fateful day, but you suppose the best things never are.

It’s what he said to you when the rumors started.

You’d been together for a year now, your anniversary having just passed. You remembered why you fancied him back in school, though truth be told, you never really forgot.

Felix was just so different from anyone else you’d ever met, even back then. He wasn’t a man of grand gestures or romantic schemes, but a collector of smiles and little moments. Things you mention mindlessly in passing, jokes you manage to get out through heaps of laughter, and tiny, little infinitesimal insecurities muttered in the middle of the night; those are the things he stores away, remembers for safe-keeping.

Oh, yeah you suppose the fact that his little half-smile is the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen helps, too.

For the first time in years, you find that you couldn’t care less what the future looks like. So long as Felix is there beside you, whatever it is can’t be that bad. It’s something you didn’t think you could feel, not after Jacob at least.

You thought that trust would forever be an issue with you, something you just wouldn’t be able to get past, which is why it came as a shock to you to realize that all the walls and barriers you’ve built around yourself for years seem to simply bow to him. Just being near him causes them all to shiver, tremble in his wake, their exteriors much more brittle than you recall them to be. It’s incredible, to feel this way; lighter and complete and dizzy with happiness.

And it scares the hell out of you.

Though, you muse, isn’t that what love’s supposed to do?

Looking back, you should have known it wouldn’t last, nothing good ever does. You knew that. You knew that but you dared to hope, dared to ignore the voice in the back of your head, the one that screams from past experience and heartache to just… stay on guard. But you refused. You’ve already played the cynic, wasn’t it your turn to be the dreamer?

“You see the ‘prophet today?” Talbott asked, taking a sip of the coffee in front of him, putting down his half eaten lunch- a measly six inch sandwich he’d thrown together this morning before bolting out the door for work.

Swallowing your own food, you shake your head, the only other employee aside from the two of you taking their leave from the ministry’s break room.

The animagus frowned and pulled out his own copy from his overcoat, the page folded together in nine perfect squares. After successfully unfolding it, he slides it across the small table to you, rightside up for you to read. Your eyes catch on the title, everything else blurring into a jumble of illegible signs and symbols.

“DIGGORY BOY DEAD, “VOLDEMORT RETURNS!” — CLAIMS THE BOY WHO LIVED”

You glare at the print in front of you, as if the ink itself had offended you. The words stare back at you, unyielding.

Talbott reaches out to take the paper back, observing you carefully. Snapping back to reality, you shake your head.

It’s then that you notice the slight, almost unnoticeable shadow cast under his eyes and the anxious sag of his shoulders. He’s jittery, you realize, recalling his unsettled actions from earlier this morning.

You lick your lips hesitantly. “Talbott—”

“Do you think it’s true?” Frowning, your head tilts in confusion. Your friend sighs. “Do you think he’s really back?”

Taking a deep breath, your eyes wander back to the article. Supposedly penned by Rita Skeeter, you’re sure it’s a huge exaggeration to say the least, but she also seems to be on the ministry’s side, which happens to be against Harry Potter’s.

You decide to tell him the only thing you can.

“I don’t know,” You explain, Talbott’s face crumbling with worry. You know it’s not what oh wanted to hear, it’s not what you wanted to say, but it’s the truth. You can’t lie to him. “The ministry hasn’t exactly been the most reliable source these days, we both know that, but Harry’s just a kid, Tal. I mean, how old is he? fourteen?”

“You were fourteen,” He insists, his tone unsteady and uncertain. You’ve rarely seen him this way, you think, afraid and riddled with worry so heavy his cares go out the window.

You don’t like it. This kind of feeling never looks good on anyone.

“You were fourteen,” He repeats, a tired hand taking through his hair, causing the strands to tangle and tumble every which way. “When you entered the third cursed vault, having battled several boggarts, an ice knight, an acromantula, a cloaked figure who tried to kill you... so why is this so hard to believe?”

He’s right. You know he is. And for the second time today you wish you could give him the answer he wants, the answer he needs, and again you can’t. This friendship of yours, as slow as it started, has become one of the most important things in your life and it was built on honesty. So if you couldn’t give him what he wanted to hear, the least you could give him is the truth.

He’s staring at you when you finally relent and his eyes hold the most unlikely mix of dread and foolish hope.

“Because I don’t want to.”

That conversation sticks with you for the rest of the day, your attention stolen by all the possible things that could be happening out there in the current moment.

Is Voldemort sitting with his allies, his most loyal followers, and planning his revenge? Is Harry Potter at school, attending his classes with a pretty mouthful of secrets? Or maybe he’s at a funeral, with a heart full of regrets for a passed friend? And the rest of your friends, have they heard the news yet? Are they as afraid as you are? As guilt-ridden as Talbott?

Then a last thought crosses your mind.

Is Voldemort out rallying his followers?

It makes your blood run cold, the image flowing through your conscious not one you particularly enjoy. Would he come after Felix, the son of a known Death Eater?

It’s these questions that plague you when you return home, tired and stressed and oh so worried. You want to smile when you see Felix’s shoes in the entry, able to deduce that he’d got off early, but you can’t. Not today.

You maneuver your way around the half empty moving boxes, your place an utter mess. It looks like a tornado flew through here but at the moment, you had other things in your mind.

Like your boyfriend, sitting silently by the window, cold, abandoned coffee at his side.

He must have heard you come in, you decide, probably having heard the door open and close. Though, if he’s aware of your presence, he doesn’t show it. He simply stares out the window, small and withdrawn.

Growing restless in the quiet, you speak up first.

“You’re home early,” You announce your observation, putting your things down on the sole couch in this cluttered space. “How was work?”

A beat passes and he says nothing. You don’t make him, knowing that he’ll speak when he’s ready. You’re proven correct moments later when his deep voice responds, hoarse and heavy.

“They gave me the day off,” He replies easily, his eyes refusing to part from the view before him. “Said I could use it to get my thoughts together.”

It’s then you realize he must have been sitting there all day. No boxes have been unpacked, his shoes practically untouched and his coffee left forgotten. You wonder where his thoughts have been.

You stop to ponder your next move, contemplate which approach would get you closer. To him, and how he feels, and what he thinks will come.

However, he doesn’t give you the chance, tossing you a copy of the paper Talbott showed you earlier that you didn’t know he had. Its crumpled and torn, as if he’d been clutching it all day, wishing he’d read every word wrong. You know you do.

“I expect you’ve seen it then,” He declares, his voice low and even, calm despite what you know is probably weighing on him. It would unnerve you if you didn’t share the same habit. “You’d have said something by now if you hadn’t.”

You don’t try to deny it, there’d be no use. Instead, you ask what you’ve been dying to since you walked in.

“Do you think they’ll look for you?”

You blink. Once, twice.

“Yeah,” He still doesn’t face you. “Probably.”

You let out a shaky breath, but stumble over to him nonetheless. You take a seat next to him, slowly so as not to startle him. You skip a glance at his profile, slightly shadowed with the dull grey of the dripping sky which seems to reflect the day’s spirit.

Without a word, you look to the view. “What are we going to do?”

It’s only now that he turns his head, his brown hair a scattered mess and his drooping sad eyes fading no better. Your heart breaks just a little in your chest.

“I don’t know.”

You gulp, but nod along without much choice. There’s nothing one can say to that, not really. So, in lieu of coming up with some hearted variation of “we’re gonna be okay”, your palm finds his cheek, your thumb rubbing soft loving circles into the skin. Felix leans into the touch, his head gentle rolling onto your shoulder.

Together, the two of you sit like that for the remainder of the day, listening to the rain pitter patter against the window like tears, trying not to think of what’s to come.

And the morning after, once the sky has finished crying and the two of you have taken another step closer to accepting the today’s truth, he finally says it. Slow and sweet like honey in your ear, "I promise you, just trust me, MC. We’ll be okay.” You know he’s lying, but you choose to believe he’s not.

It’s easier that way.

It’s what he says when they come for him.

Harry Potter is fifteen now and things have only gotten worse. The ministry has taken over your old school, fired half the staff, and even managed to chase Dumbledore out. You never thought you’d see the day that man steps down, but you suppose nothing is inevitable.

Things at the ministry are much the same. Everyone is on edge, no matter whether they believe Harry’s claims or not, the place is a mess. Those that disagree are fighting regularly and everybody is becoming increasingly more paranoid, even you. Felix has made it his life’s mission to ignore it all, pretend all is as it used to be. He tells you it’s because he refuses to let another war ruin his life just as things started looking up, and quite frankly you agree.

So the two of you don’t talk about it. His family is never mentioned and especially not his parents. You don’t blame him for wanting to get away, if they were your family, you’d do the same. Instead, you go to work and act as if everyone else is just drunk on fire whiskey. You find the time to go out on dates, visit your friends and pretend everything isn’t falling to shit. It’s the only thing you know how to do at this point.

Currently, you’re busy cleaning the last of the mess left by your friends. Angelica had her birthday yesterday but insisted that it be held at your place. Felix wanted to decline, plan it at Chester’s or Penny’s, but you were able to convince him. Your place was the biggest, so it only made sense that you hold it there.

Still, you can see now why he was worried.

There are half eaten cupcakes and gift wrapping everywhere, frosting stuck to your counter and confetti in every nook and corner.

You pout, not looking forward to a morning of cleaning everyone else’s mess. Felix chuckles, amused. “C’mon, I’ll help.”

And with that you get to work. It takes a while, but you enjoy yourselves, a muggle radio playing music for you to listen to as you work, taking short breaks to laugh and mess around.

It’s just past noon when everything is clean, your dishes and rags all put away. Sharing a high five, Felix tells you to change and you can go out for lunch. Excited, you head over to get dressed.

Surpringly, you finish before he does, him needing extra time to fix his beloved hair. This leaves you to wait, twiddling your thumbs and tapping your foot impatiently. You’re about to shout, ask him what’s taking so long when there’s a knock on your door.

Curious and without much else to do, you stride over to the door. Glancing though the peep hole, you see something you never thought you would. Or, maybe you did, you just didn’t want to accept it.

Standing there behind your door is a man and a woman. A man and a woman whom you notice are entirely too familiar. A man with long white hair and stoney grey eyes and a woman with elegant black curls and lips dark and pursed.

“We know you’re home,” The woman drawls, rolling her eyes impatiently. “Just open up, dear.”

Realizing you don’t have a choice, that these are people you just can’t refuse, you steady your breathing. A hand rests on your chest for a beat.

You open the door, gingerly, cautiously.

Swinging the door open, you’re greater with the same sight, not that you expected anything else. The man smiles upon seeing your face, a twisted, charming smile that leaves bile in your mouth. The woman cocks her head, studying you for only a moment before grinning similarly, but with much more mirth and malice.

“Lucius,” You acknowledge with a curt nod, formal and cold. You refuse to to give your thoughts away. “Bellatrix.”

“MC,” Lucius greets customarily, his eyes appraising his surroundings. “Good to see you again.”

Briefly your mind wanders back to when you were introduced, fleetingly exchanging pleasantries at a dinner party for the ministry before being swept away by your respective company. you try your best not to grimace.

“You as well,” The lie drips easily from your mouth as if it were something you’ve always known. You think perhaps you have. “Pardon my blantance,” you lick your lips, never one to beat around the bush, drawing Bellatrix’s attention back to you. “But is there a reason for this particular visit?”

Lucius’ lips quirk, a smirk begging to settle on his face, silently impressed with your boldness. Meanwhile, Bellatrix refrains from scowling, but the way her eyes settle on you in dark disapproval is enough for.

Without wasting any more time for small talk, Lucius clears his throat. “Is Felix home?” He questions, growing tired with formalities himself.

Your heart drops, your blood runs cold, and you swear something in the house breaks. The security, the hopefulness, the dream, the unanswered wishes. Something that you haven’t realized you’ve been clinging to until now.

Squaring your shoulders back, your eyes steeling over and your expression hardening, you take a step back, allowing them entry. Bellatrix strolls ungracefully in, not even bothering to hide the way her face twists with dissatisfaction. Lucius’ brow arches before he, too, makes his way inside.

The woman strides past the shoes placed so obviously by the entryway, walking around to observe the minimal decoration you have set up around your abode. Malfoy, on the other hand, spares it a glance, a brief consideration, then takes a cautionary seat on the couch. With that settled, you excuse yourself to yours and Felix shared room.

You knock sagely on the door, waiting until he opens it with a grin, his hair finalized and his spirits high, completely unaware of the pressing situation accommodating itself in your living room.

Upon noticing your expression, he frowns in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“We have company,” You settle with, sharing with him a distrusting look.

Without further prompt, he takes your hand and leads you into the next room.

Two heads turn in your direction when you return, and you can feel the way Felix stiffens, his hand squeezing yours just that much tighter. You squeeze back, a subtle reminder that you’re still here and luckily it seems to calm him some. At the very least he’s able to nod respectfully to your company in greeting, a charming yet painfully artificial smile tugging at his mouth.

“Hello, Rosier,” Malfoy welcomes him, standing to offer your boyfriend his now outstretched hand. Felix takes it delicately, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “It’s been a while.”

“That it has,” He agrees, nodding more so to himself than anyone else. You stare between them silently, your eyes fleeting over to Bellatrix still in the corner every so often. “And it’s not like I don’t adore your company, Lucius, but MC and I have prior arrangements.”

Malfoy hums in understanding, the baritone of his voice flowing smoothly between the empty space. It sends a shiver up your spine. “My apologies, regretfully we weren’t able to offer a notice of our arrival in advance but we were only given our orders this morning.”

Our orders.

Orders.

This was it, isn’t it? The moment you’ve been trying for so long to deny, what you’ve been ignoring since the start. They’ve come for him, haven’t they? That means the rumors aren’t just rumors anymore. Voldemort’s alive... a war is coming.

Coming.

You breathe in, your mask still held perfectly in place. You will not allow people like them to see through you, it simply isn’t an option. They won’t detect your fear or you be damned.

Felix seems to make the same assumption, an epiphany running haywire behind the dark hues of his chocolate irises. He chuckles.

“Oh really, is that so?” It’s a laugh this time, fuller than his minuscule chuckle, broader, coaxing. Challenging. He walks over to the counter in your kitchen, leaning coyly against the marble. He smirks. You wait. “I didn’t think Lucius Malfoy took orders from anyone.”

It’s a ploy, so arrogant and obvious, you’d have to be deaf to think otherwise. His tone is lilt and measured, calculated and dangerous. The deep rumble settles in his chest and briefly you wonder if he’d give the same tone to Voldemort.

Because that’s exactly what this is. The Malfoy’s haven’t visited Felix since the death of his cousin, Evan, upon Narcissa’s insistence. It’s a shame really, Felix rather liked her, far more than Bellatrix anyway. With Bella gone, Evan dead, Andromeda disowned and Narcissa tackling the challenge of motherhood, it’s been a while since he’d seen any of his cousins, really.

They all knew that. And they all knew why they were here now, it doesn’t take Occulmency to figure out. But he needs to hear him say it. He needs the words to leave his mouth, or he thinks he might go crazy. That way there’s no room doubt.

Lucius senses this, sparing a quick glance over to his companion who has just finished her tour– likely not without pickpocketing something of interest –he opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.

“Aw, really cousin?” She frowns, her tone scratchy and playful, punching. She smiles wickedly, barely any trace of sanity left in the crevices of her lips. A hand flies up to play with her hair. “You graduated top of your class, I thought you’d be smarter than that.”

You watch quietly as Felix shrugs, folding his arms over his chest. “Perhaps,” He concedes calmly as you struggle not to bite your lip. “But I suppose caution and paranoia is a family trait, isn’t it Bella?”

A genuine grin breaks out across her face now, clearly amused, enjoying their banter much more than she had yours. “I prefer to think of it as... insurance.”

“Then you don’t mind me asking, Bella? For insurance?”

She giggles, low but manic, and a little bit out of it. It suits her, you think. “Clever boy.”

Lucius clears his throat, having finally gathered his wits and turns back to your boyfriend. “Excuse my vagueness, Felix, but as I’m sure you’re aware... the Dark Lord isn’t one you can just disobey.”

A silence sinks onto the four of you, nestling itself into your limbs, itching at your skin. It was what you’d been waiting for, but suddenly you wish you could take it back.

“I take it you’ve heard of his return,” Malfoy inquires, walking back to sit on the couch, nodding placatingly in your direction.

“...I thought they were rumors, if I’m being honest.”

“They’re true,” Bellatrix beams, stepping closer to her cousin, her similarly dark eyes wild. “He’s back.”

“We know you may be hesitant,” Malfoy drawls, his fingers drumming lowly on his walking stick, beating against the head of a silver snake. “With what happened to your cousin and all.”

Felix says nothing and somehow it’s you who finds words pushing past your teeth.

“Oh, you mean how he died?” You snark, all three sets of eyes snapping over to yours. Bellatrix takes you in as if she’d forgotten you were present while Felix hides any emotion behind his facade.

Bellatrix looks as if she wants to snap, bite something back at you, but she doesn’t. No, they need Felix to go with them, so she won’t risk angering him. You take a sense of pride in that.

“Yes, a rather unfortunate fate, but I assure you, Miss L/N, that won’t happen again this time.”

“How can you be so certain, Lucius?” Felix quips without missing a beat.

The white haired man back tracks, folding his words into himself in of fear saying too much. He looks on between the two of you with cold, dead eyes.

“I’m afraid I’m not at much liberty to say, Rosier,” He laments, clearly trying to bribe you, intrigue you with the curiosity that comes with a question in need of answering. “But I am certain that, should you accept it, there is a very respectable place for you among us.”

Felix looks to you in an obvious display of concern, not for your well-being, no he’s aware of your strength. They hold a concern, a question of where you stand in this arrangement of theirs.

The tired man catches this and corrects himself. “Both of you.”

It’s now that Bellatrix closes in on him, her pale hand reaching up to latch onto his shoulder. Her head tilts to reach his ear and you watch as her lips move, but the sound does not reach you. She whispers something soft in his ear, intimate and persuasive, as if they’d been close for years.

When she’s finally finished, Lucius raises an expectant eyebrow in Felix’s direction. “So?” The man queries, curiosity lacing his voice like sugar. “What do you say?”

You can practically see the cogs in his head turn as he runs through his options and you’re ashamed to admit it, but for a moment you’re unsure of what his answer will be. His parents will surely disown him for refusing, even if they’re not exactly on the best of terms at present. It’s his family... that’s bound to influence him even a little, right?

Exhaling, Felix blinks and observes them one last time before walking to his door and opening it with vigor.

He gestures to it, holding it open. “I’m afraid we can’t spare much more time as we’re already late. MC and I really must get going.”

No. He told them no. It’s as clear as if he’d said the words themselves. As invariable as the sun coming up in the morning and obvious as the color of the sky, Felix turned them down.

And they know it.

Admittedly stunned, Lucius and Bellatrix slowly make their way towards the exit held wide open for them. Bellatrix snorts in passing, leaving her cousin behind without a second thought, marching out of your home in earnest. But Lucius stops at the doorframe, looking back to Felix in a final chance for reconsideration.

“Are you sure?” He presses, eyes sliding past you, focused on who they really came here for.

Felix nods. “Quite.”

With nothing left to say, Lucius Malfoy disappears from sight, taking Felix’s last connection to his family with him. The door clicks minutely shut and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

The silence that takes place in your house feels too big, like it stretches far beyond just these walls. You almost expect him to say something, the drown it out, but instead he takes big steps towards you and grabs your hand.

Before you know it, you’re outside. The sun is beating down on you feverishly, as if it were praising you, it’s favorite person in the world. Pale grass brushes up against your knees and the sky looks bluer than you last recall. But what really catches your attention is a house, towering above you unevenly, random windows doecorating the front that look strangely endearing and yet oh so out of place.

Your mind spins, nothing connecting, no thoughts formulating nor your surroundings making sense. You frown in utter confusion and look to Felix for help, but when your eyes meet his, what stares back at you a reflection, someone who is just as scared as you.

If anything it makes you more afraid.

Nonsensical sounds leave your mouth in broken fragments and sentences, words failing you completely. Felix shushes you softly, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks.

“Shh, it’s okay. Hey, don’t worry, everything is fine,” He coerces you into deep breaths, his fingers tracing random patterns on the apple of your cheeks. Your heartbeat calms but you still feel as if you’re at the bottom of a swimming pool.

“Where are we? What are we doing here?”

“It’s the Weasley estate,” Felix replies, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “We need their help now, MC.”

“Felix, what just happened? Did they–”

“Yes, they did,” It’s not what you wanted, but it’s all he has and a cold sweat sticks to your skin. “So we can’t go back there. They won’t be happy about my decision, MC, so we need somewhere else to go.”

“What about Chester? Or Tonks or Orion or–”

“We can’t put them in danger,” He rebuffs, shaking his head sorrowfully. He looks just as broken as you do, just as lost, and that terrifies you. “We need to lie low, okay? You can do that for me, right?”

You stutter, still processing the events of your day. Had you known this would happen when you woke up this morning, you would have stayed in bed. It all escalated so quickly, you’re not even sure it’s donned on you yet what exactly it is you’ve just done. The world spins around you.

“I promise you, just trust me.”

You look up at the sound of his voice and your eyes meet his. He’s scared, and lost, and worried and suddenly you realize that he doesn’t have all the answers.

But it’s okay.

You’re in this together now, and if you had to go to war with anyone by your side, you thank your lucky star that it happens to be him.

“I do.”

You wiggled the keys in the door, cursing under your breath until it finally opened. Releasing a sigh, you hauled the thing open, tossing the keys onto the nearby end table and removing your shoes, allowing it to click shut behind you.

You cast a dreadful look around the place.

It’s the same, you’re aware. Physically nothing has changed since you were here last; nothing moved or altered in any way. The hand-picked drapes are still hanging from the window, your shoes still sit by the door, your pictures decorate the walls just as they always have. It’s almost eerie how similar it looks, yet for the life of you you can’t recognize it.

It’s not your home anymore.

Not able to stand the silence much longer, you let your feet drag against the wooden floor as you make your way to your room. You’re not ready, not yet. You know that, but you also know that you can’t avoid it forever.

He wouldn’t want you to.

Your hand wraps carefully around the handle and you press your forehead against it, only for a moment, before you pull away and bite the bullet. A shaky inhale and another minute later, you finally push it open.

The first thing you notice is the quietness surrounding the room, like an aura. You could feel in your bones how empty it was, as if the air around you was weeping, crying out in isolation. You find you can’t relate, not these days when socializing of any kind seems to be more of a chore than a normalcy. Still, you sympathize with whatever the feeling is, knowing the pain first hand.

It’s weird, you think, how completely untouched by the pain and destruction of war and the time it took to finally end it. You’re almost angry, at how this was able to stay the same when everything else in your life was bent out of shape, played out of tune.

Your legs move mindlessly, eager to explore, to what what else slipped past the war’s watchful eye. They take you to your closet, the huge thing left to collect dust in your absence.

You and Felix had to leave pretty much everything behind when you joined the Order. It was too risky to come return to the house when Voldemort’s followers were watching you. Luckily, the Order was able to help provide you with things like clothes until you’d gotten settled in— Tonks in particular was very generous, but you were unfortunately unable to come back to retrieve the ones you left behind.

Reaching out, your grip latches onto a certain sweater all the way far in the back, buried underneath old t-shirts, worn button-ups, and mismatched gloves. You pull it out.

The stitching is a little loose around the hem and splitting by the neckline. The grey has faded and the thin green streaks around the cuffs are almost indistinguishable. You don’t think you’d be able to identify it were it not for the small pin resting by the right of the chest.

Under any other circumstances you’d probably smile, reminiscing on your school days and perhaps even tease him. Ask why he still has it and why he hasn’t kept up with it, why it’s just sitting in the darkest corner of the closet. Today though, all you can do is pull it into your chest, hugging it just long enough to collect yourself before you gingerly tuck it back into its place. You shut the closet and collapse into the bed.

It feels bigger without him in it.

You’re about ready to waste away the rest of the day exactly like this, your heart heavy and soul tired, but you attempt one last glance around first. You don’t know what you’re looking for, maybe something to convince you that this isn’t your life now, that the last few weeks never happened, but you find it.

There’s a hand wrapped package sitting on his desk, pushed into the corner so far you nearly missed it. It’s tied together with plain string, but you notice the familiar scrawl painted across it.

Jumping up from your spot on the bed, you bound over to it, tearing it open without a second thought.

Your vision is immediately flooded with words upon words etched into prestine white parchment in thick black ink. It’s in Felix’s handwriting, of course like you expected, but for a minute you debate not reading it. You’re not sure you can bare whatever thoughts he decided to write into tangible reality, regardless of the contents, but you quickly shut that down. You’re too curious for your own good, something he always loved to remind you.

So, trying to steady your hands long enough for you to read the script, you sit down to do just that.

05/01/98’

MC,

I’ve gone through probably a hundred pieces of parchment and yet I still can’t find a decent way to start this. You’d think with the war I’d have my wits about me, but I suppose everyone has to play the fool at some point, right?

To tell you the truth, I don’t even think I know what I’m trying to say here. There’s so many things going on both in my head and around us as I’m writing this, I was barely able to get this moment to myself. But I had to get away. I had to write this. With this war finally coming to a head, I fear what lies in tomorrow’s horizon. Fate, as I’ve come to realize, is so arbitrary. Perhaps there is nothing to it but odds and dumb luck. Either way, we can’t know what happens next, and as morbid as the thought is, there are some things I have to say before the day breaks. I don’t have a lot of time, so I will try to make it brief.

I love you. I know it’s nothing new, but I just thought you should hear it one last time.

Also, I suppose I wanted to say sorry. If you’re reading this then that means that my luck has run out. So I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can’t be there when you need me the most. I’m sorry that it had to be me who broke us and I’m sorry that you have to do this on your own. I’m sorry I left you.

Lastly, I wanted to marry you.

I know that’s it likely unfair of me to say this, seeing as it is now a dream that could never become reality, but it’s true. I think I’ve known this for a while now, but it’s just always been a thought, an idea, something to look forward to. And even if our time together was much shorter than I’d hoped, just know that it was worth it. I’ve left this earth a happy man, MC, for nothing on this earth, be it magical or otherwise, could ever compare to loving you. Not in a thousand lifetimes. Though a future together is something that we can’t have, I hope you’ll still persevere, like I know you can, to love the life you can still have. This world is on its knees, and it’s begging for someone like you to take advantage of it and all it has to offer.

So promise me you’ll try. For me.

Until Tomorrow,

Felix

You read it several times before it become illegible, the tears in your eyes splashing onto the paper and blurring your vision. You shake your head, unable to do anything else, and the parchment slips from between your fingers, floating softly to the ground.

You try to flick the tears away, but they just keep coming, unbidden. They continue to do so even after your eye catches on something hidden in the wrapping of the package and you pick it up with a trembling hand.

It’s a wedding ring, the kind you always imagined you’d have as a child; beautiful and sparkling and made just for you. This is made even more apparent when you see the inscription on the inside of the band, obviously something Felix had required.

“I promise you, just trust me.”

Without anything left to do, you slip it onto your finger and allow yourself to sob well into the night. You sob not only for the man you lost, but for the future that died with him.

[otherworldly-realms]

MC: (barges into the Slytherin common room)

Merula: Where have you been all day?

MC: None of your fucking business, Merula.

Felix: You are bleeding.

MC: It’s just a flesh wound.

Merula: What did you do?

MC: NONE OF YOUR FUCki-

Felix: What did you do?

MC: Someone was getting cheeky with the chimera.

Felix: And?

MC (shrugging): What does it look like? I protected the poor thing from some Gryffindor kid.

Felix (rubs his temples): I see-

MC: BUT, I got 50 house points.

Felix:

Merula:

MC:

Felix: Come here, I’ll patch you up.

[yourlocalgod]

I love how Hogwarts is always in chaos while other wizardry schools are just chilling

[eleanorsayreplays]

[electricslytherindog]

Talbott: MC, how many brothers you have?

MC: Nine.

Talbott: I mean older brother, who could possibly be like your dad and can ask me about our relationship.

MC: four. Why are you asking?

Talbott: At least two of them scare me to death. I want to know what to expect from others.

[arishle]

Yours Secret

プリフェクト(監督生)の一息

A little bit too fast for Valentine’s Day?

I got a lot doodles to complete...so I’ll just leave it like this way.

Leave ur message if you want to see a better version🤔.So I’ll at least put it into waiting list.

I am not good at using water color pencil...but this doodle make my days 😏💕✨.

[lunalovefics]

hazy shade of winter PART 1

pairing - felix rosier x mc

requested ? yep ! unfortunately i didn't get a username so i couldn’t tag them, but if this was yours please leave a comment because I loved writing this !

summary : you stay behind at hogwarts over christmas holiday and become much closer with a certain prefect while all of your friends are away...

warnings : slow burn ?

(also i haven't written anything in a hot minute so if this sucks i apologize and very much appreciate any constructive criticism as im trying to improve my writing. but im very excited this is the first fic im posting to my new account!)

It was a another freezing winter morning as I woke up unusually early, bringing the covers up over my head tossing and turning trying to fall back asleep to escape the cold for just a few more hours. I groaned throwing the heavy blanket away from my face taking in a deep breath, brushing the stray pieces of (h/c) hair from my eyes. It was no use. I was completely and fully awake, totally aware of how quite the room was without all my friends going about their usual morning routine. The only sound keeping me company today was the wind rustling harshly against my window as I stare at the ceiling now desperately wishing I had taken Rowan or even Bill’s invitation to spend the break with them. It was only the first day of holiday and I already missed them. ‘‘ it’s only two weeks.”  I tried to reassure myself.

I look over to the window the sun still not even up, “if the sun gets to sleep in i should be able to.” I frown to myself as I realize i’m going to have to get up at some point. I bite the bullet and decide to try and make to most of the day, that thought lasted all of five minutes as after I brushed my hair and teeth I couldn't be bothered to exert any more energy. Assuming I’m either the only one in slytherin who stayed behind on holiday or at the very least the only one awake at this hour I decided there would be no better way to spend these next few hours then curled up in the common room next to the fireplace getting ahead of my studies. I quickly pulled on an over sized (f/c) sweater not even bothering to change out of my pajama pants and grabbed a few textbooks as I made my way down to the common room to find it actually decorated quite nicely, a christmas tree dawned our house colors, stockings over the fireplace, and a few other decorations here and there. I smiled taking in the scene as I sat back into the couch getting as comfortable as possible before opening my potions book. 

I’d say I got in a good forty-five minutes of studying before I ultimately fell asleep. Potions always seemed to do that to me, hence why Penny had to tutor me so often. I was sure I had been out for a at least an hour or two as I finally woke up yawning as a rubbed my surprisingly still tired eyes. Looking down I noticed my book set neatly on the table in front of me and a blanket covering my now very warm body. It was only then that I looked over and noticed that I was in fact not alone here. Not even two feet away from me sat a familiar form.

 “I see you are finally awake.” he didn’t sound as cold as he normally did, in fact he almost sounded pleased? 

“Felix? What time is it?” was the only thing that managed to escape my lips as I was a bit shocked to see him.

“A bit after eight I suppose.” he replied marking a place in his book before sitting it on the table, turning to give me his full attention. “You know I don’t consider it wise to spend the night in the common room, I imagine it’s not very comfortable and it can get quite cold.” he added glancing down for only a moment.

That’s when I realized what exactly he was looking at. I was now all to aware of the fact that he was the one who had covered me with this blanket and neatly arranged my books. But why would he do that? Was he sitting there waiting for my to wake up? Was I overthinking this situation? Probably. I mean he was just looking out for his housemate, that’s what a prefect does after all. I tried not to make the situation any more than it was but I was unable to suppress the blush creeping up my cheeks. I sat up, now sitting criss cross only a few inches separating us.

 “I wasn't down here all night.” I corrected him. “I woke up pretty early and couldn't go back to sleep so I thought it would be a good idea to come down here and try and get ahead of my lessons, but you can see how well that worked out.” 

“I can’t say I’m surprised considering how many house points you've lost us by falling asleep in Snapes class.” shockingly he didn't sound as if he were scolding me like he normally did when it came to house points. 

“It’s not my fault his voice is so unbearably boring that I have no other choice than to go to sleep.” I joked trying to lighten the mood. I swore I could see the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. “What are you doing here anyway? Wouldn’t you rather spend the holidays at home instead of being cooped up here?”

“You know I could ask you the same question (l/n).” he replied raising a brow. I suppose he was right. Who am I kidding, he was always right.

l smiled at his response just sitting there for a moment taking in his features. It was nice seeing him outside of his house robes and uniform. He was wearing a simple grey turtle neck, black pants, and his normal black dress shoes. Good to know he still remained quite formal even when no one was a round to see. His hair was still slicked back and his cheek bones were just as sharp but something seemed different. His expression seemed less tired, almost relaxed. But I suppose that made since, even though we were stuck at Hogwarts we were still on holiday.  

He cleared his throat, though our eyes never broke apart. Oh Merlin. I thought to myself, just how long have I been just staring at him. I averted my eyes as fast as humanly possible, practically jumping out of my seat. Smooth (y/n) smooth. 

“Want to go to the Great Hall? I could really use some coffee.” I smiled mentally face palming myself as hard as possible.  

He shrugged getting up from his seat, “Sure.”

And just like that the two of us started to make our way to the Great Hall.

(Felix’s pov)

It was only six am when I awoke to the cold nipping at me from under the covers, I looked around to my empty room and sighed as I would be spending yet another Christmas alone at Hogwarts. 

“at least i can get some peace and quite.” 

I soon got up to get dressed and made my way to the common room ready to get started with the day. Of course I didn't expect to see anyone else here at all let alone at this time, you could definitely say I was more than taken aback to find someone asleep on the couch. I felt my heart rate speed up even more when I realized that it was you. Questions immediately began to pop into my mind. Why hadn't you gone home on break? Why were you asleep in the common room? Had you been there all night? What were you dreaming about? I had caught myself off guard with that last one.

I looked around the common room at all the decorations I managed to get up that night before making my was over to you. Gently brushing a piece of hair away from your face tucking it behind your ear I smiled at how serene you looked. As I pulled the book you were reading from your hand my fingers grazed yours, you were freezing. After placing the book neatly on the table I went to my room to get you a blanket. 

If you were going to sleep in the common room you should have at least brought a blanket with you. It’ll be a wonder if you manage to not get sick. I mean really you need to start being more responsible. 

As I walked back in I couldn't help but just stare at you for a moment as I covered you up, I had never been more glad you were asleep as I was sure that you would have been able to hear every beat of my heart. I debated on whether or not I should sit in a different seat worried you would find my decision to sit next to you odd at the very least but I couldn’t resist. I sat down as slowly and as quietly as possible doing my best not to wake you, managing to sit back and start my book without causing so much as a stir.

I tried to read my book and ignore the fact that you were asleep next to me but it was almost as if the more I tried to concentrate the harder it became. I read the same sentence over at least ten time before finally giving in to watch over you as you slept, my eyes shifting back and forth from you, to the fire burning, and finally back to the book as I realized what a creep I was probably being and decided to try and give reading another attempt. But I still couldn't help but smile at every little snore. (if you don’t snore, well you do now uwu)

This went on for just a little over an hour before I felt you moving around, looking over as you woke up. When your tried gaze met mine I could feel my face soften, there really was no one like you. 

(y/n)’s pov

It didn't take long to make it to the Great Hall as we walked there in almost total silence, not that I minded it was honestly nice just to have the company. Truth was I was grateful not only was I going to have someone to spend the holiday with but I was going to be able to spend it with Felix. I know we weren't close or anything, and given all the times I lost our house points he probably didn't like me very much but i’d be lying to say I didn't enjoy every moment I could steal from him. 

As we walked through the doors I looked around taking in the sight of all the decorations, even with how empty it was the room felt so full of joy. Felix of course kept the same stoic expression as he always did but I like to think he enjoyed the scenery as well. 

We took our seats at the end of the table sitting across from each other as we had our breakfast. 

“So (y/n) what are you doing here on holiday if you don’t mind me asking?” he questioned finally breaking the silence.

“And what if I do?” I replied teasing him a bit.

 He raised a bored brow, but I could tell he was a bit taken back by my response. 

“You’re not here to cause trouble I hope.” He was already on to me, I had to think quick.

“Who? Me?” I asked looking around. “Felix please I am the back bone of this house, I would never.” I smirked even though it was a very obvious lie. He rolled his eyes at the “back bone of slytherin” however he was amused to say the least.

“Well that certainly is a shame.” he started before taking a sip of his tea. “Because if your offer still stands, I say we make this break interesting for once.” 

I didn't know what to say, was this all a trap to get me to reveal my plans? He was prefect after all, was he really willing to get in trouble? But all my mind could really focus on was the fact he even remembered my offer. 

“Well (y/n), what will it be?” 

What came over me I don’t know, maybe it was the look in his eyes. A mischievous glint I had never seen in him before, maybe my curiosity got the better of me. Or maybe it was that skip of my heart that made the decision for me. 

“Alright Rosier, let’s do it.” I grinned going against all better judgement I agreed extending my hand to seal the deal. 

As he grabbed my hand he pulled me closer to him, leaning across the table, “I must warn you if we’re going to do something this reckless we do it my way. I won’t have us getting caught.” I could only nodded in agreement as words were not even an option in this moment, he finally realized the position we were in and let me go. Though a small part of my wished he hadn’t.

He went back to his tea focusing rather hard on it trying to hide the ever so slight blush forming. I couldn't quite wrap my head around what had just happened but I had a feeling I wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about it any time soon. 

It wasn't long before we were both finished and ready to head out deciding to head to the library to read up on some information that could help us in our adventure. As we were walking I forced him to take a slight detour stopping by the courtyard to look out at the frosty morning. I let out a happy sigh watching as my breath came out in a cloud. The air was bitter and I definitely wasn't dressed for such cold weather but I had never been so happy to shiver. Seeing the ground covered in a beautiful sheet of white as even more spilled from the sky almost made me forget about everything else going on around me. I walked out looking up at sky trying to catch a snow flake on my tongue. 

“(y/n) get back here ! It’s freezing, you're going to get sick !” I heard Felix call after me but it was like it really just went in one ear and out the other. Little did I know how intently he was watching me, I didn't even think of how silly I probably looked but in that moment I couldn't care less. Twirling around in the snow I become almost lost in my own little world and didn't even notice when Felix had come up behind me.

I jumped as I was snapped back to reality feeling something rather warm wrap around me. Looking down I saw a scarf now resting on my shoulders. I quickly turned around staring up at Felix who was now standing right in front of me, snow now starting to cover us both. My (e/c) eyes met his brown ones and the heat immediately began to rise to my already rosy cheeks. I tried taking the scarf off but he placed his hands on mine to stop me, re wrapping it before his hand moved to my cheek. His hands felt so warm even out in the freezing cold.

“You’ll get cold.” I said averting my gaze trying to protest. 

“I’m not the one shivering.” he smiled as I felt his hand move from my cheek to brush a fallen strand of (h/c) hair behind my ear. Little did I know this wasn't the first time he had done this.

I had no idea how to respond, it seemed like he never failed to make me speechless, but this? This was a side of him that I didn't even know existed. How did the point obsessed prefect become so.....sweet? As I looked up at him I smiled gently cupping his hands in mine, raising them to my lips blowing out a bit of warm air. 

“I will shiver in this cold happily if it means I get to stand here next to you.” staring up at him I was glad to know I was no longer the only one blushing. 

“Lets head inside before we catch our death out here.” he said before placing a gentle kiss on my forehead, I could feel a smile form onto his lips as I intertwined his hand with mine. 

These were going to be an interesting two weeks.

[skyline-timeturner]

(60/365) The Slytherin's Prefects Reunion

So.. suddenly I want to draw Felix when he met Kaoru again (at the reunion during the Prefect side quest) after 1.5 years separation. I imagined him didn't really recognize the 5th year Kaoru because she changed her hairstyle and she is almost at the same height with him now..

I actually want to make a dramatic story with them...but somehow the universe is still preventing it. Thus, enjoy this comedic scene of them! Hahahaha

More about Kaoru Sastrolinea : @skyline-timeturner

[aceslytherin]

MC: I’ve been dropping my crush insanely obvious hints that I like him for about 3 years now

Felix: Wow, he sounds stupid

MC: But he's not, he’s really smart actually ...

Felix: Maybe you just need to make it more obvious? Like, I don’t know, “Hey, I love you!”

MC: I guess you’re right

MC: Hey, I love you!

Felix: See? Just say that

MC: ...

Felix: If that flies over his head, then I’m sorry, he must be too dumb for you

[domaslut]

What can I say? She was getting tired of waiting for him to make a move… And you can tell she is a good student: he gave her instructions, she pursued them.

TAKE A HINT FELIX. SHE’S DROOLING AFTER YOU.

[infelixrosierwetrust]

felix i- do we even have a relationship?

[benscursedkid]

could i perhaps request 9 + felix... maybe?¿

of course!! thank you for requesting!! enjoy!

felix x slytherin!mc!reader

words: 1.8k ~ oops… 

genre: angst

warnings: no actual sexual content, but it is heavily implied!!

a/n: this takes place after mc’s graduation!! and my own mc is a ravenclaw so i’ve never experienced felix as my prefect myself– just a heads-up. i’ve also never written for felix before so i hope you enjoy!!

*i tried to make this gender neutral seeing as idk what you guys want nor like so if you don’t specify in the request, the mc will likely be gender neutral. i am willing to write for both genders, no matter the pairing, though!!*

“You need to find happiness without me.”

Its only a whisper, something mumbled under your breath as you slip your shirt back on, but it was enough.

Felix sighs from his place, spread out across his king sized bed, something that he’s realized is way too big for one lone person. It was this realization, along with many others, that led him to inviting you in it all those months ago. Like a fool, you accepted.

Even now, as he gets up wordlessly to hand you your jacket, you haven’t changed. You were a fool back in school for many reasons –reasons you’ve tried hard to forget– you were a fool when you agreed to whatever arrangement this is, and you’re still a fool now for not being able to quit it.

Though, really, it’s him that you can’t quit… How pathetic.

You decide to push forth with this topic of conversation. You know he heard you before and it’s long overdue anyhow. “You do know that, don’t you, Felix?”

The man in question hums, his brows crinkling. “Know what?” He asks, even if you both know it’s a weak effort.

A huff escapes you as you tie up your laces, looking up at him as he stands before you. “Don’t play that with me, Felix. We both know you’re not that thick.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Comes his immediate reply and you inwardly curse wherever this stubbornness is coming from. “Look, MC, can’t we just leave this alone? I mean, this arrangement works so why change it now?”

“It works for you,” You growl, abandoning the other foot in favor of meeting his gaze. He looks properly disheveled; his usually slicked back hair is a mess of rogue strands, his pale skin shines with drying sweat, and his lips are swollen and red.

If you had told yourself a few months ago that this is a sight you’d soon become used to seeing, you would have laughed. You would have thought that there was no way in the world that the guy you had a crush on when you were young would ever reciprocate your feelings, especially after all this time. You were right of course, but for once you wish you weren’t.

“MC–”

“No, Felix, I’m sorry, but it had to be said! I know you know how I feel about you, you’d have to be outrageously dull not to,” The brunette’s mouth has snapped shut, not having expected this from you. Not when you were normally so quiet after your ‘visits’.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you take a moment to collect yourself before diving back in.

“…Felix, I know what this is, I’m not that little kid that you knew before,” Your companion visibly stiffens at the accusation, but true to self he stays calm, not giving away more than that. “If you wanted someone to replace that hole they left in you, then you should have just asked.”

He blinks; once, twice. “You know about that?”

“Everyone knows about that,” You say, your tone softening ever so slightly at the reminder.

Unfortunately, word of Felix’s failed relationship had long since gotten around by the time you’d ran into him again. At first it made you sad, thinking about what he must have been going through. Four years of your time dedicated to someone only to have them leave you like it was nothing. It’s a feeling you’re familiar with. Granted it was your brother who left you, but you’re sure it hurts all the same.

You had almost made up your mind to stay out of it until you found yourself stumbling into his place at an ungodly hour of the night, only to disappear out the back door before morning. It was then that you had started to wonder if maybe he had gotten over it quicker than anyone anticipated. Though, a part of you always knew he hadn’t. You just suppose that sometimes, if you’re desperate enough, you can convince yourself that all the pieces are in place, that things are better than they are.

Currently, Felix curses to himself, a rare sight. A hand flies to massage his temples, before he spins back around to face you.

His mouth opens and closes mutely, sadly. Not a sound comes out as he searches for the right words. You watch, silently, as all fail him.

“MC…” Felix ventures, licking his lips that have since gone dry. His tone is soft, cautious as if he were speaking to a child. “I-I didn’t mean to… to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

You offer a small nod, but you refuse to meet his eyes lest you fall back into them.

“I’m sorry,” Slips past his lips next and at that you manage to finally drag your stare back up to his. “For being selfish with you.”

For a moment you say nothing and neither does he. The only sound comes from the life outside and you swear the moon hates you, if the way the moonlight illuminates his face just right is of any indication. The silence between you is thick with tension and heavy with a kind of truth that only comes from heartache.

You hate it.

“MC–”

“What am I to you?”

He reels, taken aback by your sudden question. You know you probably shouldn’t have taken this there, that you likely won’t like any answer he gives you– because it’s not the one you want –but you couldn’t help yourself. The thought has plagued you for much longer than you care to admit and now seems as good a time as any.

“I mean, I know you don’t feel the same, I get that, but…” You trail off, no words seem to properly explain your train of thought.

A beat. “What do you want me to say?”

The words hit home, knocking the breath straight from your lungs. You hadn’t expected him to ask. Make up an excuse, attempt to placate or convince you, yes, but ask? Not even close.

Suddenly your chest burns with an unpleasant feeling, one that you think has crept up on you these past few months, but now it shows no mercy. It tears at your flesh and pollutes your veins, getting stuck inside your lungs. It’s suffocating you, but you can’t find it in yourself to let it go.

“I’m just a distraction, aren’t I?” You don’t know where the anger comes from, or rather you don’t want to dwell on where it comes from, but it seeps into your voice. It twists your words into those of someone bitter, someone bruised from a love that strangled them dead.

Your old prefect goes to object, but upon realizing he can’t honestly deny the claims, thinks better of it. He shrinks into himself, a sight you thought you’d never see. You suppose shame can do that to a person.

“I’m just a body to keep the other side of the bed warm, aren’t I? Just someone to keep around so that you don’t feel so lonely?” All your pent up anger and resentment bubbles up to the surface and for once you let it, needing the relief that comes with getting it off your chest and out in the open.

You laugh at yourself, ironically, a bit manically maybe. Felix flinches at the sound, knowing that he’s the cause of such a display starting to slowly eat at him.

“Wow…” Your eyes are cold, mirthless as you seem to gape in astonishment at all your bad decisions. No longer are you suffering in silence, having chosen to do it out in the open for him to see. “I’m here simply to make you feel better, huh? To try and fix what they broke? Well, let me tell you, Felix, that’s some bullshit. You and I both know that I’ll never be what you want because I’ll never be them.”

“I’m so sor–”

“Don’t you dare apologize, Rosier,” You spit, the faux smile on your face saying something entirely different from your tone. Felix grimaces at your use of his last name, a habit you seemed to have gotten past after the first week of meeting again. “I mean, I can’t really blame you, can I? You used me to help yourself and I let you.”

“It was very Slytherin of you, I must say. I mean, why try and put yourself back together when you can break someone else? Not when it’s so much easier to break someone else’s heart than it is to focus on your own that’s already broken.”

You look completely mad now, you’re sure. Your words are no longer directed at him, but yourself. You shake your head as Felix watches, knowing better than to interrupt.

“Tell me, Felix,” You muse, finally turning back to him, your head tilted in curiosity. “Did it make you feel better?”

His brown orbs take you in, tattered and torn, and with an over abundance of shame, he nods his head. “For a while,” He whispers against your cheek, his breath fanning across your eyelashes.

You hum in acknowledgment, a thought coming to mind that pushes past your teeth. “I’m not mad at you, ya know?”

He perks at this, the space between his brows wrinkled in confusion. “Wha–you’re not?”

“No,” You declare with a shrug of your shoulders. “You’re not the only selfish one, Rosier. I knew how this would go and I did it anyway because having even a little of you, even if it’s all the wrong pieces and in all the wrong ways, is so much better than nothing at all.”

His eyes widen in surprise, seemingly unable to process what you’ve just said, as if the mere thought was completely absurd. You see then something you’ve tried to deny for a long time.

He’s just as damaged as you, and that’s why you can’t stay.

Having calmed down some, you straighten your jacket on your shoulders and clear your throat. “Look, Felix, I don’t think I should come over anymore.”

Felix glances at you briefly, guiltily, and concedes with a nod. One of his hands fall onto your shoulder and he sighs heavily. “Yeah.. yeah, I think that’s for the best.”

With nothing left to say he considers walking you to the door, but decides against it. That’s probably the last thing you want right now.

Instead, he picks his own shirt up off the floor and slips it over his head as you open the door to leave. You risk a glance back at his defeated form and against your better judgment, you call out to him one last time.

“You need to find happiness without me, Felix.”

“I know.”

“And I hope you do.”

“…You, too.”

[otherworldly-realms]

when you and your prefect sneak out in the middle of the night and get up to something naughty

MC: Felix please, just this one time.

Felix: Absolutely not. We've done this far too may times already. Snape isn't an idiot.

MC: C'mon Felix, how can you say no to me? Besides, I know you're having fun.

Felix:

MC: I'll work even harder for House Points, I swear.

Felix:

MC: You do realise I carry our house on my fucking back, right?

Felix:

Felix: Fine. But it's your turn to sabotage the potions and I'll sneak in the Puffskeins.

MC, smirking: You're such a bad prefect, Felix...

Felix: You're a bad influence.

[yourlocalgod]

He actually noticed