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hazyange1s · 9 months ago

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the process of detonation (g.w. x f!mc)

summary: Garreth has a bit of a crisis when the reality of growing up starts to hit hard. While trying to overcome self-doubt and bottle up the explosion waiting to happen, she’s there to show him that there’s nothing wrong with a little chaos.

tags: allusions to adhd, alcohol use, seventh year, awkwardness and fluff, literal fireworks, too many food metaphors?, friends to lovers, gryffindor!reader, garreth is an ace at pining, beater!Garreth because yes obviously, the “wearing his sweater” trope, seniors and their existential crises, mc only referred to by she/her pronouns

word count: 5.6 k

rating: T

a/n: my entry for @garrethweasleyfest ! the prompt I used was “explosion” (kind of got inspired by explode - mother mother)

read on ao3

Garreth wasn’t all that good at really explaining the inner workings of his mind, but perhaps he could give it a go.

He might be biased, but in a way; he thought people could be compared to potions. They’re messy, complex, and each have their own set of ingredients that make them what they are — and change how they react. Some people have a little extra rose petals to them, some a sprinkle of stardust, and others are just…pure poison.

In Garreth’s case, his brewing tended to say a lot about his own concoction of self.

Of course, for most of his life, he never really considered that there might be something fundamentally wrong with whatever recipe God or whoever had used to create him. It wasn’t until seventh year when he was finally considered a grown wizard that Garreth began to suspect… and to wonder if there was any leaf or powder out there that could be thrown in to stabilize him.

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In Garreth’s defense, he had a lot on his mind that day.

Between his growing stack of homework assignments, early morning Quidditch practices three days a week, and the NEWT study group he’d been strong-armed into joining by Natsai and his Aunt, it was a wonder he had any working brain cells left at all. And that didn’t even count the time he spent on his own, er… creative projects.

So it wasn’t all that surprising that he’d accidentally broken a golden rule of potion-making in his sleepy endeavor at a cure for ague. Not once as his knife rocked against the cutting board did he consider that everybody else was flattening the blades and pressing down instead, and the rest of his friends were too oblivious to, either.

“— But then, he tried to kiss me! No request, no warning, nothing! One second I’m mid-conversation about centaurs’ rights, and the next his tongue is two inches from my face! All of that time wasted when I could have been doing any of the million other; more important things I have going on!”

Oddly enough, hearing about his friend’s failed attempts at courting (which were rather numerous) was the best part of his day so far.

Garreth nodded along politely, offering a vague “mhmm” and “you can’t be serious” at appropriate intervals, gaze flickering between his workstation and the witch in the midst of a passionate rant while turning her ladle idly in her own cauldron. He’d never been good at strictly keeping his eyes on his own work, and it was that much harder with her directly beside him; her vest unbuttoned and cheeks fairy floss pink from the vapors surrounding them.

She gave a resounding huff, dropping the ladle to rest her elbows on the textbook open in front of her. “All that is to say; I’ve come to the conclusion that men are incorrigible.”

“Sounds fairly accurate,” Garreth snorted. He gently nudged her off of the book (they often shared his, as it was filled with helpful notes) to double check a measurement.

Even if some little voice whispered that reasonable was boring and she should keep her — ahem — mind open to other possibilities, he dutifully ignored it.

“Although, we’re not all pigs, you know. Some of us have a spot of…well. Class, I suppose.” He grumbled.

“I hope you’re not referring to yourself,” her laughter rang out like the peal of a bell. “You’re a lot of things, Garreth, but you’re not exactly the epitome of a gentleman.”

His face pinched, and again she chuckled, which was a small consolation.

It stung because it was true. Garreth wasn’t exactly a rake by most standards, but he flirted with too many witches and wizards and had snogged half that number besides to be much else. He was a terrible dancer, didn’t have a fortune to inherit (even if he had been the eldest Weasley), and flaunted most rules and regulations.

So, no, he wasn’t winning any awards in Witch Weekly for Bachelor of the Year.

To spite her, he did the gentlemanly thing and conceded, albeit not so gracefully. “I’m only trying to say…you shouldn’t lump us all in with a few bad apples. I certainly wouldn’t have disappointed you like that.”

“How comforting to know. I’m still sticking with my hypothesis, but thanks for trying.”

Well, now he was thinking about how he would kiss her, if given the chance.

(This was purely for scientific reasons, of course.)

Garreth, eager to salvage what remained of his pride, readied another reply as he sprinkled the flakes of dittany into his lightly smoking cauldron. It would have been a good one, too, if not for —

“Garreth!”

There was only a hair of a second between her shouting his name in warning and what was possibly one of his most impressive explosions to date. Even though she lunged for him, she was too late to stop the blast from sending him reeling backwards with a hand over his burning-hot face and a very unbecoming cry of surprise.

Having expected him to be closer, she stumbled in her attempt at pushing him out of the way, and thus they collided like two atoms — tumbling to the stone floor in a jumble of limbs and hissed curses.

“Come on, seriously, Garreth?” Sebastian groaned from an adjacent potions station. He, along with a few others who’d been close to the blast, were coughing and waving away billowing clouds of smoke.

Natty sighed. “That’ll be another ten points from Gryffindor.”

But their protestations fell to the wayside once he was peering up at the sheepish face of his savior; no more than a few inches away. Within kissing distance, even.

Wait. What?

“Fuck. Ow. Sorry,” she groaned, trying to untangle their aching limbs as she lay half-splayed across Garreth’s chest.

It was then that his traitorous mind started paying attention to how warm she was, how bright that ring of pure gold in her eyes was, how infuriatingly good the blend of mallowsweet and smoke clinging to her like a second skin smelled…

Shiiiiittt. Shit, shit, shit.

“No, it’s, uh, it’s my fault. Totally my fault, I wasn’t, er…paying attention,” he panted. The wind had been thoroughly knocked out of him — and it wasn’t just because her elbow had struck him right in the stomach when they’d fallen.

When she managed to sort herself out and hastily climb to her feet, that stinging feeling from before returned, and Garreth didn’t notice the developing bruise on his tailbone one bit.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“Oh, er, I think so,” he stood up, legs wobbling like a newborn thestral, and dusted off his robes. “My pride took the biggest blow. Though I suppose I should count myself lucky I had the Hero of Hogwarts to save me.”

He waggled his brows, and her jaw went slack before she was doubled over in a fit of raucous laughter.

“What?! It wasn’t that funny.“

“No, you —“ she can hardly get the words out between breathless giggles. “Garreth, your eyebrows.”

Reaching up, his fingers found the ridge just above his eyes — where, indeed, great chunks of what was once thick ginger hair are missing. “Bollocks. That’s the third time in six months.”

The unfortunate loss of his eyebrows (and dignity) became yesterday’s news when she traversed the newly formed space between them to rub what he assumed was soot off of his nose, still chuckling to herself. He resisted the urge to brush away the wayward hairs sticking to her forehead in kind.

“I’ll give you this — you’re definitely not most men,” she grinned.

It was probably an insult, but all Garreth heard was a ringing endorsement. Against the odds, he cracked a lopsided smile of his own.

Maybe he’d even call it a victory.

Professor Sharp waved his wand, and the thick fumes disappeared, allowing them all a good glimpse of his signature long-suffering scowl.

“Ten points from Gryffindor. Shocking, I know,” the ex-Auror sighed, resigned. “And I expect that cauldron to be replaced within the fortnight.”

Well. A bittersweet victory, to be sure.

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Everything tumbled downhill from there.

In the spirit of further self-reflection, Garreth knew that their unceremonious meeting on the dirty floor of the Potions classroom wasn’t some hit-him-over-the-head moment of recognition — even if most of his revelations came in that form. This one had been creeping up on him since fifth year, like a wily sort of poison; disguised with a sweet scent to throw him off.

But just how massively fucked was he, you may ask?

That became clear one rainy afternoon. Not just any rainy afternoon, mind you, because those were a galleon a dozen during autumn in the Scottish Highlands; but the afternoon of their first Quidditch game of the year against Slytherin.

Which didn’t help the fact that his head was already so not in the game.

It started out well enough, with Gryffindor managing to make several goals in a row that had their swaths of supporters in the stands crowing with pride. Garreth did his best to keep up as he weaved and dodged and looped around the field, trying to focus solely on the hunt for Bludgers. Of course, this required him to pay equally close attention to his teammates lest they fall victim to one of the bloodthirsty balls.

One teammate in particular more than the others, perhaps.

Flying was made all the more difficult by the sheets of icy rain pelting his face. Not even the goggles – with the assistance of an Impervious Charm – were helping him distinguish much more than vague blobs of color streaking through the cloudy sky. This, he justified, was why he started to miss more swings than he made and almost dropped his bat (twice). It wasn’t Garreth’s fault the elements were working against them.

Despite that, they were still forty points up when the conniving snakes switched tactics and started going after Gryffindors’ three female Chasers. Natty was an expert at evasion, and Nellie tended to fly high to avoid them… but not her.

She always had to be in the bloody thick of it, didn’t she?

It might have been annoying, if it wasn’t so damn impressive. Garreth couldn’t help but admire the way she moved; how she’d feint and crack a little smile each time someone fell for the trick. The way her red sweater clung, dripping, from her frame and strands of hair curled around her wet forehead were particularly distracting, too.

For the first time in his career, Garreth found himself wishing he was in the crowd – just so he could watch her.

Sebastian tossed the Quaffle to Imelda over Natty’s head – only for his face to contort with rage when it was snatched from the air between them. Garreth whooped proudly when she took off towards the goal posts. The first Bludger was hot on her tail, but so was he, maneuvering between her and the ball. He spent the next few minutes as her guardian until having to turn tail at the last minute to rescue Lucan.

The next events happened so quickly he couldn’t quite recall much but this: a familiar, feminine cry of alarm from behind him, the brown blur of a Bludger streaking towards him, and the reverberation in his arm when his bat connected with it. There was a thunderous crack, and then another scream.

What he’d meant to do was send it towards any of the three Slytherins trying to overtake her, but instead…

Garreth’s entire world narrowed down to the moment when she just barely managed to duck out of the Bludger’s path. He’d come to a screeching halt on his broom, hovering mere feet away from her with his eyes wide as saucers behind his foggy goggles, something sinking inside him as the Slytherins flew off with the Quaffle. The stadium erupted into cheers for them seconds later.

“What the hell was that?” She panted, her indignant scowl apparent even through the downpour. “You almost took my bloody head off, Garreth!”

“It — it was an accident. And you’re fine, right, so no harm, no foul?” He had to shout to be heard over the spectators and the wind.

“An inch to the left and I wouldn’t have been fine at all! I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you need to get it together!”

“I just –”

She sped off so fast the resulting wind made him shiver. Either Garreth was simply losing his touch, or there was something seriously wrong with him lately. Cursing to himself, he shook off the chill her anger had left him with and the shame that followed, and threw himself back into the game comforted by the knowledge that he’d be able to get roaring drunk at the after party.

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Drunk might be an understatement, actually.

By the time the party was in full swing, Garreth had already downed more than his share of the sneakily procured liquor (courtesy of yours truly, Sirona’s unrelenting generosity, and several bribes to the house elves in the kitchens). Someone had enchanted a few of the lamps to change color occasionally, throwing red and green and blue lights around Gryffindor’s common room, which teemed with House members in Quidditch jumpers and all other manner of memorabilia. Even little Doge and Dumbledore had emerged briefly to shyly congratulate the team.

Not even the jubilant music pouring from the gramophone or the well-earned laughter of the partygoers could drown out what was going on inside Garreth’s head.

He’d never embarrassed himself so profoundly at a match before. Quidditch, like potion-making, was one of the few areas Garreth excelled in, and he couldn’t even do that right. Ever since school had started up again, he’d been a mess. Exploding cauldrons, racking up more detentions than ever, always saying the wrong thing…

It was seventh year, for Merlin’s sake, and he was a grown wizard now. But while everyone else was coming into themselves, it seemed like he was just coming apart.

So instead of enjoying the victory, Garreth had taken to drowning his sorrows in drink while watching from the sidelines; neck-deep in an early quarter life crisis while slumped in one of the armchairs. Leander found him there eventually, his freckled face a mask of concern as he leaned against the wall beside him.

“What’s with the sour face?” Leander raised a brow. “We just beat Slytherin! I thought you’d be dancing on the tables or something.”

“I’m not really in the dancing mood. Go on, I’ll live vicariously through you.” Garreth grumbled.

“As much as everyone would probably love to see that, I’d rather find out what’s got your wand all knotted up.”

Garreth sighed, raking the hand not currently clutching a glass of Firewhiskey through his still-damp curls. “You saw what happened, Lee. The team’s probably pissed at me for being a massive disappointment, especially…”

He gestured vaguely to the hero of the hour (the hero of every hour of every day as far as he was concerned, and she’d earned the title several times over) across the room. She was talking with Natty, Nellie, and Cressida by the fireplace, her smile brighter than the flames’ glow that lit her from behind. A clawed hand squeezed at his heart.

“Oh, that? That was…I mean, you made a minor miscalculation. Most of them have forgotten already, I reckon.” Leander’s eyes darted to the side — as they always did when he was lying horribly.

“A minor miscalculation that could have led to the untimely death of one of my best friends.”

“You’re being even more dramatic than usual…are you tossed already?”

”I dunno, mum; am I?”

There was a quiet rumble around him, like thunder. At first he thought it was just his stomach informing him of how much he’d indeed had to drink, but then a fat drop of rain landed on his nose.

Leander’s big, dark eyes rolled to the ceiling, and he dragged Garreth onto his slightly unsteady feet with an arm in his. “Alright, you’re being bloody insufferable, and you’ve quite literally got a dark cloud hanging over you. Come on, up you get — go talk to her and apologize.”

“No, Lee, please!” Garreth whined. “I’ve suffered enough humiliation today.”

”Don’t be a coward, you’ll be fine.”

The taller boy weaved through the crowd easily, pulling a stumbling Garreth along beside him until they came face-to-face with the very group of girls he had been avoiding all night. They all went quiet immediately — which was not a good sign.

Garreth scratched the back of his head, glancing between Leander and the witch with the suspicious scowl in front of him, feeling for all the world like he’d never been less of a Gryffindor than in that moment. Surely the alcohol was supposed to help with these things, right?

”Er…would you like to dance?” He blurted.

Well, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all. But having to talk to her at all in his clumsy state seemed even more daunting with all eyes on him, and getting her alone was a simple solution.

“You sure you’ll be able to without tripping over your feet?” Nellie snorted.

“‘M perfectly cohabitated — uh, coordinated, I mean,” Garreth argued.

Natty shook her head, hiding her laughter behind a hand. “Oh, dear.”

His favorite witch turned a familiar shade of pink, and for a moment Garreth feared that she’d laugh in his face, but eventually she sighed and handed her bottle of Butterbeer to Natty.

“If you step on my toes, I’ll jinx you,” she warned, leading him to the center of the room where groups of friends and cozy couples were scattered to dance to the magically amplified music (it was a miracle none of the professors had come to complain about it, really).

“No promises.”

Garreth wrestled with what to do when they got there. Was he supposed to take her hand? Her waist? Or, rather, should he keep it friendly and avoid touching her at all? The latter option seemed much less risky, and yet he found himself longing to feel her hand in his and the heat of her body. He’d been hooked ever since that day in Potions.

Deciding it would be better to keep his distance for now, Garreth went with swaying awkwardly on the spot instead, but she had other ideas — her hand sought out his, and she threw him into a dizzying little turn that evoked both laughter and a slight wave of nausea.

“Oh, are you leading?” He chuckled, suddenly thankful for the ballroom lessons they’d all received the year prior as he mimicked her move, twirling her playfully with ease that surprised even him.

“That might be safer,” she said. “Although you’re not doing half bad so far.”

“Always the tone of surprise,” Garreth grinned proudly.

He spent the better part of five minutes praying he wouldn’t step on her toes while simultaneously working up the courage to acknowledge the erupment in the room. And, because the universe didn’t like to make anything easy for him, Garreth had to compete with the little flutters in his stomach that beat their furious wings each time she laughed or squeezed his hand.

Merlin, just pull your wand out of your ass.

“Hey, so, about earlier. You know, during the game… you’re right, I wasn’t…I don’t know where my head’s been lately. I didn’t mean to muck things up.”

His breath held until she shrugged, her easy smile fading into something edged with concern. “Don’t worry about it. We won, and my head’s still attached to my body, so no hard feelings.”

She drew back, the impish grin back as she spun him again — which wasn’t very easy considering he had to duck under her arm. The room seemed to be moving with him, and Garreth had to right himself as subtly as possible when he came to a stop as colors that didn’t belong to the lights danced in his vision.

“You alright?” She chuckled, her hands braced on his biceps to steady him. “I think Nellie might have had a point about you tripping.”

“No, no, I’m good, just waiting for the room to stop spinning so I can look at you again.”

That hadn’t quite come out right. In place of the eye roll he was expecting, she giggled, adding fuel to his liquid confidence.

“Gods, you’re cute when you laugh,” Garreth found himself saying. He realized she was leading him away from the crowd, and soon he sank into a squashy cushion beside her. “I mean, you’re a bit blurry right now, but…still cute.”

“Okay, what’s gotten into you lately? Not that I mind the flirting… but you’ve been a right mess for weeks. I don’t think I’ve seen you this drunk before; not even when you saw your OWL results.”

A low groan rumbled in the back of his throat. “I’m peachy, pinkie promise.” Did she just say she didn’t mind his flirting?

Giggling at how absurd the words sounded together, he stuck his pinkie out to her and waited. “Come on, these are sacred!”

She did actually roll her eyes this time, but then her smallest finger hooked around his, and it didn’t pull away even when they were certainly exceeding the normal amount of time for a handshake. Garreth could smell the sweetness of Butterbeer on her breath.

It wasn’t enough to convince her, though. “Are you stressed about NEWTs? Who am I kidding, everyone and their grandmothers are. But if it’s really getting to you, then —“

Apparently, she wasn’t giving up, so Garreth sighed and rested his head against the back of the couch.

“Yes, I’m a bit strung out over the exams that will decide our entire career, what d’you think? I’m not going to have a fit over it.”

“Sorry,” her hands raised in surrender. “Just trying to figure out why you haven’t quite been yourself since the term started because I bloody care.”

“I would argue that blowing things up and making stupid decisions is very much on brand for me.”

Releasing a heavy sigh (more like an impatient huff, really), she wrested her pinkie from his, leaving Garreth more than a bit disappointed. But then again, what had he expected? That she’d sit there and hold his hand?

He hadn’t earned that. Somehow, he had earned her friendship from the very first day of their fifth year, but in no way did he reserve the right to even hope of something more. She was, well… extraordinary, and Garreth was an extraordinary disaster.

Maybe it was time he rectified that.

“Wait,” he tugged pathetically on her sleeve when she rose from the couch. “Sit with me for a little bit longer? I might need someone to Accio a rubbish bin over here soon.”

To his great relief, she sat down again, shaking her head to disguise a little chuckle. “You’re something else, y’know?”

”I’ve been told once or twice.”

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Bonfire Nights had been sparse the past couple of years around Hogwarts, as many of the residents had feared drawing attention to themselves with the looming threat of Ashwinders and goblins and the like. This year, Garreth had had the pleasure of seeing pyres built weeks beforehand, and by the end of October Zonko’s had sold out of Filibuster’s Fireworks.

As night settled over the Highlands, bonfires began to flare to life all along the rolling hills, appearing like flaming stars from the view at the castle. Garreth, alongside a group of fellow seventh years carrying sparklers and mini-fireworks, spent the brisk walk to the hill above Hogsmeade village lost in uncharacteristic melancholy. He’d never been the sort to reminisce; preferring to live in the here and now whenever possible, but for some reason the knowledge that this would be his last Bonfire Night at Hogwarts made it all a bit bittersweet (the flavor of the month, it seemed).

They drank hot chocolate in ceramic mugs provided by Sirona, surrounded by the body heat of the villages’ residents as they talked and laughed and chased their children away from the forest at the edge of the plateau. Hogsmeade’s lights had been dimmed for the occasion, glowing softly below them to allow the six foot pyre they gathered around to shine.

“I can’t believe next month is Christmas already,” Leander was saying between greedy sips of the drink cupped in his blue-tinged hands. “Then it’ll be the New Year, then Spring Break, and before we know it we’ll be taking our NEWTs and graduating…”

“Breathe, Lee,” Garreth chuckled. At least he wasn’t the only one getting hit with the terrifying reality of time all at once.

”I know, is it not amazing? The last few years have gone by so quickly. I will miss this place come summer, though,” Natty sighed wistfully.

Nellie snorted. “Speak for yourself. If I never have to open a textbook again after school is over, it’ll be too soon.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Leander?” His favorite Gryffindor (don’t tell Nats or Leander) joined their little circle, her frame wrapped in a thick red scarf and one of his old Christmas sweaters she’d stolen from him in fifth year and never given back — not that he minded, as it didn’t fit him anymore and looked far better on her, anyway.

The lanky redhead grumbled a reply, “Easy for you to say. Half of my job will be desk work.”

“No shame in that,” she shrugged. “Garreth’s going to be behind a cauldron, after all.”

“Hey, Potioneers do other things besides just… brew. I’ll still forage for my own ingredients, travel to sell them… hell, one day, I might just have my own shop.” Garreth said with pride.

“So long as you don’t blow it up,” her cheeks dimpled when she smiled.

As if on cue, a loud boom shook the ground beneath them. Everyone’s eyes shot to the sky, cheers swelling amongst the crowd as the first firework exploded in a shower of golden sparks, dissolving back towards the earth like falling stars. Despite all their talk of the future, Garreth felt like a first-year again as a smile broke out on his slightly chapped lips, apparently not immune to the childlike wonder the fireworks always seemed to bring.

The next one was even louder and brighter. Garreth nearly jumped out of his skin when an iron grip closed around his arm and a body pressed into his left side. She had buried her face in his shoulder, too, and a warm feeling unrelated to the cocoa spread from his stomach.

“Aww, is the big, bad Gryffindor afraid of fireworks?” he teased, trying not to enjoy the smell of her shampoo or the color in her cheeks too much as she looked up at him sheepishly.

“Shut up!” The shivering witch hissed. “Am not. I’m just…cold, and you’re a damn furnace, as usual.”

“Oh, you’re cold,” Garreth pouted just for the drama of it. Then, before he could convince himself it was a bad idea, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer still. “I suppose I’ll have to keep you warm, then.”

”And they say chivalry is dead.”

She flinched after the third blast, leading him to rub her shoulder in a subtle attempt at comfort, his heart thumping almost as loud as the fireworks now going off in quick succession when she curled into him. It was then that his Neanderthal brain concluded why she might have been so terrified; after fighting in a bloody war just two years ago.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be. I don’t mind.” At all. Garreth laughed to himself and set down his mug in the grass so he could cover the ear she didn’t have pressed to his chest with his hand.

“You know, you’re really sweet when you want to be,” he thought he heard her say over the explosions echoing throughout the valleys.

He lowered his head to speak into the ear closest to him, lips brushing the flyaways from her hair, rubbing her arm again when he noticed her shiver. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold; can’t have everyone think I’ve gone soft.”

Truth be told, his limbs always felt like melted taffy around her — he was practically a puddle at her feet.

They were quiet for a few minutes. Eventually, her head lifted partially from his shoulder, and with a sidelong glance he caught her peering up at the sky with a look best described as wonder. Each burst of sparks was reflected in her wide eyes, and Garreth felt tiny pricks of electricity along every nerve in his body at the sight.

“So, um…” he scrambled for something to say so he wouldn’t think about how close her lips would be if she turned to the side a bit. “Are you still going to write to me after school’s over? Or will you forget all about us little people when you’re off traveling the world in search of ancient relics and having daring adventures?”

“Of course I’m going to write, you moonmind,” she looked up at him, then, and his hand fell from the side of her head. “And I’ll come visit, too, so I can see that shop of yours.”

Perhaps she was just humoring him, but Garreth found nothing but sincerity in her soft smile, and his own crooked grin widened at the thought that she might be one of the first to genuinely believe in him.

“What’s got you so pensive all of a sudden?”

He shrugged, absentmindedly playing with the frayed edges of her cashmere scarf. “Maybe it’s just the old age catching up to me. It pairs well with my bum hip, I think.”

”Come on, I’m serious. I won’t tell anyone and ruin your sterling reputation, I swear.”

“I don’t know,” Garreth let out a sigh, his breath clouding in the air between them. “Just realized how much I’m gonna miss you.”

“And here I thought you’d be sick of my face after seeing it every day for three years,” her eyes darted away from him to watch a spray of green and red fill the starry sky. She wasn’t shaking anymore.

Never, he almost said. Garreth knew, as he gazed hopelessly at her perfect profile, that he would never be tired of her face — well, of all of her, really. In fact, he wouldn’t mind seeing her every day for the rest of his life.

“If you’re going to miss me so desperately… Perhaps you could join me on one of my so-called ‘daring adventures’ sometime; on the off chance Pippin gives you a holiday.”

His brows shot up as she met his stare. “Really? You’d want me to tag along?”

Their classmates and the villagers burst into raucous whistles and hollering as the finale began, fireworks filling the air with the smell of gunpowder and a rainbow of light that flashed on everyone’s uplifted faces. Garreth held her tightly lest she start to panic again, but the witch in his arms just laughed jubilantly at the crowd’s infectious excitement, nodding in response to his question.

“Sure. Never know when you might need a talented Potioneer to back you up. Fair warning that we’re bound to run into some trouble now and again, naturally.”

The thump of his heart became something wild and frantic, beating away beneath the hand she’d placed on his chest until he feared it, too, would simply explode. Gods, if they weren’t careful, he would wind up doing something massively stupid… or massively genius, depending on the results.

“As long as you’re there, I say bring it on,” Garreth beamed.

He could hardly believe his luck. She’d asked him to accompany her on her travels! That had to mean something, right?

Only one way to find out for sure…

“And would it be…er, just the two of us, or would Sebastian and Ominis and the rest of the crew be joining as well?”

Her eyes sparkled with recognition. “That depends on how you would feel about us traveling alone.”

”Would it be rather selfish of me to say that I’d love to have you to myself for a bit?”

“Probably…” her breath warmed his cheeks, though they were already burning hotter than a cauldron flame as Garreth became hypnotized by the way her teeth worried at her reddened lower lip. “But then I’d have to admit that I’m selfish, too.”

Now, that was a sign.

The last round of fireworks were utterly deafening, so Garreth had to lean in once again until the cold tips of their noses brushed to say, “Could I be even more of a self-serving bastard and ask you for one more thing?”

”Yes, you can — and yes to anything you want,” her lashes fluttered as her gaze dropped down to his slightly parted mouth.

“Anything?”

Garreth wasn’t one to ignore an opportunity when it arose. He took it and ran, gently placing his hand beneath her chin at the same moment his eyes slid shut and their lips brushed together with such a delicate touch that he shuddered. Then she took the lead, deepening the kiss with a wispy little sigh that had him weak at the knees and left him unable to form any solid thought but for how fucking incredible she tasted with the remnants of rich chocolate on her tongue.

When the two of them disconnected, the last sparks were fading from the sky, but they lived on in Garreth’s veins, popping and crackling like Fizzing Whizbees.

“See?” He murmured while still trying to catch his breath. “Didn’t disappoint you, did I?”

Her laughter bubbled up between them, brighter than any display. “You never disappoint, Garreth Weasley.”

Garreth had wondered before if he’d been made wrong; like one of his failed experiments with just a splash too much of the wrong thing. But perhaps — especially with someone like her to help keep him stable — some of the best things could come from the unpredictable and the unexpected.

He didn’t exactly find the missing ingredient…it had been there all along.

#my first published garreth fic whaaat #if you saw my WIP folder though…#procrastinated this one so hard uhh ignore the minimal editing effort #i didn’t see anything saying bonfire night is celebrated in Scotland but I just wanted an excuse for fireworks ok #hogwarts legacy #garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley x mc #garrethweasleyfest #garrethweasleyfest24 #writing

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