#surprised at the ravenclaw sweep

[redeemingbaddies]

Tagged by the talented @dastardly-lemondrops Thank you!

[rosesareredrosa]

Quick Realizations

Mattheo Riddle x fem reader

Summary: Mattheo Riddle has always known everything about everyone—except his own feelings. When a playful conversation turns into an unexpected confession, Mattheo realises he might like you more than just as a friend.

w/c: 1287

a/n: send in requests pls I have no clue what to write about

To no one's surprise, Mattheo knows almost everything.

For example, he knows that he's your best friend.

He knows that you prefer studying by the Black Lake rather than in the library, that you secretly adore Herbology even though you complain about the dirt, and that you like sneaking out after curfew just to wander the castle halls at night. He also knows that Pansy has been in a better mood since Draco complimented her new potion-brewed perfume, and that Theo's been practicing his wandwork more than usual because he's been trying to impress a certain Ravenclaw in Charms class.

Simply put, Mattheo knows everything about everyone.

"And then what did she do?" He leans back against the stone bench, casually tossing a stray pebble into the lake, watching as the water ripples outward.

"We just talked afterward," you shrug, watching as a pair of first years try to coax the Giant Squid to the surface. "It was nice catching up with her; it's been a while."

"I bet. She's a nightmare," Mattheo chuckles, popping a chocolate frog into his mouth as he speaks. He chews thoughtfully for a moment before glancing over at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Oh!" Your eyes brighten as you recall something, turning to face him.

You can't help but burst into laughter when you see his face, but you quickly compose yourself, keeping your smile in check. "She also said the funniest thing—she said that she thought you had feelings for me!"

His eyes widen in surprise, his jaw dropping ever so slightly. "That's ridiculous."

"I know, right?" You snicker, adjusting your scarf as a cold breeze sweeps across the grounds. He joins you in laughter, the idea of liking you as more than a friend clearly absurd to him.

"Hahaha!"

"Hahaha!"

But as your laughter dies down, his smile falters.

"Theo, what do I do?!"

His roommate sits at a desk in the Slytherin common room, poring over a detailed Quidditch strategy diagram. His brows are furrowed in concentration as he plans out moves for the upcoming match against Gryffindor.

"Just tell her."

"I’ll hex you into next week."

"If it’s between you being a miserable pain in my arse and getting hexed, I’ll take the hex, mate," Theo mutters, not bothering to look up from his plans.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow. "Why are you so sure you’re going to get hexed?"

"Because I’m associated with you," Theo replies dryly, finally glancing up from his Quidditch strategy with a smirk. "Help me out first, and then curse me later. C'mon, don't be stingy."

"I literally already gave you advice, just tell her how you feel."

"One small problem with that."

"What now?"

"I—" Mattheo opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find the right words. He eventually settles on giving Theo an innocent smile. "Well, I actually don't know if I like her like that? It was an in-the-moment realization kind of thing, but now I'm just confused—"

Theo lets out an exasperated sigh, tossing his quill aside and turning fully to face Mattheo. "Are you serious?" He glares at Mattheo, disbelief etched across his face. "She can’t even brew a simple potion without asking for your help, and you’re practically useless in class if you can’t sit next to her! You two have the most ridiculous relationship I’ve ever seen!"

Mattheo crosses his arms, frowning. Theo sighs again, rubbing his temples. "...Respectfully, of course."

"Talk rubbish about her again and I'll jinx you into a toad. I'm serious."

"That’s literally my point."

"That doesn’t mean you get to be mean! Take it back!"

Theo bites back a retort, narrowing his eyes at his friend. "For someone who’s so observant," he says slowly, "you know nothing."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Mattheo’s eyes narrow, suddenly on the defensive.

"Well," Theo shrugs nonchalantly, "I’ve noticed that Comrac McLaggen has been showing a lot of interest in her lately. He might even confess soon, who knows? Maybe even today."

Mattheo stares at Theo, completely stunned by the revelation. His mind races as he processes his friend’s words; Theo can practically see the exact moment the realization dawns on him. Like a flash, Mattheo jumps to his feet.

"Theo, I’ve got to go! Good luck with the Quidditch match!"

"Gryffindor's not going to know what hit them."

But before he can finish, Mattheo is already out the door.

The key to your dorm unlocks itself, and right on time, Mattheo bursts through the door, slightly out of breath, his hair messier than usual from the wind.

"What’s this—?" You barely get the words out before Mattheo grabs your shoulders, his eyes wide as he searches yours for a moment before blurting out, "I like you."

You blink, taken aback by his sudden confession, but he doesn’t give you time to respond before he continues.

"I was going back and forth with Theo, and honestly, he messed with my head a bit, but I’ve come to a decision, and I know I like you. So don’t even think about dating Comrac, he’s a decent bloke and all, but he’s not right for you. And besides, if you dated him, you'd have to deal with his mates, and that sounds like a nightmare."

You knew who Comrac was, but you stay silent to let him continue speaking. Mattheo was always the more talkative one between the two of you (he’s also the one with the warmer smile, which is funny because his hands feel like ice against your sweater).

His hands move from your shoulders to your arms, and he swallows nervously. "I’m usually not this anxious around you, y'know," he admits, words tumbling out in a rush, "normally I feel at ease talking to you, but right now I feel like I’m going to pass out."

"Did you run here from the common room?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Mattheo!" You soften instantly, placing your hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he sighs in relief. You frown at his recklessness, "You know how much running through the castle exhausts you. Why didn’t you just use the Floo network?"

"I just really wanted to see you." He pouts, opening his eyes to look at you with a vulnerability that makes your heart melt. "Like I said, Theo really messed with my head."

"I’m going to jinx him."

"Please do."

"And Mattheo?"

"Hm?"

It’s really sweet, actually—how he’s forgotten about his whole reason for coming here. But you can’t blame him too much; he’s just dashed through half the castle after battling his own nerves, and every hero deserves a reward for their courage. Especially Mattheo, who more than deserves a happy ending, and you couldn’t be more thrilled to give one to him.

"I like you too, by the way. Theo may be a little meddlesome, but he’s got great intuition; I was actually about to head to your dorm to tell you."

He gasps. "But running exhausts you!"

You smile sheepishly. "I guess I just really wanted to see you."

His jaw drops for the tenth time that day, and he pulls you into a tight hug, burying his head into your neck, murmuring against your shoulder. "I love you, I love you, I love—"

"I love you too." You smile because you do love him. He’s been your best friend since first year, your partner in crime through every adventure, the boy you admired before you even understood what admiration was. "Since you’re here, want to watch a movie? I’ve got that Muggle DVD player you’re always curious about."

"Absolutely!"

As he hums to himself, cutting up some Honeydukes sweets for your impromptu movie session.

[athenasparrow]

A microfic series inspired by @jilymicrofics July Prompt List. All the times they touched...

Lay All Your Love On Me | Rating: M

Chapter Three | Beginning

Prompt: firm Summary: The first time Lily kisses James, he doesn’t even know. 

Midnight patrol is Lily's least favourite shift. The wind outside rivals the mournful howls of Moaning Myrtle and the cold, a silent thief, relentlessly pursues her, determined to rob her of every ounce of warmth she contains. A frustrated huff escapes her lips as she casts yet another warming charm, seeking respite from the chilly air. Hands thrust deep in her pockets, she quickens her pace. This year's patrols are better yet somehow worse than before (for the very same reasons, nonetheless) and serve as a cruel reminder of their friendship —charming, lovely, endearing, yet unattainable. Nothing sucks joy from her very existence quite like the reminder of being friends . At least they weren’t fucking professionals.

Lily is so lost in thought, James’ commanding tone jolts her from her daze and she glares at a portrait that has the gall to laugh. She pauses at the corner, fingers grazing the comforting weight of her wand. How should she proceed? She briefly peers around the corner, careful not to be seen. She sees James’ (broad and delicious) back as he faces down three Ravenclaw upperclassmen, who stare stonily at the floor. Two wide-eyed first years – barely visible behind his towering figure –  look on in awe as James thunders like an angry sea. Lily can’t blame them; if she had less control over her face, she'd spend the day gawking at him too.

A surge of admiration washes over her, sparked by James's protective stance against the injustice of older students tormenting younger ones. He’s undeniably attractive like this and she finds herself wanting him. It's neither new nor surprising, but she still finds herself annoyed. His authoritative voice only enhances her admiration (and her arousal). If it isn't for the expectation of her presence – he’ll worry himself silly if she disappears – she'd retreat, draw a bath and submerge herself in relief .

Sweeping her thoughts aside like fallen autumn leaves, she composes herself and makes her way over to him. The Ravenclaws are gone. "Alright?" she asks softly.

James's eyes, now devastatingly soft, meet hers. "Yeah, we're just going to walk these two back to their common room."

One of the young girls smiles shyly at Lily, and she sends a warm grin back. "What brings you two out so late?"

"Following in your footsteps," James teases before either of them can answer her.

"My footsteps?" Lily laughs as the first-years watch wide-eyed. "Isn't wandering around after midnight more your territory?"

"Not since they were in the library," James whispers conspiratorially, winking at the children. "Keep it up, and you'll become almost as brilliant as our Head Girl here."

When wide eyes find Lily, she blushes like a rose in full bloom. She hopes he perceives her reaction as embarrassment rather than deciphering the true reasons for her flush. Blushing at the attention of first years is appropriate. Her thoughts on James are not.

James carries the conversation effortlessly, his words as smooth as a gentle river, and Lily lets herself sink into the rhythm of his voice, humming in agreement on occasion, but only half-aware of the exchange.

"You alright?" James mutters, bumping his hip against hers, grounding her wandering mind. Don't shiver . They’re well on their way back now, having ascended two flights of stairs while she’s been stuck in her thoughts (fantasies, really, but that’s just semantics). I’m far from fine . I am completely and utterly taken with you and I’m too late . "Yeah, just thinking—"

James freezes at her pause and his gaze follows hers to the end of the hallway. Mrs Norris emitted a menacing, drawn-out meow, fixing them with her piercing stare.

"Shit!" James curses, gripping Lily's hand and yanking her— rather ungracefully—around a corner and behind a tapestry. The world outside the tapestry fades to a distant hum, echoes of footsteps and a muffled voice carrying on the wind like whispers of ghosts.

"Why are we hiding, James?" Lily murmurs, once she’s (somewhat) regained control over her wild heart. "We're allowed to be patrolling."

"Right! Shit!" James curses again , his voice strained. "Old habits die hard, I suppose." Discomfort radiates from his large frame. He doesn’t want to be this close to her. "Should we...?" He gestures towards the door.

"Not with Filch right there!" Lily hisses. "Then we'll definitely look like we're up to something."

They’re flush against each other in the confined space – breath ragged, hearts pounding – and Lily can feel every contour of his body. Her flushed face radiates warmth; his presence is exhilarating. James' warm exhale on her ear ignites a familiar heat between her legs. Surely, he must feel it—the rapid cadence of her heartbeat. They remain pressed tightly together, a tangle of limbs and she takes a moment to marvel at his proximity. Their bodies meld together like molten metal. They fit perfectly. And then she shifts again and feels it: he’s rock hard against her belly and twitches as she moves. Her cheeks burn as she steals a glance at him, but his gaze isn’t fixed on her. Instead, his head is tilted back, his lips moving silently, and Lily suddenly yearns to trace the line of his throat with her tongue.

Don’t read into it Lily chides herself. It's just a physiological response to being pressed against another body. It would happen to anyone. James pulses against her again, eliciting a responsive throb between her legs. She wants to kiss him. She can’t.  Perhaps he's experiencing a random boner —guys get those all the time, right?" 

He must notice her stillness, her abnormal breathing, her racing heart. He must mistake her internal tumult for something entirely different; a strained apology falls from his lips as he attempts to shift away from her (he only succeeds in brushing against her again). Lily doesn’t want his apology. She yearns for him to press against her more firmly, to trace the shape of him through his trousers. She longs to feel the heat, the softness, the hardness beneath her fingertips. She wants to guide him inside her and discover what it feels like to be consumed by him. Yet, she remains frozen, immobile. She can’t move; she can’t speak. All she can do is stand there, silently gazing at him as he composes himself. His face is tight and red in embarrassment and Lily wishes she could make him flush for entirely different reasons.

"It's fine," Lily squeaks before he could say anything. She holds her finger up, urging him to maintain his silence as she strains her ears. "He's gone, I think we're in the clear."

The first time James is pressed hard against her, Lily can’t even fucking appreciate it.

[ask-andrew-larson]

A tall brunet approaches you slowly, a soft, disarming smile on his face.  You recognize him from several classes you share and remember seeing him often in the dorms, reading, studying or entertaining the various pets owned by other Ravenclaw students.  You recall his name is Hellendil.

“Hello, Andrew!”  He sweeps into a bow, braid sliding down over his shoulder.  Straightening, he continues, “I'm terribly sorry I haven't gotten to know you better since I came to Hogwarts, but I wanted to remedy that by saying hello and offering you a little treat for the holiday.”  He holds out his hands to reveal several delicious looking, hand pulled candy canes.  “Just a little something.  I hope you enjoy them!  Merry Christmas, Andrew!”

*The first thought that entered Andrew’s head was how remarkably tall Hellendil was up close. He knew, of course, with Hellendil being closest to Felix’s height in their House. Temporarily transfixed as he gazed up, Andrew was slightly taken aback when Hellendil held out the candy canes. For him? His eyes rounded in astonishment.*

For me? T-thank you! I- 

*His hands flew to his mouth, and he gasped in dismay. He hadn’t prepared anything in retu- wait! At the risk of leaving Hellendil bewildered, Andrew motioned with a hand and then hastily dashed down the steps to his room, shouting backwards at the same time.* 

Please wait!

*Thankfully, Andrew had baked a batch of mince pies that morning as a surprise for his mother when they were due home that evening. His mother would be pleased to hear that Andrew had friends to share it with, he told himself, as he grabbed the small box sitting on top of his trunk. 

Hurrying back out to the domed enclave where he left Hellendil standing, he pressed the box into the other Ravenclaw’s hands and accepted the candy canes in turn.*

Happy Christmas, Hellendil! I hope you like mince pies. And icing sugar. I was rather generous with my sprinkling. *Andrew’s cheeks coloured slightly, but he beamed happily up at Hellendil all the same.*

[cecilia01]

Ordinary

Chapter three First Impressions

The first day of the term, I woke up to the golden sunrays caressing my cheeks through the ornate windows of our dormitory. For a few minutes I only laid there, enjoying the warmth and the dance of the lights on the scattered furniture and the belongings of my mates, feeling glad to be back.

After dressing in robes and pestering Samantha up too, the both of us emerged from the girls’ side to the Ravenclaw common room, to leave for breakfast. ‘I really don’t see the point in starting school so early, really.’ said Samantha with an enormous eyewatering yawn. ‘My mind does not work anyway, so I might as well just miss the morning classes…�� ‘9 o’clock is not that early, Sam. In my muggle school we started at 8, and you had to commute too. Besides, not everyone is such a late riser.’ I smiled at her. It had been five years, and every morning was a battle. Sam was in every aspect an owl: wise, deep thinker and nocturnal. ‘It is not healthy. I read in a book that you shall sleep enough amount of time each day for your brain to develop well. Do they not want me to get as clever as possible? Honestly…’ She went on with her rant over the disadvantages of forcing people to get up at an uncomfortable time, until we reached our table in the bustle of the Great Hall. ‘Have you seen the timetable yet?’ asked Amit as we sat down to get some tea and toast. ‘No, I have not.’ I said, pouring tea to Samantha, who was already half asleep on Everett Clopton’s shoulder. ‘Is it bad? I shan’t bear another year with double potions on Monday mornings. That was plain torture last year.’ ‘It was not that bad, the Transfiguration after, on the other hand…’ said Samantha, spooning some porridge. ‘No, it is fine. We’ve only got Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts today.’ Amit handed me the parchment. ‘No Herbology?’ asked Samantha sleepily, accidentally dropping some of her porridge on Everett’s robes. ‘No, Samantha.’ said the boy irritably, sweeping off Sam’s head. ‘And anyway, what is the point of anything, when there is no Quiddich to look forward to..?’ he said with a heart-rending tone. Everybody knew how great of a Quiddich fan he was, despite flying very poorly. I sent him a sympathetic smile, thinking of something encouraging to say. ‘Oh, that reminds me. Have you seen Imelda? I wanted to see how she’s faring after yesterday’s announcement.’ said Samantha, turning her head towards the Slytherin table. At the and of the long table sat our small group of green-robed friends, with a new red-headed witch, seemingly in deep discussion. But Imelda was nowhere to be seen. ‘If you are looking for Imelda, I’ve seen her raging down the Main Hall. She seemed so out of her mind that I didn’t dare approach her.’ said Garreth with a grin as he passed our table on his way out of the Great Hall. ‘We shall meet her after class then, shan’t we Cecilia?’ ‘Ah, yes.’ I tore my eyes from the green table. How come they were such bosom friends just after a day? ‘Definitely. Shall we go now?’ ‘All right.’ said Samantha following my sight, with a strangely amused expression.

As I guessed beforehand, the new girl seemed to be good at everything. She won in the Summoner’s Court game against Natty and the duel against Sebastian. No one defeated him before in class, so you could see the sparkle of interest flaming into curiosity in his eyes as they finished the duel. ‘Not bad for a beginner. You give as good as you get.’ he said, sweeping off the dust on his robes, with a tone of surprise in his voice. But he wasn’t alone, the whole class seemed to be enchanted with her performance on her first day. As the class ended, the sunlit classroom deserted within minutes, for everyone got aware how brilliant the weather was outside of the castle, and how unpleasant muggy it was inside. ‘Shouldn’t we introduce ourselves to her?’ I asked Samantha, as we were packing our bags to leave. ‘Oh, I already did after Charms. She seems lovely, you should go too. I try to run Imelda down in the meantime. Shall we meet back in the common room?’ As I nodded and watched Samantha leave the classroom, some inexplicable nervousness ran through me. I tried to shake it off, while crossing to the window, where the new girl was standing. ‘Hello! I’m Cecilia Maple. So nice to have finally met you! You were just splendid in both classes, what is your secret?’ ‘Nice to meet you too! My name is Cordelia Vane. And thank you, but I’m afraid there is not much to it. I have a way with these things, I presume.’ she said with an affable smile. Now that I was closer to her, I could muster her features better. Her pretty face was scattered with freckles, with a cheek of the most beautiful shade of rosy, that you otherwise would only see on paintings of delicate ladies. And of course, her soft wavy locks of red hair, that muggle ladies would pay their soul to achieve unnaturally. But her eyes, that where the green of her robes, which seemed so gleamy from a great distance, were not mirroring her sweet smile, they were somehow cold. Shivering cold, piercing into me... ‘Oh I…yes, well…of course you’ve got…’ I started with a stutter, trying to look away, when Sebastian from the other side of the class called out in our direction. ‘Nice work, Cordelia. May I have a word?’ ‘Excuse me.’ she said with a faint smile and strode off towards the boy. I waved a yes in relieve, and absent-mindedly scampered out the room. It did not make sense at all, she was nothing, but proper nice and polite.

So why was I scared of her?

[despelled]

     ⇢            OLIVER    POTTER        ✶        felix    mallard    ,        21    ,        cisman    ,        he    /    him    ,        half    -    blood    ,        second    year    ,        magizoology.    member    of    aurelius    tribune    (    photographer    )    ,        competitive    potions    club    ,        herbology    club    ,        culinary    club    ,        and    care    of    magical    creatures    club.    can    be    described    as    resolute    ,        idealistic    ,        steadfast    ,        and    maverick.

*               &            ◞                     𝐢                        .                  𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒         .

　full　name　:　oliver  henry  potter 　nickname(s)　:　oli 　age　/　dob　:　twenty  one  /  dec  11  ,   2000 　zodiac　:　sagittarius 　blood　status　:　half  blood

　gender　:　cis  man 　pronouns　:　him  /  his 　sexuality　:　bisexual

　house　:　ravenclaw 　year　:　second 　specialization　:　magizoology 　extracurriculars　:　aurelius  tribune  (  photographer  )  ,  competitive  potions  ,  herbology  club  ,   care  of  magical  creatures  club  and  culinary  club 　wand　:　willow  ,  unicorn  hair  ,  10¼"  ;   fairly  bendy 　patronus　:　grey  headed  albatross

*               &            ◞                     𝐢𝐢                        .                  𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃         .

　birth　place　:　northern  region  of  west  country  ,  england 　home　region　/　school　:　southwest  /  odalric 　social　class　:　upper  class 　father　:　james  potter 　mother　:　lily  potter  née  evans 　sibling(s)　:　harry  potter  and  scarlet  potter 　pet(s)　:　a  purple  pygmy  puff  named  pretzel  is  his  only  official  pet  ,  but  he’s  more  than  befriended  all  manner  of  creatures  across  castle  grounds  and  beyond  

*               &            ◞                     𝐢𝐢𝐢                        .                  𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋         .

　face　claims　:　felix  mallard 　eye　colour　:　hazel  ,   but  more  green  than  brown 　hair　colour　/　style　:　naturally  dark  brown  ,   and  a  little  on  the  longer  side  and  windswept  on  his  best  days  ;   tends  to  get  wildly  curly  without  attention. 　height　:　185cm      /      6′1 　build　:　fit  ,  but  in  a  lanky  sorta  way.  stands  6'1  at  full  height  ,  but  has  a  tendency  to  hunch  because  he's  a  little  gremlin  like  that. 　clothing　style　:　either  jeans  and  a  t  -  shirt  with  a  hoodie  on  top  ,  or  disheveled  button  ups  tucked  into  the  waist  of  his  slacks  that  speak  of  waking  up  with  barely  minutes  to  spare.  sleeves  rolled  up  at  both  the  wrists  and  ankles  ,  mismatched  socks.  all  his  clothes  are  in  a  desperate  need  of  a  good  ironing.  lounge  wear  is  usually  a  threadbare  sweater  over  sweats  ,  and  cozy  pjs  +  a  house  robe  when  he's  truly  relaxed  at  home.  honestly  ,  between  the  styles  and  colouring  choices  ,  his  clothing  can  range  from  '  FUCK  U  IF  U  DON'T  ACCEPT  ME  '  but  also  do  not  perceive  me  at  all  times  depending  on  his  mood. 　dominant　hand　:　right  hand. 　tattoos　:　none  at  the  moment  ,   but  he’s  been  talking  for  months  about  how  much  he  wants  one. 　piercings　:　single  lobe  piercings. 　scars　:　 he's  got  a  good  smattering  of  faded  scars  here  and  there  from  the  roughhousing  and  general  up  to  no  goodness  he  got  into  as  a  kid. 　notable　features　:　a  frozen  look  of  surprise  (  as  if  he's  been  caught  with  his  hand  in  the  cookie  jar  )  ,  a  mischievous  grin  ,  eyebrows  furrowed  in  concentration.  the  entirety  of  his  face  lighting  up  in  triumph  once  he  figures  out  the  solution  to  a  problem.  too  big  eyes  paired  with  a  pouted  lip  ;   pleading  as  he  sweeps  you  up  in  his  troublemaking.

*               &            ◞                     𝐢𝐯                        .                  𝐓𝐋;𝐃𝐑         .

　　—　the  littlest  potter  has  a  glass  heart  that  he  wears  too  proudly  upon  his  sleeve.  viewing  the  world  through  a  rose  coloured  lens  ,  his  head's  up  in  the  clouds  ,  they  say  ⸻  broomless  feet  beneath  him  ever  float  ,  float  ,  floating  away.  (  a  dreamer  after  his  old  man's  heart  ,  and  just  as  lovely  in  the  eye's  of  his  mother.  )  for  where  he  may  not  have  the  lion's  heart  of  daring  ,  nerves  and  steel  ,  he  more  than  makes  up  for  it  with  a  quiet  sort  of  hunger  ;  open  minded  and  endless  in  his  search  for  more  more  more. 　　—　still  :  there's  a  silent  sort  of  fidgety - ness  to  oli  ,  a  weightlessness  to  his  bones  that  leaves  him  ready  to  take  flight  at  any  given  moment.  wanderlust  and  fantasy  filled  ,  he  only  ever  learns  to  fall  still  between  the  inhale  of  a  breath  ,  and  the  heart  fluttering  shutter - snap  of  his  camera  taking  aim.  perfection  captured  and  his  vision  shared  ,  that's  where  his  happiness  truly  crests  upon  the  shore. 　　—　but  the  acceptance  of  one's  difference  is  a  difficult  journey  (  uphill  in  its  battle  ,  and  lonely  in  its  climb  ).  oliver  learns  with  ⸻  not  grace  ,  perhaps  ,  with  a  stiff  lipped  stubbornness  that  causes  for  fracture  in  their  happy  family  home.  for  while  they  offer  nothing  but  acceptance  and  open  arms  ,  it's  him  who  can't  quite  grasp  why  he's  so  different ,  why  the  lines  are  drawn  so  clear  from  house  to  house.  a  family  of  gryffindors  and  himself  ?  a  lonely  ,  lonely  little  bird. 　　—　but  that's  what  becomes  of  idolizing  big  brothers  ,  and  chasing  the  footsteps  of  his  sister  as  well.

 　　—　eighteen  is  an  age  of  self  discovery  ,  and  exploration  of  the  person  one  ought  to  become.  so  what  is  he  :  if  not  oliver  potter  ;  son  ,  brother  ,  not  the  same  ?   　　—　his  first  few  years  at  aurelius  are  neither  kind  to  himself  ,  nor  to  those  who  love  him.  isolating  and  driving  out  ,  he  learns  to  crush  what  should  be  cherished  ,  and  falls  into  the  desperate  embrace  of  those  (  of  anyone  )  who  might  promise  rebellion  and  reform  ⸻  to  take  him  away  from  the  potter  name

.　　—　but  fractures  heal  ,  and  the  art  of  kintsukuroi  becomes  a  staple  to  his  name.  (  not  only  fixing  ,  but  repairing  with  a  bond  two - fold  in  strength.  )  so  while  he  doesn't  claim  himself  stronger for it  yet  ,  he's  collected  all  his  pieces  with  the  intention  to  recover  ,  and  has  slowly  moved  in  the  direction  of  a  better  tomorrow.

*               &            ◞                     𝐯                        .                  𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂         .

　　—　 mans  is  currently  going  through  a  bit  of  a  struggle  to  regain  his  sense  of  self  </3  his  first  year  at  aurelius  honestly  didn't  go  at  all  as  planned  ,  which  led  to  a  lot  of  acting  out  and  constant  self  -  sabotage.  prior  to  first  year  ,    he  had  believed  himself  ⸻  expected  himself  to  be  sorted  in  gryffindor  ,    through  and  through  ,    so  making  his  way  to  the  ravenclaw  commons  that  first  night  had  been  something  of  a  shock.  with  so  much  of  his  identity  tied  up  in  his  family  ,    and  the  near  hero  -  worship  of  his  own  siblings  ,    he  wasn't  truly  able  to  wrap  his  head  around  the  idea  of  being  so  blatantly  different.  he  isn’t  quite  at  the  point  of  having  ‘  sorted  himself  out  ‘  yet  ,  but  he  is  accepting  that  lashing  out  at  his  loved  ones  isn’t  the  ways  to  go  about  it  ...

　　—　oli  is  ,  at  general  observation  ,    much  more  lily  evans  leaning  ,    in  comparison  to  his  marauders  father.  not  that  he  doesn't  enjoy  his  fair  share  of  mischief  and  games  ,    don't  get  him  wrong  ,    but  he's  also  just  happy  to  focus  on  himself  and  work  on  getting  his  own  shit  done.  like  ⸻  he's  in  ravenclaw  for  a  reason  !!  (  not  that  he’s  agreeing  to  that  anytime  soon  ...  )

　　—　 not  so  much  a  stickler  for  the  rules  ,    but  happy  enough  to  go  along  with  them  when  they  go  along  with  ...  him  ?  and  while  he  might  be  on  the  quiter  /  shyer  side  at  first  glance  ,    he's  got  a  sharp  ,    sharp  tongue  that's  not  in  the  habit  of  holding  back.  it  leads  him  to  being  considered  honest  to  a  fault  more  often  than  not  ,    but  you  can  rest  assured  that  he  won't  ever  let  his  friends  walk  out  the  door  without  a  genuine  ,    if  not  entirely  too  blunt  review.  to  his  enemies  ?  just  think  barbed  wire.

　　—　 is  currently  specializing  in  magizoology  ,    but  he's  honestly  just  happy  to  be  there  to  play  with  some  magical  creatures  ,    y'know  ??  his  big  passion  is  for  photography  ,    and  with  the  creatures  being  some  of  his  favourite  subjects  ,    well.  it  honestly  wouldn't  be  too  surprising  if  he  left  to  work  for  the  wizarding  world  equivalent  of  national  geographic  ...     

*               &            ◞                     𝐯𝐢                        .                  𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃         .

　　—　𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔   :    so  growing  up  as  a  potter  kid  ,  oli’s  kinda  been  born  with  built  in  friendships  via  his  godsiblings  ,  but  pls  help  him  explore  friendships  outside  of  that  akjnew  this  could  be  anything  from  childhood  friends  who  are  still  just  as  close  to  this  day  ,  childhood  friends  who  fell  apart  ,  friends  he’s  made  throughout   his  time  at  odalric’s  or  just  at  that  age  ,  or  recent  ones  from  his  attempts  to  branch  out  after  being  sorted  into  ravenclaw

　　—　𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔   :    bc  who  doesn’t  love  enemies  ....  to  lovers  ?  to  even  bigger  enemies  ??   ...  the  world  is  our  oyster  babes <3

　　—　𝒆𝒙   :    this  could  be  a  good  or  bad  split  ,  but  imagine  how  fun  a  messy  stressy  depressy  breakup  could  be  ...   🙈🙈  could  be  thing  from  the  past  with  still  unconfronted  feelings  ,  or  a  recent  thing  they’re  still  reeling  from  ...  who  knows  who  knows  the  possibilities  are  truly  endless

　　—　𝒃𝒂𝒅  𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆    :    sorry  i  think  corruption  k*nk  is  sexy  <3  oli’s  tryna  be  the  best  little  rebel  baby  he  can  be  ,  and  he  needs  your  muses  help(s)  to  get  him  there  !

[pimpyourworld]

Harry Potter Ron Wall Clock

Looking for a spellbinding way to help your child master the art of telling time? Look no further than a captivating Harry Potter Ron Wall Clock! This enchanting timepiece isn't just a clock; it's a portal to the world of Hogwarts, where learning transforms into a thrilling adventure.

Here's why a Harry Potter Clock is the perfect choice for your little witch or wizard:

Hogwarts House Pride: Showcase your house colors! Choose a clock featuring Gryffindor's bold red and gold, Ravenclaw's wise blue and bronze, Hufflepuff's loyal yellow and black, or Slytherin's cunning green and silver.

Time-Turning Fun: With large, easy-to-read numbers and a clear design, these clocks make learning to tell time both magical and manageable.

Built to Last: Crafted from high-quality materials and featuring a silent, sweeping mechanism, these clocks are built to withstand even the most enthusiastic Quidditch commentary.

The Gift of Time: Surprise any Harry Potter fan with this bewitching birthday or holiday present!

Hogwarts-Approved Design: Each clock features captivating imagery from the beloved Harry Potter series, transporting your child straight to the wizarding world.

Product Details:

Depicts enchanting scenes from Harry Potter

Large, easy-to-read numerals for effortless time learning

Silent, sweeping mechanism for a peaceful environment

Requires one AA battery (not included)

Perfect for bedrooms, playrooms, or classrooms

Don't let telling time be a muggle chore! Order your Harry Potter Ron Clock today and watch your child's imagination soar as they embark on a time-telling adventure alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione!

[wondernimbus]

two sworn enemies pt. 2 — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: maybe being fancied by draco malfoy isn’t so bad, after all.

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

click here to read pt. 1!

"Why is it so bloody cold?"

[Y/N] is decked out in full winter apparel; a knitted Gryffindor sweater, ear-muffs, and a scarf that she has half of her face buried in.

Sitting in the Quidditch stands with the rest of her friends, she grumbles, "It's not even a Gryffindor match. We don't really have to be here freezing to death."

"Well, it's common courtesy," says Hermione, but she's just as cold as [Y/N] is; there's bits of snow stuck in her hair and the tip of her nose is pink.

Ron snorts loudly. “We’re here to watch Slytherin lose," he says matter-of-factly, still in the process of smearing streaks of blue paint across his cheek.

[Y/N] watches him, nose scrunched. "Well, aren't you the Ravenclaw fanatic."

He gives her a grin and holds out the small tub of paint. "Want some?"

She bunches up her lips in thought, then reaches out to take it. Annoyingly enough, Ron pulls back at the last moment, grinning wider than ever, and says, "Or d'you want to show support for your boyfriend Malfoy? Hermione, why don't you turn this green—"

[Y/N] dives over Hermione and Harry to smack Ron round the head, only for the pair to hold her back and push her into her seat.

Exasperated, Hermione huffs, "Honestly, Ronald, will you stop bringing that up?" She glares at him. "You know fully well [Y/N] doesn't like it."

Ron (and Harry, although he isn't as boisterous about it as the redhead), thinks that the "blond ferret" taking a fancying to her is one of, if not the most hilarious thing to have ever happened in history. Annoyingly enough, Ron has made it a habit to tease her about it every chance he gets—this one being one of them.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Ron fancied Malfoy with how much he talks about him," grins Harry. This earns him a smatter of blue paint across his face; Ron had flicked it at him.

With one last eye-roll, [Y/N] tears her gaze away from Ron and digs her nose further into her scarf. It really is very cold; snow is falling from the sky, seeping into her clothes, some landing on her hair and on her face. Thankfully there's not so much of it that the players on the pitch wouldn't be able to see around them, but still—[Y/N] imagines that it'd be a lot colder for them, having to fly around the stadium with the cold wind whipping at their robes.

There’s a buzz of loud chatter hanging in the air as conversations from all around them overlap over one another. The entire stadium is slowly filling up; students trickle into the stands, a majority of which have adorned themselves with blue accessories as a show of support to Ravenclaw. One side of the stands, however, is entirely green. Through the snow, she can see a big serpent-shaped balloon hovering over the Slytherin side.

"They’re coming out!" someone exclaims.

Sure enough, when [Y/N] looks down at the pitch, players from both teams have appeared and congregated at opposite ends of the pitch. Slytherin and Ravenclaw; whichever house wins will play Gryffindor for the house cup. Most bets are on Slytherin, but [Y/N] would have to be dead before she is caught anywhere supporting them.

"Look, it's [Y/N]'s boyfriend," gushes Ron.

More out of habit than anything, [Y/N] shoots the redhead yet another brief, scathing look. Draco Malfoy is there, even though he's nowhere near being her boyfriend, pale face set into a stoic expression of calm as he stands with the rest of his team, one hand on his broom and the other on his hip—and this specific image has her thinking back to what happened two weeks ago on this very same pitch, except the stadium was empty and it was only the two of them on the grounds; when he'd confessed to liking her.

As if Malfoy has somehow heard her thoughts over the noise of excited chatter coming from all over the stands, he looks up, eyes sweeping the seats in search for someone before finally, they land on her.

When he meets her gaze, [Y/N]'s breath isn't knocked out of her chest, nor does she start blushing madly. But she doesn't burn red with annoyance, either. All she does is stare at him, eyes narrowed, watching as his lips split into a wide grin and he raises his hand to wave at her.

She rolls her eyes, but thankfully—thankfully, the scarf tucked around her neck, reaching up to her nose, conceals the smile that tugs at her lips.

"May I ask everyone to please find themselves in their seats before the match begins," McGonagall’s voice echoes around the stadium, giving [Y/N] a reason to break eye contact.

She tears her stare away from Malfoy’s, inhaling a deep breath through her nose, feeling oddly exhilarated.

But this isn't anything new. That slight feeling of breathlessness, that unfamiliar sensation tickling at her stomach whenever she spots a certain someone in the hallway; she's been feeling it a lot lately, and though the cause seems to be pretty obvious, that is another thing she'd have to be caught dead before doing: admitting that she reciprocates some of Malfoy’s.. peculiar feelings.

"And they're off!" Dean Thomas announces. [Y/N] watches as the players soar high into the air until they're mostly level with the stands, a blur of blue and green robes rapidly zooming around the pitch. Slytherin is already in possession of the quaffle; not a surprise, considering Ravenclaw isn't exactly known for their exceptionally talented Quidditch team.

Malfoy, meanwhile—[Y/N] tells herself that the way her eyes dart around the pitch in search of a certain platinum blond is because she wants to watch the game properly and not for other reasons.

She spots him hovering somewhere above the rest of the players, face screwed up in concentration as his gaze moves around the pitch in search for the golden snitch. He looks even paler in winter, set against a backdrop of a cloudy sky and snow—

[Y/N] jars herself out of her thoughts and blinks, side-eyeing her friends (specifically Ron) to make sure they hadn't seen her.. observing the Slytherin seeker. (Not like it matters; it's not as though she fancies him, but Ron would certainly take it the wrong way.)

"Go Ravenclaw!" Ron practically screeches, waving his Ravenclaw banner in the air—when did he get that? "Kick Slytherin’s arse so Gryffindor can crush you in the finals!"

[Y/N] snorts. "Have it all thought out, don't you, Ron?"

"Go on and cheer for your Slytherin boyfriend, [Y/N], no one's stopping you," says Harry, grinning. She turns to face him, mouth open in disbelief, and lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter.

"So, Harry," [Y/N] says, suddenly deadpan. ”I see you've chosen Ron’s side."

Harry snickers, then shrugs.

"Oh, Malfoy’s seen the snitch!" someone shouts from beside them. [Y/N] turns back to the game to see Malfoy zooming down the pitch, clutching the front of his broom as he swerves past Slytherin and Ravenclaw players alike in pursuit of the tiny golden ball all the way on the other side of the stadium, where [Y/N] and her friends are sat. He has the upper hand—Ravenclaw's seeker is only just now starting to fly after him, but she's a good distance behind and Malfoy is gaining speed.

"He’s gonna catch it!"

"Ravenclaw's even worse than I thought," grumbles Ron, slumping down in his seat.

But just as Malfoy passes by them, somehow, despite the fact that he is in pursuit of the bloody golden snitch and on the brink of securing victory for his team, he slows down just the tiniest bit, and then, in true Malfoy fashion—theatric as always in his displays of affection—he catches her eye and yells “This one's for you, [Y/N]!”, a grin on his face before he hurtles down the pitch, stretching out his hand towards the fluttering snitch—

"Malfoy’s got the snitch!" Dean Thomas screams into his microphone. "Slytherin wins!"

[Y/N] stares, feeling oddly warm despite the wintry weather, as Malfoy spins around in mid-air, triumphantly holding up the snitch for the rest of Hogwarts to see.

"Blimey," gapes Ron, wide-eyed, staring not at the Slytherin seeker but at [Y/N]. "That was—"

[Y/N] looks away from Malfoy to meet Ron's gaze, maintaining indifference. "He’s quite the charmer, isn't he?" she mutters, and hopes that her friends will think that the blush on her cheeks is because of the cold and not because of something—someone else.

But that's ridiculous. It is because of the cold, isn't it?

"It may be Malfoy," says Ron slowly, shaking his head, "But you can't deny that was bloody romantic. Felt like I was watching something out of one of those Muggle films."

"Yeah, we'll have to ask him for tips," says Harry, and starts laughing when [Y/N] rolls her eyes in response.

—

Malfoy may have stopped sending her Howlers, but that hardly matters because he has found every other way to pester her.

This includes consistently yelling out her name and shouting random pick-up lines every time he spots her in the hallway, as well as sending people to do her bidding—no longer first-years, but Crabbe and Goyle, who show up at random intervals everyday presenting her with a batch of different pastries. She always sends the pair off, but only after Ron and Harry accept said pastries for themselves.

"Blimey, this is heavenly!" gushes Ron, taking a passionate bite off of his second red velvet cupcake. "You sure you don't want a bite, [Y/N]? Hermione?"

[Y/N] offers him an exasperated smile. "No, thank you, Ron."

"Don’t thank me, thank your boyfriend."

The four of them walk into the dingy Potions classroom. Snape is nowhere to be seen, but it's only a matter of time before he swoops in all bat-like, so [Y/N] and Hermione quickly take a seat at their regular desk, right next to Ron and Harry.

"Have you done your homework?" asks Hermione, pulling out an assortment of parchment from her bag.

[Y/N] hums in response. "I doubt mine is half as good as yours, but hopefully I’ll scrape an acceptable."

"Oh, you're a good student, [Y/N]. Don't bring yourself down."

"Hard not to when I’m sitting next to the brightest witch in our year," she nudges Hermione’s shoulder, smiling. Hermione huffs, rolling her eyes, but it's clear by the pleased look on her face that she doesn't hate [Y/N]'s honest flattery as much as she lets on.

[Y/N] drums her fingers on the desk to pass time, not quite paying attention to the students filtering into the classroom. Or at least not until one of them calls her name and drawls, "Is someone sitting here?"

[Y/N]'s head snaps around to see none other than Malfoy, gesturing to the desk to the left of hers and Hermione’s. "Mind if I,” he pauses, grinning, "Slytherin?"

She purses her lips into a thin, tight line, inhaling deeply as she fights to keep her cool. Yes, there are times when Malfoy's gestures have her questioning her own hatred for him, but this—this is not one of them.

"That," she says, voice mostly level. "Is your seat, Malfoy. I don’t see why you have to ask me."

Which is a lie. [Y/N] knows why, of course. To get her attention. To woo her. But part of her wishes that Malfoy would realize that everything he is doing, from the overbearing pick up lines to the cupcakes to his constant public declarations of love, isn't something that [Y/N] thoroughly enjoys. Does she want him to stop yelling at her in the hallways? Yes. Does she want Crabbe and Goyle to stop bumbling up to her everywhere she goes (outside of the girl's bathroom is one example) offering cupcakes and pie and tarts? Yes. But does she want Malfoy to stop trying entirely?

Maybe not. Maybe part of her wants to give him a chance. He does seem to truly hold feelings, judging from his confession back at the Quidditch stadium, unless he's a terribly good actor.

And it wouldn't just be him she'd be giving a chance, either. Perhaps she'd also be doing so to herself. Because, over the past month, it's baffled her how quickly her feelings for him have shifted. Or maybe it's not a change of feelings, but rather realization that under all that sneering and pureblood prejudice, Draco Malfoy is a boy.

An annoyingly attractive one.

But there is so much more that [Y/N] dislikes about him. His snootiness. His arrogance. His lack of consideration for other people's feelings. He may be tall and lithe and undeniably handsome, and he may have very soft-looking platinum blond hair and stormy grey eyes like dark clouds, but he is also a prick. And that wins over everything else, no matter how.. visually pleasing he is.

So when a paper bird flutters in front of her halfway through the lesson, when Snape’s back is turned, [Y/N] hesitates. She knows fully well who it's from, despite not having to look to the side and meet his gaze.

From beside her, Hermione whispers, "Get rid of it, before Snape sees."

Exhaling, [Y/N] snatches the paper bird and quickly unfolds it.

She doesn't know what she's expecting to see, but it's certainly not the words "meet me at the Astronomy tower after dinner" scribbled across the parchment. And with a drawing of a face blowing kisses, no less.

[Y/N] sighs.

—

[Y/N] has no real feelings for Malfoy, so succumbing to his mysterious evening request at the Astronomy tower shouldn't mean anything.

Scratch that: it doesn't mean anything. Not to her. (Or so she tells herself.) This is a chance for her to tell Malfoy to sod off and to stop courting her. And for good, this time. No matter what that annoying little voice inside her head tells her, she can't possibly even consider the idea of actually giving in to him. (And to herself.)

So she's going to put a stop to it, once and for all.

"I’m going," she decides over dinner, slamming her palms down on the table.

"Going where?" asks Harry.

"The Astronomy tower," she replies resolutely.

"What, to go star-gazing?" Ron snickers. [Y/N] glances at him and realizes, quickly, that telling them had slipped her mind—she'd been far too preoccupied with her own conflicting thoughts.

She shifts in her seat. She doesn't necessarily need to tell them, does she? It's not as though it's important enough to share. And besides, Ron would only badger her about it. Mercilessly. [Y/N] can already picture him in her head, talking about Malfoy and snogging under the stars and Merlin-knows-what-else.

"Nevermind," says [Y/N], taking a bite out of a muffin and looking away. They don't need to know; it's not as though it's important.

—

After [Y/N] has walked up all of the stairs to get there, only taking one or two shortcuts, she's out of breath, but she creeps into the Astronomy tower anyway. It’s mostly dark save for the faint moonshine filtering in from the open sides, and, well—there he is.

Malfoy’s arms are crossed over his chest, his back mostly turned as he stands dangerously close to the railing, looking out over the dark landscape. Dim light catches on the side of his face, illuminating the grey of his eyes.

The curve of his nose.

Pale skin.

White-blond hair.

[Y/N] finds herself staring, one hand on the doorframe as though for support, brows furrowed in the middle in a slight frown as she watches him.

He looks lost in thought. Even from a few feet away, [Y/N] can see the far-off, distant look in his eyes. Like storms brewing behind dark clouds, she thinks to herself. It’s a quiet little whisper in the back of her mind that has her heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest that she never knew it was capable of.

But then she blinks.

This is the last thing [Y/N] needs. To see Malfoy stripped of his arrogance—to see him as he is, bathed in moonlight, glowing, almost. To look at him and to see a boy with eyes like molten silver and nothing more—it's the last thing she needs to convince herself that she doesn't feel something for him that isn't hatred.

No, she doesn't need this.

She turns around, breath caught in her throat, and starts walking down the steps. Accidentally, stupidly, her foot catches on a metal step and a loud clang echoes around the silent tower.

[Y/N] pauses, eyes wide.

"[Y/N]?" Malfoy's voice says. He can't see her. It’s too dark, and [Y/N] is too far down the steps.

She swallows. But instead of dreading what could come, she finds herself waiting, half-hoping that he'd check the staircase, that he would see her and—

And then what?

[Y/N] rushes down the steps, ignoring the loud noise her footsteps make on the way. This is the last thing she needs.

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, and she is determined to make that clear. (Both to herself and to her friends, although the former seems to be taking a lot more convincing.)

"What is there to like about him? He’s nothing but an annoying pain in the arse who has an overwhelming amount of pride and arrogance simply because of his blood—which is not only something that he never rightfully earned but is also something that shouldn't even bloody matter, except he thinks that it does solely because he is an absolute nutter who has nothing better to do with his life other than leech off of his parents' money and shove it in other people's faces."

Ron meets Harry’s gaze from across the table, who seems to be trying very hard not to laugh. Swallowing down a forkful of pancakes, Ron looks back at [Y/N]. "I’m sorry," he begins slowly. "But remind me again why we're talking about Malfoy?"

"I’m not finished, Ronald," [Y/N] snaps, shooting him a dirty look. Ron raises his eyebrows. "As I was saying before someone so rudely cut me off, Malfoy is a nasty little git who finds joy in making other people suffer. he probably has tiny puppies locked up inside his basement just so he can laugh in their faces and revel in their misery because he is that horrible of a person—"

Harry lurches with poorly suppressed laughter.

"An absolute terrible excuse for a human being! He basks in other people's humiliation—mine, for example!—and I would much rather snog the Giant Squid than ever actually consider his—" She pauses, gritting her teeth. "Odd.. requests."

"It’s not like he's asking you to murder house-elves," Ron mutters.

"Something that I would rather do than date him!"

"[Y/N]!" Hermione gasps, looking genuinely offended as she, for the first time since they'd arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, looks up from the homework she's rushing to finish. (As if her five pieces worth of parchment aren't enough—Flitwick had only asked for three!)

"Sorry, Hermione," [Y/N] says, offering her an apologetic look that she only half-means. This quickly turns into a fierce look of challenge as she swivels back around in her seat to face the redhead sitting next to her. "Honestly, since when have you started defending Malfoy?"

Ron blanches. "I’m not defending him!" he says indignantly, setting his fork down on his plate. "It’s just.. yeah, it's a bit odd that he's declaring his undying love for you out of bloody nowhere, but he's stopped badgering us, hasn't he? Nasty little ferret hasn't said a word to Harry for weeks! And that goes for me and Hermione, too!"

[Y/N] narrows her eyes at him. "So you think it's great that he's stopped annoying you at the cost of my suffering?"

"What suffering!" Ron exclaims. "He’s been treating you like a bloody princess!"

"Oh, why don't you just snog him yourself, then, if you think so highly of him?"

Ron’s jaw drops in shocked offense.

"Alright, that's enough!" Harry announces, reaching over the table to shove the two apart from each other. "Why doesn't one of you switch seats with me before you end up strangling each other?"

"I don't know, Harry," [Y/N]'s lip curls. "I might have to hold Ron back before he goes running off to his ferret prince—or should we just let him? Merlin knows he'd love to, won't you, Ronald?"

Ron’s teeth are gritted; his eyes dart around the food on the table as though looking for the most effective weapon. He seems to be choosing between a green apple and rhubarb pie.

Thankfully, Ron never gets to take his pick. The bell rings, saving everyone in the Great Hall from witnessing what could have possibly been a brawl between friends. "Come on, let's go," says Harry quickly, relief evident in his tone of voice as he ushers the pair to their feet. "Wouldn’t want to be late for class."

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, but why does she find herself staring at him whenever she comes across him in the hallway the next day? Why, when Malfoy meets her gaze, does she look away and pretend to be immersed in something else?

And why in the bloody hell, when Malfoy playfully winks at her during Potions class, does she find it very, very hard not to smile?

She walks out of the dungeon classroom in a hurry with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, not wanting to spend a minute more in Malfoy's presence; she doesn't particularly enjoy being suddenly hyperaware of every move he makes, every little glance he sends her way when he thinks she isn't paying attention. It’s as though something in her system has gone awry. Is that why her heart feels like it's about to hop right out of her chest? Is that why she can't stop wondering what would've happened if she'd stayed at the Astronomy tower?

"Hey, wait up!” Harry calls loudly as they walk up the stone steps leading away from the dungeons and into the main hallway, which is bustling with students.

[Y/N], who had been walking far too fast in front of the three, looks back over her shoulder and sees that they're a few feet away. She stops, seemingly flustered, and waits for them to catch up.

"You look like you've wet your pants," says Ron.

"I’m not you, Ron," she retorts.

"Oh, can you two please stop bickering for once?" says Hermione, exasperated.

From behind the three, Draco Malfoy emerges from the potions classroom and begins walking up the stone steps. [Y/N]'s hands clench into fists at her side as she discretely presses her back to the stone wall at her sides.

The blond doesn't even as much as glance at Ron, Harry, and Hermione as he passes by them on the steps. [Y/N], however—once Malfoy has reached the step below the one she's standing on, he pauses, no less than two feet away from her, and quirks an eyebrow.

"What?" [Y/N] scowls, trying not to look at the strand of blond hair dangling in front of his eyes.

Malfoy’s gaze dances over her face. "Was it you?"

She meets her friends' eyes over Malfoy's shoulder. Ron and Harry have their eyebrows raised; Hermione looks concerned. [Y/N] takes a moment to compose herself—tries to force her heart back into her chest—before she folds her arms across her chest and looks at the Slytherin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"At the Astronomy tower," Malfoy says, and moves up one step so that he's standing on the same one she's on. A foot away. "I heard someone last night, while I was waiting for you."

Oh, Merlin.

"You came, didn't you?" he presses on.

"No," [Y/N] lies, and hates how defensive she sounds. She shifts a little on her feet, her eyes skirting away to look at a random spot behind Malfoy. "I was.. at the library. Doing things of actual importance."

There’s a slight pause as Malfoy's nose wrinkles. "Must’ve been someone else spying on me, then," he finally says through a scoff, but [Y/N] knows disappointment when she sees it. He rolls his shoulders back and puts on his signature smirk, inclining his head towards her as he takes another step up the stairs. "Better hurry and give me an answer, [Y/N]," he tells her, grinning. "Before one of my admirers get to me first."

[Y/N] watches as he walks up the steps and disappears into the hallway.

"The library?" a voice says incredulously. She turns back to Ron, whose face is scrunched in disbelief. "No, you weren't! We were waiting for you there and you never came."

[Y/N] folds her arms across her chest indignantly but doesn't respond, instead walking up the stone steps.

"Malfoy said he was waiting for you at the Astronomy tower," says Hermione slowly as they trail after her; [Y/N] speeds up her pace. "Is that why you mentioned going there during dinner last night?"

[Y/N] emerges into the main corridor first. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!" bursts Ron, sounding downright triumphant.

"Congratulations, Ron, you don't have the memory range of a teaspoon, after all," [Y/N] mutters, looking around. Malfoy is walking down the hallway a few feet ahead of them, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

Ron ignores her. "I bet you did go. I bet you did spy on him—" And then he gasps, looking as though he's unearthed the secret of life. "Merlin’s beard, you really do fancy him, don't you?"

[Y/N]'s footsteps falter. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stop right with her.

Hermione is the only one who doesn't look stunned out of her mind. Looking between the two boys, she rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Honestly, is that so hard to believe?" says Hermione, frowning. "I understand that it's Malfoy and he is a prick, but [Y/N] is perfectly entitled to fancy whoever she likes." She turns to [Y/N]. "It’s fine, [Y/N], you don't have to feel guilty about it. Anyone would catch feelings if someone started doing such sweet things for them, even if it were someone like Malfoy."

"Blimey," says Harry, breathless. "Which part sealed the deal, [Y/N]? The pick-up lines? Or was it the cupcakes?"

[Y/N], who had been opening and closing her mouth like a fish blown out of water, finally stops trying to find words that just aren't there and instead drags her palm across her face in frustration. "I don't.." she says, sounding defeated, but really—now that she's faced with such confrontation, it's easier to admit to herself that maybe.. maybe she does fancy Malfoy.

Ron’s lips have split into a jubilant grin. ”I called it!" he says, smacking Harry's shoulder. "Bloody knew it!"

Hermione reaches out to rub [Y/N]'s back. "Don’t feel too bad about it, [Y/N]. I sort of knew—you looked at him differently after he confessed to you on the pitch."

[Y/N] sighs, realizing that no amount  of denying it will convince her friends. Or herself.

She does fancy Malfoy.

Properly acknowledging it—finally admitting it to herself—is oddly relieving. She’s been keeping her feelings cooped up inside of her chest despite the fact they are so much bigger than her, and now that she's letting them burst free.. now that she's coming to terms with them..

Well. It’s not the worst feeling ever.

Ron is still beaming, looking as though he's won the lottery. And apparently, in a way, he has: "Fred and George said it'd take you a month longer to give in. I said it'd take you less—guess I’ve won myself two galleons!"

[Y/N]'s mouth falls open. "You bet on this?"

Ron raises his eyebrows, as though surprised to hear that she didn't know. "Uh, I and the entire bloody castle."

Struck by a sudden burst of both annoyance and confidence, [Y/N], scowling, detaches herself from her friends and strides down the hallway towards Malfoy, full of intent. He hasn't noticed her yet; his back is still turned, but she catches up to him easily. And when she does, she unceremoniously bumps her shoulder into his and grabs his hand, quickly interlacing her fingers through his.

"What the hell—"

Malfoy, obviously taken aback, tries to pull his hand away, sneering, until his gaze lands on [Y/N].

"Keep walking, Malfoy," she says scathingly, not quite looking at him.

Baffled, Malfoy stares at her, then down at their hands, which are now tightly interlocked between them. [Y/N] scowls resolutely at the hallway ahead of her.

And then Malfoy laughs, more out of disbelief than amusement.

"Keep walking," [Y/N] repeats, this time turning to look at him, fighting to keep her gaze indifferent. The last thing she wants Malfoy to know is that there is an onslaught of tiny little butterflies rampaging in her stomach and a tingly feeling spreading from their hands all the way up her spine and into her heart.

Malfoy’s lips tug up into a wide grin—a real one, [Y/N] thinks. Not an arrogant smirk or a deprecating sneer; one that she can't ever recall seeing. But now that she has, she finds herself wishing he'd do it more often.

[Y/N] tugs him along as she walks, feeling the stunned stares of her friends boring into her skull from behind. (Ron is going to have a field day about this.)

"So," Malfoy begins, and she doesn't have to look at him to know that he's still grinning down at her. "Changed your mind, haven't you?"

[Y/N] rolls her eyes; she doesn't fail to notice the way that the students they're passing by are staring at them, eyes wide, whispering to themselves. "Isn’t this what you wanted?"

Malfoy shrugs. "Among other things."

She side-eyes him, muttering, "Does that include snogging?"

He makes an amused sound at the back of his throat. "You said it, not me."

[Y/N] has to grit her teeth to stop the corners of her lips from tugging up. They turn a corner down the hallway, disappearing from both their friends' views (assuming they haven't followed them). At this thought, [Y/N] takes a brief glance over her shoulder—and sure enough, there's a redhead peeking out of a group of very confused Ravenclaws.

Cursing Ron Weasley inside her head, she turns her gaze back ahead of her. ”I have Charms class next."

Malfoy raises his brows. "And what do you expect me to do with that information?"

"Walk me there," says [Y/N] briskly.

She can practically feel the surprise radiating off of the blond next to her. A moment later, he throws his head back in a loud laugh. "And you want me to be late to Transfiguration? It’s all the way on the other side of the castle."

[Y/N] hums. "Can’t even do that for the girl you fancy?"

There’s a beat of silence. His grip on her hand falters a little as he says, voice still nonchalant and yet at the same time holding an undeniable sense of sincerity, "I could if I knew she wasn't leading me on."

"She isn't," [Y/N] says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Malfoy is staring at her with his brows pulled in together just slightly at the middle, giving off the impression that he's trying to decide whether or not she's being serious. He slows down his pace until he comes to a full stop, urging [Y/N] to halt alongside him until they're standing in the middle of the hallway, oblivious to the stares following them and the redhead a mere few feet away.

"How do I know this isn't a prank?" says Malfoy, lip slowly curling as he narrows his eyes at her, the first few traces of suspicion etching itself onto his face now that the whole ridiculousness of the situation has finally sunken in. [Y/N] can't blame him; her antics—suddenly marching up to him in the hallway, grabbing his hand and walking with him as though they've been doing it for years—all of it is uncalled for after having ruthlessly turned him down so many times before. But [Y/N] can't delve into a discussion of her conflicting emotions—at least not right now—so she hopes, at least for now, that he will take her word for it.

She clears her throat.  "Well," she begins, looking down at their hands; Malfoy’s grip has gone slack. "If I wanted to hold your hand, I’d do it because I wanted to. Not because I wanted to get a rise out of you." She lets her gaze go back up to his, brows rising in familiar challenge. "I don't stoop that low, Malfoy. You’ve been in love with me for years—shouldn't you know that by now?"

There are a few seconds in which the blond standing before her still looks at her with a scrutinizing gaze, lips set into a thin, hard line and his eyes swimming with conflict that [Y/N] wouldn't have been able to see from afar, but sees in perfect clarity now that she's standing a mere foot away from him. But then, after what feels like ages, Malfoy nods, slowly, frown smoothing out into an expression of—could that be relief?

"I will be late for Transfiguration, you know," he says, lips quirking up into a grin.

[Y/N] laughs. (A real one, Draco thinks to himself.) This time she doesn't try to stop herself from smiling; just lets her lips do so of their own accord. It feels nice. Freeing. "Better just one of us than two, don't you think?" she says, mirroring his playful grin. "And besides, Goyle can stand in for you. You two do have quite the resemblance."

"Oh, sod off."

And it really is very odd, because everything about this shouldn't feel right; they've been enemies for the longest time, and a year ago, [Y/N] would have been revolted at the mere idea of ever coming close to Draco Malfoy—but it does. That is, it feels right. Like they've been this way for ages and this playful, harmless banter is the most natural thing.

Draco isn't perfect—Merlin, does he have a long way to go—but if he means to stop being a prat as long as [Y/N] is at his side, then she is willing to venture into whatever has formed between them.

And if this little bond is going to involve any more of this—this being her and Draco exaggeratedly swinging their arms between them as he walks her to Charms class with their fingers still intertwined, snickering, waiting for one of them to start complaining about their arm sockets hurting—then maybe it isn't the worst thing ever, after all.

[pinkandblueblurbs]

Ahhh ok thank you. So lately I've been reading a lot of marauders era sirius black, so I would like to request sirius x reader (ravenclaw if possible) shes shy and just a typical ravenclaw ,very kind but also quite insecure. her and sirius have been dating for a while. Shes nervous to sleep with him for the first time because shes a virgin and she doesnt think looks wise she can compare to the girls hes been with before. So maybe he confessing this to him after he asks why ( not pressuring her just wondering) and including their first time.

thank you for the request babe!! It isn’t super specified that she’s a ravenclaw, but i think i included just about everything else ;)

a/n: this may be cringe lol idk intimacy is hard

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader. Insecurity, comfort, discussion of feelings, love, loss of virginity, tender sex. Blink and you’ll miss it bi sirius bc why not :). Reference to drugs and addiction for description (ie not real drug use, just a metaphor)

As you lay in Sirius’s bed, the boy’s arms wrapped around you from behind in a spooning position, the dorm vacant aside from your snuggled forms, anxieties swirl through your mind like storm clouds.

You don’t realize how obvious it is- how much you’re shifting uncomfortably against Sirius, the soft sighs you let out as you’re deep in thought- until your boyfriend speaks up.

“What’s the matter, pup?” He murmurs softly, warm breath blowing over your scalp as he speaks.

“Nothing, Siri.” You respond as convincingly as you can. Unfortunately, the boy knows you far too well to accept such an answer.

“You can be honest with me, darling.” He gently prods, hand coming up to your shoulder to push downwards, coaxing you to flip onto your back so he can look down at your face from where his head is propped up on one elbow. As you look into his kind, grey eyes, you feel immediately more relaxed. You realize how much you trust him- that you can be honest with him- so you decide to open up.

“I just... I’m nervous about sleeping with you, Siri.” You confess, eyes flitting up to the boy’s anxiously, gauging his reaction.

His gaze remains gentle and calm as he responds “why, doll? Tell me about it- maybe I can help.”

“Well.... I’m a virgin, Siri” you confess in a whisper “a-and you’ve got so much experience, with so many pretty girls....” you trail off, not sure what more to say, the self pitying words that flood your mind sounding far too pathetic to utter aloud. You can’t meet Sirius’s eyes- terrified that you may find judgement, shock, disgust replacing the kindness in them.

“Puppy” Sirius murmurs, and to your surprise, the word isn’t condescending or mocking, it’s entirely genuine and sympathetic. “You know I love you, don’t you? That I adore you? That you make my world spin? Darling, you being a virgin doesn’t change that. Nor does my previous experience with other people- they don’t even compare to you, my love.”

Despite how the words make your heart swell with love, doubt swarms your mind with equal ferocity.

“Sirius, you’re very kind, but that can’t be true. I’ve got nothing on them- I’ve heard about who you’ve been with, and they’re perfect. A-and that’s what you deserve- that isn’t me.” Your voice breaks slightly, stinging tears brimming your eyes as you let out the anxieties and self deprecation that’ve been residing inside you for as long as you can remember. Your boyfriend’s heart nearly shatters at the words.

“Y/n- look at me” at the prompt you shift your gaze to him, relieved to find his eyes just as gentle as before, though there’s a new sadness in them now. “You are perfect. You’re perfect to me. I think every single thing about you is beautiful.” His slender fingers trail over your cheeks as he speaks, rough calluses providing unconventional comfort as they sweep over your soft skin. “I’m in love with you, darling. And I’ve never been in love with anyone else.”

The words make you smile, your self doubt slowly dissipating as Sirius’s genuine assurance replaces it.

“Really? You mean that?” You murmur, finding the words more than a bit difficult to believe.

“Of course I do.” He responds, voice hard with surety. “And if it’s any consolation, pup, I’m quite excited to have sex with you. Should the time come that you want to do it.” He quips with a crooked grin, though there’s truth behind his words.

“I want to.” You blurt out quickly, the admittance somewhat of a surprise to even you. Your boyfriend, however, is totally taken aback.

“What?” He asks, thrown off by your sudden 360. “You do? You’re sure?” Disbelief is evident in his tone- but along with it is an unmistakable hopefulness. You smile at him.

“I do.” You assure veritably. “I’ve wanted to for a while- I’ve just been nervous. But after what you said, I’m not anymore.” Your voice has dropped to a bashful whisper now as you reach out, cupping the elegant jaw of Sirius’s face and thumbing over his cheek in a mirroring of his movements.

His lips curl up in a soft smile before he leans forward and connects his gentle grin to your lips in a kiss. Butterflies swarm your belly as his intoxicating flavor and skilled tongue overwhelm your senses. The kiss is tender yet passionate, steady yet rushed, calming yet intense and your head swims and your heart soars and all that matters in this moment is Sirius.

The boy shifts so he’s above you, braced on his forearms on either side of your head as he kisses you, his slender yet firm body pressed against yours. To your joy, the anticipation swirling in your head leans more on the side of excitement than nerves at the prospect of what’s to come.

Arousal pulses in your center at Sirius’s proximity and the passion of the kiss he envelops you in, and beyond your control your hips roll upwards, instinctually seeking out friction to ease the pressure on your swollen clit. A gasp spills from you as pleasure blooms within you at the movement. Sirius’s grin broadens against your lips before he pulls away.

“That feel good, baby?” He murmurs, voice somehow sweet despite the subtle hint of teasing present in it. You nod.

“Want more? Do you want me to touch you?” Sirius inquires, wanting confirmation that you’re ready and comfortable every step of the way. You nod once again.

“Yes, please, Sirius.” You whisper, breathless both from nerves and the oxygen robbing kiss.

“Then why don’t we get undressed, yeah? ‘S that alright?” He proposes, kind grey eyes trained on yours patiently as he awaits a response.

“Yes, that’s alright. I’m ready.” You assure, eager fingers already reaching out to grasp the hem of Sirius’s t-shirt. The boy chuckles softly at your impatience, sitting up on his knees so he can pull off his shirt. You’re momentarily distracted as his attractive form is revealed to you- the angled edges of his toned torso, the subtle creases of his abs and pecs- far from bulky but lean and elegantly slender.

“You’re so beautiful, Siri” you breathe out, awed. He smirks.

“Yeah? You’re not half bad yourself, pretty girl.” He teases, shooting you a wink, which you return with a roll of your eyes. He laughs.

“I’m kidding, doll, you’re gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. Now c’mon, let me see you.” He murmurs as he works off his pants. Heat rises to your cheeks but you comply regardless, tugging upwards on the hem of your shirt, lifting your torso up off the mattress enough to remove the garment from your figure. You’re braless- because why would you wear a bra to cuddle with your boyfriend- and Sirius’s eyes bug out when they’re met with your bare breasts. You give a bashful giggle.

“Bloody hell, pup, look at you.” Sirius intones, hands coming down to lightly trail over the soft skin of your breasts, thumbs ghosting over your nipples, the buds pebbling at the touch. You moan softly as bursts of electric pleasure shoot through you. “Perfect.” Sirius utters, the word hardly more than a whispered breath.

Then his hands trail lower, fingers teasing over the waistband of your sweatpants and panties, and he looks up at you in a silent request for permission. You nod, and at that he pulls downwards, the material of your pants and underwear gliding down your hips, then your legs, Sirius’s eyes trained at the thatch of curls that resides at the apex of your thighs. You bend your legs to allow him to remove both garments fully, and he tosses the clothes aside, them landing discarded on the floor with a barely there thud.

You’re amazed you don’t feel uncomfortable under Sirius’s intense gaze- you’re sure you would if anyone else were to look at you with such focused hunger. But along with that hunger is adoration, and love, and awe, and it makes your heart feel so full that there’s no room left for anxieties to fester.

“You’re stunning, doll.” He breathes out, hands coming down to pull at the waistband of his own sweats and boxer briefs, removing them with a rushed haste that exposes his eagerness. When his member is exposed to you, hard and rouged scarlet, your eyes widen and arousal pulses in your core.

“You’re... wow....” is all you can manage to say, awed by the sight of him nude. He gives you a crooked grin.

“How articulate, pup. Speechless and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He quips teasingly, making your cheeks burn intensely.

“Oh shut up, Siri.” You grumble, reaching up to grab the boy from behind his neck, pulling him down into a silencing kiss.

His lips are warm and his flavor is familiar and his tongue is confident as he kisses you, his lips slotting in with yours perfectly as if they were made to connect. The butterflies are back in your belly, your heart is pounding, and you desperately want more.

“Please” you gasp out, the boy swallowing the word as you spill it into his lips from your own. He keeps kissing you as his hands begin to explore your body. Faintly rough palms smooth over the skin of your sides and up to your breasts where his fingers play idly with the peaks of your nipples. Soft, breathy whimpers are transferred from your mouth to his as acute pleasure courses through your veins like drugs and your brain screams Sirius’s name like he’s an addiction.

“Please” you repeat once more, because although his taste is on your tongue and his hands caress your skin and his body is pressed flush to yours it isn’t enough, and you desperately crave to have him inside you.

“Alright, my love.” He murmurs, voice raspy and words whispered, the epitome of sensuality. One hand trails down your body to grasp his shaft, lining up with your wet entrance. He’s still close enough that his warm breath cascades over your lips as he speaks.

“This should only hurt for a moment.” He whispers before pushing forward slowly. A gasp leaves your lips as his head enters you, stretching your walls in a way entirely unfamiliar to you. As he slowly inches forward the stretch becomes more intense, and the odd feeling grows into a subtle pain that has you whimpering. Sirius coos above you, leaning down to litter soothing kisses on the expanse of your cheeks.

The hand that had helped his cock into position now moves to rub circles on your swollen clit, and the pure pleasure that bursts along your nerves with the action has any pain dissipating, allowing the boy to push forward all the way.

Once he’s nestled within you completely he halts all movement save for the gentle kissing of his lips on your heated cheeks. He allows you to adjust to the feeling- the feeling of fullness and warmth and pleasure and completion that marks the union of your bodies.

“I’m ready” you murmur once any physical pain or mental trepidation has subsided, your body buzzing with the desire for him to move, for him to bring you to the lofty heights of pleasure.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, and as he reconnects his lips to yours he raises his hips, pulling his cock out of your constricting channel until only the head remains inside you before pushing back in. He hungrily devours the lewd noises that spill from your lips as your sensitive walls feel every ridge of his shaft, the sensation nearly overwhelmingly pleasurable.

He thrusts in and out of you slowly, the action gentle and tender as his hands resume their exploration of your now perspiring skin. You shiver under his touch-his fingertips on your breasts, kneading softly, his nails on the outsides of your thighs, drawing barely there paths up and down and leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. His low grunts and soft gasps mingle with your high whines and breathy whimpers, creating an erotic symphony along with the gentle percussion of skin on skin.

Finally a hand finds your clit once more, rubbing circles and figure eights on the bundle of nerves and electrifying your senses. You feel yourself climbing, your core tightening, your stomach fluttering with the feeling one gets at the crest of a rollercoaster, just before the drop.

Then you’re falling, the feeling indescribable as you tighten around Sirius’s shaft. Your heart and cunt are full, your head empty, as blissful pleasure overtakes you and has you moaning into Sirius’s slackened mouth. He’s still thrusting steadily, chasing his own high and working you through your rapture in the process.

He soon meets his end as your walls flutter around him with the fading of your orgasm, and he spills into you with a low grunt, his hips stilling to keep his cock nestled deep within your channel as he cums. Your hands come up to grip his shoulders at the unfamiliar, erotic sensation of his seed painting your inner walls, his broad firmness serving as a grounding comfort.

Then he falls limp atop you, forming a messy pile of balmy skin and intertwined limbs, motionless save for the heaving of your chests as your bodies struggle to supply oxygen to your overworked cells.

“I love you” are the first words to leave his lips, still moist with a mixture of his saliva and yours. Before you can respond he’s peppering fleeting kisses over your forehead, your cheekbones, your nose, your jaw, every inch of skin he can reach. A mantra of “I love you”s accompany the tender kisses, the words breathed out in a rush between each and every one.

“I love you too.” You respond when he finally ceases, resting his forehead against yours and staring deeply into your eyes. His pupils are still blown in post-coital inebriation, black eclipsing the gray of his irises. You tilt your chin up to grant him a single, lingering kiss, repaying him for the smattering he’d graced your face with.

In the aftermath of sex, with Sirius’s lips on yours and your lethargic bodies so close one is indiscernible from the other, your earlier anxieties are nothing more than a distant memory.

taglist: @whizzbeesdukes @snapesdaughsjm @kyleed24 @woman-with-no-name @barneswidow @randomoutsiders @fandom-puff @spxllcxstxr @frecklesandfirecrackers @layaaaa @wholebigboxofyikes @fific7 @love-peachh @pandaxnienke @weasleyposts @sw33tgirl @amourtentiaa @emmaev

[scullymurphy]

Falling Dark Chapter 26 is Live!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31444262/chapters/96394698

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13886657/26/Falling-Dark

Hermione looked up into the periwinkle blue dome overhead and smiled. The idea that she could just launch into the sky was so freeing; learning to fly was definitely one of the best things she'd done this year. Slinging a leg over her broom, a sturdy one with a notched handle that she favoured, she lifted up, noting the subtle change in the temperature as she rose. Muttering a quick warming charm and extracting a wool hat from her knapsack, she cruised through the Quidditch pitch, avoiding a group who appeared to be doing drills and a couple of people tossing a quaffle back and forth.

She was in the mood for a brisk clip tonight. Maybe a skim over the Black Lake, a circle around the Forbidden Forest, and a quick stop in the meadow next to Hagrid's hut to practise her elevation changes, which still needed work.

Hermione nodded, happy with this plan, and pointed her broom out of the pitch between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw stands. She shot through into the open air, and was heading west toward the now truly gorgeous setting sun, when she saw him. Sitting right in her flight path.

Bugger.

He was still and hovering in space, perched on his broom in that graceful way he had. The green sweep of his old Slytherin Quidditch cape hung down behind him and his white trouser-clad legs were crossed casually at his booted ankles. He was looking down at something in his hands and the light was catching his hair.

Hermione's fingers tightened on her broom handle and she gave a long-suffering sigh.

Maybe she should turn around and fly in the opposite direction before he saw her.

But of course she didn't; he was wholly captivating. Magnetic, even. She was actually floating closer to him even as she vacillated.

And she wanted to see what he was reading.

Because he was reading something, she could see that as she got closer—concentrating quite keenly on it, in fact. He kept looking at it then out over the rise toward the great glen. Until, with a quick movement, he tucked it under his arm and rose steeply (he didn't have any bloody trouble with elevation changes), shading his eyes to look further into the distance. Then just as suddenly he dropped, falling over his left shoulder into a showy reverse dive. Ginny probably would have snorted at it if she were here, but it made Hermione's heart leap into her throat.

She gave an involuntary cry, more of a gasp, but Draco heard it and pulled up short, wheeling around in a swirl of green and white to face her, a half-smile replacing the annoyed surprise on his face.

"How do you do that?" Hermione surged forward, stopping quite close to him.

He tilted his head.

"That dive," she said, flipping her hand over in a facsimile of his earlier movement. "It's rather terrifying."

"Is it?"

"Yes! I'd like to try it."

His smile turned into a low laugh. "Of course you would."

"What does that mean?"

"Just that you're very brave."

"Hmph." She narrowed her eyes.

"It's what your House is known for, isn't it?" He lifted a brow, but his lips were twitching. "Although if you'd been just a degree colder…"

"Draco! Malfoy! It's unsporting to bring up things I said when I was drunk." Hermione tried to look fierce, but started laughing too.

"You're right, it is." He bowed slightly over his broom. "I apologise. Would you like me to teach you to dive as payment for my transgression? "

"Yes." Hermione said stoutly, ignoring several voices in her head that were telling her this activity might not be good for cooling her ardor. "I want to learn, but Ginny won't show me." Actually, what Ginny had said just yesterday when they were talking about this very subject was, "Get Draco to teach you." Then she'd wiggled her eyebrows and refused to elaborate. So Hermione had no actual idea what she was getting into.

Draco laughed again. "OK, but I think we should start with something more basic than a reverse 180 deadfall." He started coasting downward. "Come on!"

"We start from the ground?" Hermione was puzzled, but followed him.

He looked up at her and his eyes were very light. "Oh. Well. The only way to learn to dive is on one broom. Two of us on one broom."

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

Previously: Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro. Tsukkishima Kei.  Bokuto Koutaro

Masterlist link

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Sakusa / Reader

Summary: You’re invited to Kiyoko’s seventeenth birthday party, which turns out to be a ball for the glittering elite of the magical world, where you meet one very surly, very sulky Sakusa Kiyoomi.

A/N: Comments as always, are much welcomed. Feel free to shout at me anytime!

Requests closed for the time being!

Though if you toss a suggestion my way that I like, I may...reconsider ;)

Requested by Yeon baobei @moondaius​ I hope you like it, darling <3

-------------------------------------------

You feel out of place in this party filled with the glittering elite of magical society. Your sleeves do not quite reach down to your wrists, and the ruffles on the neckline of your dress robes are a little limp, but you’ve had to make do with the rejected pile of clothes from your more affluent cousins. It’s not often you get invited to formal dinner parties anyway. Your home is a tiny attic flat on the cross junction between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, and your mother is just a humble cleaning lady, so this soiree is just an exception - your classmate Kiyoko being exceptionally kind and inviting you to her seventeenth birthday party. 

“Look! Isn’t that Sakusa Kiyoomi? Isn’t he handsome?” You can hear the girls around you sigh dreamily to their friends as said boy enters the ballroom with his cousin Komori in tow. 

The Ravenclaw seeker elicits this sort of reaction even in school - or especially in school, but you’ve never joined his legion of fans, his overall grumpiness acting as a deterrent to you ever speaking to him despite sharing multiple classes together. Still, he is handsome, you admit to yourself. Towering over most of the party guests, Sakusa Kiyoomi has artfully tousled black curls, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and the most adorable pair of moles above his right eyebrow. 

“Komori!” You wave, grinning with affection as the affable Ravenclaw keeper bounds over towards you like an overgrown puppy. 

“It’s so nice to see you here!” He greets you with his usual cheer. “These parties can be a drag if you don’t know anyone.”

“It is a little overwhelming”, you admit, side-eyeing the chandeliers hanging from the arched ceiling, dripping in crystals and wrought with gold. You’re sure that if you managed to sneak just one chandelier in your pocket, it’d be enough to feed you and your mother for an entire year. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have fun tonight!” Komori promises with a chuckle. Then he snaps his head back, realising he’s left his cousin stranded in a crowd of fawning women - a fate that Sakusa Kiyoomi obviously deems worse than death judging from the way he glowers down at his shoes as if they’ve offended him in some way. 

“You better rescue him”, you add, internally amused as Yuna-san from Slytherin slides her talons up Sakusa’s arms. “Five minutes in, and he already seems like a damsel in distress.”

Komori answers you with a lopsided grin as he swims through the crowd to reach his cousin drowning in his worst nightmare. You snort to yourself, helping yourself to a generous amount of punch, watching as Komori manages to extract Sakusa while charming the ladies into not sulking too much at the loss of their prey. Sakusa promptly disappears once he’s free from the quicksand of social interaction, while Komori himself gets claimed for the first dance of the night. 

You have fun too - well, somewhat. You stand along the sides of the ballroom like an overgrown wallflower, watching as your peers in brightly coloured dresses get asked for dances while you’re passed over with a glance at your ill-fitting dress. But Komori does swing by and dances a foxtrot with you - both of you trip over the other at one point, causing a small commotion in the corner of the ballroom, but it’s all in good fun. Even Kiyoko takes the time to pop by and say hi, even though she’s swamped with well-wishers and familial obligations.  

You don’t regret coming to the party at all. 

“Omi, be social for once.” It’s only because your ears are sharp that you overhear Komori urge his cousin out from his hiding spot behind the dessert table. “You’ve been hiding from everyone the entire night, and you haven’t even danced once!” 

“I don’t like people.” Sakusa grounds out through clenched teeth. “And I don’t dance”. 

“Don’t be a grump. There are perfectly nice people here - look, I have a friend here who’d be perfect for a dance”. 

You look up, meeting his eyes as he grins apologetically at you. You’re about to mouth ‘hell no’ at the irrepressible Komori, but Sakusa beats you to it in his characteristically blunt fashion. 

“She’s tolerable enough I suppose, but I’m not inclined to be a knight in shining armour and dance with someone just because no one else will”. 

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. 

Komori looks like he’s about to push Sakusa into the birthday cake, but thinks the better of it. “Omi”, he hisses in warning. 

Sakusa glances up, guilt flooding his eyes when he meets your gaze, but you don’t give him a chance to redeem himself, flouncing away in a swirl of faded satin. You brazenly seek out dance partners for yourself - Kuroo from Slytherin might seem smarmy, but he smirks at you in recognition and twirls you around in a merry square dance and Akaashi from Ravenclaw looks like he’d much rather bury his nose in a book but he’s gentlemanly enough to let you take his hand for a stately waltz. 

You’re in the middle of another waltz, this time with sunny Bokuto from Hufflepuff when you spot Sakusa squirming from the corner of your eye. Yuna (Slytherin, seventh year, pureblooded of course) has him cornered, back against the wall, and there’s no Komori in sight to save him – nor anyone really, almost everyone else is enjoying themselves on the dance floor. 

You sigh inwardly. Sakusa might be cold and cranky but even he deserves to be rescued from Yuna’s clutches, so you maneuver Bokuto towards in their direction. Bokuto, to his credit, catches on immediately, and with a spark of mischief in his eyes, he grabs a glass of punch and tips it over both Sakusa and Yuna. 

“You idiot!?!” Yuna shrieks, horrified as the bright red liquid stains the front of her robes. “These robes were specially tailored for me in Paris you know?”

You didn’t know that, and frankly – you couldn’t care less about the cost of her fancy robes, and with a murmured – I’ll help Sakusa clean up, you grab said boy by his sleeve and manhandle him out of the ballroom. Thankfully she’s so distracted that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that you’re both seventh years now, so there’s really no need for you to rush to the washroom since it’s completely legal for you to be using magic to clean Sakusa up. You leave Bokuto in your wake to deal with an irate Yuna, but he’s grinning nonetheless, telling her that his cleaning charms are awesome, does she want him to try fixing her dress? Akaashi and Kuroo join the commotion, and in the diversion they cause, no one notices your escape.

You tug him down a deserted hallway, relinquishing your grip on him only when you find an appropriate hiding place – an open air balcony, where no one is likely to stumble on you. ‘Turgeo’, you whisper, whipping out your wand, nodding in satisfaction as the charm siphons punch off Sakusa’s robes. 

“You can catch your breath here for a bit”, you tell him, hopping up to take a precarious seat on the balcony railing. His brows pinch together, and you watch, bemused as he tries to make sense of what just transpired.

“Tha-“ 

Taking pity on him, you interrupt him. “You don’t have to thank me. I came to your rescue cos you’re tolerable, even though you’re always grumpy. Plus, I’m a Gryffindor, so being a knight in shining armour comes naturally to me”. 

Your amusement grows as he splutters at having his ill mannered words quoted back at him, embarrassment burning into his cheeks. It’s fun to throw calm, collected Sakusa Kiyoomi off balance sometimes, you think – and perhaps given his privileged, pureblood background, he probably needs it every once in a while. But then you’re surprised when he gathers himself and inclines his head ever so slightly. 

“That was…inexcusable of me to speak of you that way. I apologise.” 

 “It’s fine”, you reply easily, but he doesn’t allow you to shrug his apology off. 

“It’s not. I was rude and unkind.” 

This is the most you’ve ever heard Sakusa Kiyoomi say, and you want to capitalise on it. 

“I know how you can remedy that”, you interject with a smile. 

He quirks his eyebrows in confusion, watching you warily. You’re tempted to drag out the suspense to watch him squirm, but you don’t want to torture the poor boy any further. 

“You can pay me back by giving me the dance you so cruelly refused me”, you tell him, jumping down onto your feet. Then with the most unladylike laugh, you sweep into an exaggerated bow, holding your hand out to him - 

“My good sir, if you please?” 

He stares down at your proffered hand. “Here? Now?” 

“You have another time in mind?” You ask sarcastically, back still bent in a bow. “Come on, your mother probably brought you up better than this, don’t keep a girl waiting forever.”

“Fine, fine”, he mumbles. So as the string orchestra in the ballroom strikes up another tune yet again, he takes your hand, and wrapping his arm around your waist, he leads you in a waltz. 

Step step twirl. 

One two three. 

Step step twirl. 

He’s the ideal dance partner, expertly steering you through the one-two-three of the melody, never once making a misstep – though he does wince when you tread on his toes once too many times. 

“You’re surprisingly good at dancing, for a misanthrope”, you comment.

“My mother made me learn”, he replies, ignoring the hidden barb in your remark. “It’s a waste of time, but I guess now that I keep getting invites for balls, it’s useful knowledge so I don’t make a fool of myself when I get forced to dance.”

“Like now?” You chuckle self-deprecatingly. 

He doesn’t reply for a few beats and you assume the conversation is over when he replies – 

“Not like now. It - this is nice.” 

It’s summer, and while the cool night still nips at your skin, warmth inexplicably suffuses your cheeks. You thought you were just having a laugh, it’s only now that you realise that the situation you’ve put yourself in with Sakusa is practically lifted out of a fairytale – a boy and a girl, hiding in a balcony, waltzing under the stars? The only thing missing is maybe a shooting star falling from the skies, or a lost glass slipper or two. 

Your train of thought is interrupted when the song ends, and he surprises you yet again when he does not drop your hand. 

“Would my lady wish to dance with me again”, he asks, though there’s a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes that belies his formal tone. 

You ignore every fiber of your being screaming at you that dancing with him again is going to be terrible for your heart, dropping into a low curtsy. 

“Why, I thought you’d never ask”, you simper in a poor imitation of Yuna and her toadies, and he only snorts, sweeping you into his arms, intent on dancing the night away. 

----------------------------------------------

“The two of you have been gone the entire night”, Komori comments, a faint accusatory tone colouring his words. “I was about to organise a search party.”

“I was just helping Sakusa clean up after a mishap with a glass of punch”, you reply, though your lie is punctured by the wince you give when your shoes pinch your feet – a sign that you’ve danced far, far too much on this magical night. 

“Is that so?” Komori directs his question to his stoic cousin. 

Sakusa doesn’t even bother to reply, palm warm against the small of your back as he ushers you off to his flying carriage, intent on sending you safely home. 

Your mother’s jaw drops when she wakes up to Sakusa’s carriage thunder down your street, a fleet of winged white horses dragging an enchanted golden carriage. You feel like Cinderella as he escorts you to the front door, pressing a courtly kiss to the back of your hand when he wishes you goodnight. That is, if Cinderella snagged her Prince Charming on the first night they met -  by accident, no less. 

Your jaw drops when you wake up the next morning to a delivery from an imperial looking snow owl, and when you tear open the parcel, your hands shake so much you have to sit down. That ridiculous boy sent you dress robes of pearl white tulle, along with an invitation to his seventeenth birthday party, to be held in two weeks. 

And the most staggering of all – the parcel also includes your dance card, Sakusa’s name neatly written in it to claim ayour dances for the night. 

Every single dance of the night. 

“Impertinent fellow”, you mutter to yourself, though you can’t help but fall back onto your bed, giggling like a loon. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi is an enigma, a boy shielding his true self from the world by cocooning himself in layers of unfriendliness and grumpiness. But in the short amount of time you’ve spent with him, you’ve discovered that he isn’t as cold or unfeeling as he makes himself out to be. You unearthed his sharp sense of humour when he started dropping barbs about preening party guests, telling you the dirty secrets of each pureblooded family gathered here tonight. 

“She did what?” you gasped. “No way.”

‘Believe it”, he smirked. “She later tried marrying her daughter off to me, but my parents refused”. 

And over the course of the night, you start to see shades of his softer side. He surprised you when he apologised over and over again for not dancing with you the first time, saying he hadn’t realised that you were being overlooked because almost everyone in attendance were snobs. 

“It’s the dress”, you told him cheekily, tugging at the cheap fabric. “Otherwise everyone around here would be falling for my sparkling personality”. 

He couldn’t help but snort at that. 

Then he started to tell you about himself. You learn that he wants to go pro not because he has a burning passion for Quidditch, but rather because it’s something he’s put so much effort into that he might as well continue doing it into adulthood. You learn that despite his complaints about the Ravenclaw team - seemingly sweet Suga and the troublesome beaters Makki and Mattsun in particular driving him insane with their relentless ribbing and puns and jokes, he’s grown fond of them. 

He’s funny and witty and sentimental and smart. You truly enjoyed his company last night. 

You can’t wait to see him again. 

Neither can Sakusa, so it seems. He’s on your doorstep before noon, a bouquet of roses and a bashful expression on his face. 

“A gentleman caller”, you pretend to swoon as you open the door. “Happy day!” 

“I hope I’m the only one”, he retorts, all shyness evaporating immediately, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. 

“So far you are”, you tease, nose buried in rosebuds. “Fair warning before you sweep me off my feet though - I’m not going to be one of your typical, pureblooded heiresses who’ll titter at every word you say, just cos you’re Sakusa Kiyoomi”. 

He actually chuckles at that. “I’m counting on that”, he says, taking your hand. 

You both share a shy smile.  

[blitheringmcgonagall]

Congrats!! Prompt: Lily + green + bittersweet

@elizabeth-dicewielder i hope you like this!!

“Congrats, Potter!”

“Well done, Captain!”

“Excellent match, James, you deserved the win!”

“Gryffindor for the win! Prongs, you wonderful, fucking talented bastard!”

Lily snorted to herself as she watched Sirius Black shove aside the groupie that had been hounding his friend since he had entered the Gryffindor Common Room. He smacked James Potter on the back and the two boys embrace enthusiastically.

“You were on the team too, you idiot!” James laughed.

“You won the game for us!” Sirius Beamed back. “Here, have some firewhisky, you deserve it.”

He shoved a bottle of the amber liquid at Potter, who grinned and raised it, clinking Sirius’s glass.

“Cheers! Here’s to beating those Ravenclaws!”

Lily let her eyes linger on the Captain’s muscular forearms, on his athletic shoulders, which looked ready to burst through his skin-tight quidditch uniform, the way it hugged the outline of his pecs and abdominal muscles, his muscular calves, his-

“Lily, you’re staring.”

Mary MacDonald’s voice sounded amused. Even now Lily was reluctant to tear her eyes away.

“Very obviously staring. You seem very, er, thirsty. Shall we get you a drink?”

Mary was outright laughing at her. Lily’s sharp elbow dug into her annoying friend’s side and Mary yelped in surprise.

“I’ll get it myself, you muppet!” Lily said, trying to keep her expression neutral even as she felt herself turning red.

“You’re very pretty when you blush, Evans.”

She turned around, heat rising, and gave Sirius Black a condescending glance, before downing an entire glass of firewhisky in one go. The golden liquid made her throat burn, her eyes sting. She didn’t splutter or cough once. She watched Sirius’ gaze, impressed, his expression softening a bit.

“Fuck off,” she said, when she could speak.

“Don’t you like being complimented?” he said with a smirk.

“Not particularly,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes good naturedly. “Would you like it if I said you were looking pretty?”

He made a face.

“Not particularly,” he said, laughing.

She laughed too, twisting the glass in her hand.

“You do look well, Evans,” the dark haired boy said. “Trying to impress anyone?”

She had worn a muggle outfit, a long, boho dress in very fine crepe de chine polyester fabric with swirls of sea green, bright pink, cornflower blue. Her hair was long and wavy, the dark auburn colour highlighting her emerald eyes. She had worn it become she looked almost ethereal in it, stunning, and because...

Her eyes fell on the Gryffindor captain again, who was linking arms with a tall, dark-haired witch, a Seventh Year girl, who was also on the Quidditch team. She looked wonderful and they looked well together, happy, laughing, contented.

She had only found out they were dating when she had seen Potter pull her in for a quick kiss. Dorcas had confirmed it, sensitively. She had dropped her glass of butterbeer, smashing it on the floor. And replaced it with something stronger.

“They look well together,” she said.

She was still twisting the glass in her hand.

Sirius looked over at his friend. He shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s great,” he said. Noncommittal.

“I’m glad he’s happy.”

If Fifth Year Lily could have seen herself now at the start of Seventh Year, the bittersweet tone of her voice, longing in her eyes, brooding facial expression... she’s have been stunned.

“You are in your arse,” said Sirius.

She stared back at him, preparing herself to look highly offended. But...

“Come on, Evans, don’t be a coward,” Sirius Black’s grey eyes flashing, full of challenge.

“Look. I’m glad he’s happy, I’m not lying, alright? I just... I just wish I was the one making him happy. Satisfied?”

She sighed and poured herself another drink. She couldn’t believe she had just said it. Must be the alcohol.

“That’s my girl, a true Gryffindor,” Sirius said, his grey eyes alight now, twinkling dangerously.

“If you fucking say a word to him, I swear to you-“

“My lips are sealed, Evans,” he said, putting his arm around her and squeezing her shoulder tightly. “He’s my best friend, but that doesn’t mean he’s not an idiot. And anyway, we’re friends too now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I think we are, Padfoot,” she said, using the nickname she had heard for the past two years.

“One of these days I’ll explain where that comes from,” Sirius said, barking a laugh as he took her hand and led her to the centre of the Common Room, where numerous couples had started to slow dance. “Sometimes When We Touch” came on the magical record player.

“Come on then, Evans, a dance for old time’s sake, seeing as we’re mates. It’ll cheer you up. Do it for me. I’m thwarted in love and drowning my own sorrows. Help a chap, would you?”

“Oh?” she was surprised that the suave, charming but aloof boy was opening up to her of all people. He hadn’t liked her last year, but they had grown closer since then, realising they had much in common.

“Oh fine, Sirius, just because you asked nicely,” she said, pushing his arm playfully, slightly less morose than before.

“Excellent,” he said, putting his arms around her waist.

She didn’t see the flash of mischief in his eyes.

The lyrics played...

At times I'd like to break you

And drive you to your knees

At times I'd like to break through

And hold you endlessly

At times I understand you

And I know how hard you've tried

I've watched while love commands you

And I've watched love pass you by

At times I think we're drifters

Still searching for a friend

A brother or a sister

But then the passion flares again

James Potter was now staring at his attractive friend, holding onto Evans’ waist, Evans who looked bloody gorgeous in her beautiful muggle dress, like a vision... wait, what? And Sirius still wearing his tight Quidditch gear, which for some bloody stupid godforsaken reason he seemed to have charmed to fit him too tightly, look at his bloody arse that was fucking ridiculous, and WHAT DO YOU MEAN “THEN THE PASSION FLARES”!?!?!

Lily Evans had her head on Sirius’ chest, a glass of firewhisky still in her hand, the other one looping casually around his friend’s neck. Occasionally they murmured something between them, both of them giggling aloud, intimate, serene. Playfully swatting each other, Sirius whispering in her ear, Lily’s neck arching backwards, her eyes closed blissfully...

And sometimes when we touch

The honesty's too much

And I have to close my eyes and hide

I wanna hold you 'til I die

'Til we both break down and cry

I wanna hold you 'til the fear in me subsides

Sirius caught him staring and smiled back, smug, with a barely raised eyebrow.

James stared back, raising both brows, surprise, trying a feigned indifference. Trying, and failing.

What the fuck, his look said, I didn’t know you fancied Lily?

Maybe I do, Sirius Black’s eyes challenged. You’re over her anyway.

Potter sweeps a hand over his face in desperation.

[magicalforcesau]

Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Year 3: January (Part II)

Ao3 link

If Obi-Wan’s face had been tinged a little pink before entering the locker room, it was nothing like the tomato red it turned when he entered to cat calls and cheering from Ravenclaws Quidditch team.

“So it is true that you’ve gone and got yourself a girlfriend,” Eeth commented as a couple of their 2 nd and 3 rd year backups made kissy faces behind him.

“I have,” he admitted, trying to push the goofy smile off his face. He didn’t need to look like a lovestruck idiot, even if that’s a bit how he felt.

He was met by a chorus of “Ooooos” and some calls of “Kenobi has cooties!” as he pushed his way, still blushing madly, towards the back of the tent where a few of his Quidditch things resided.

“Finally went and got your Amata, Sir Knight?” Aayla goaded him with a wink.

“Is that what you were going for?” Obi-Wan asked, a little surprised, his mind flashing back to the events of his first halloween bonfire.

“A lady doesn’t tell,” Aayla answered, ruffling his hair with more force than necessary.

“Okay! Okay!” Eeth put out his hands trying to placate his team. Obi-Wan took the sudden change in conversation to quickly gather his quidditch gear, “The other captains and I have decided we’ll play our usual rotation which means we’ve got some time to prepare a strategy while Gryffindor and Slytherin face off,” A collective groan was echoed through the room by most everyone. Even he, himself, felt a little miffed about missing out on watching his friends play.

“It’s just a little tournament,” Nahdar Vebb, Obi-Wan’s personal backup, complained. He never seemed much for playing and certainly Obi-Wan wasn’t planning to end up out of action today if he could help it, so listening to such a plan wasn’t going to do him much good.

“Just a little tournament!” Eeth seemed offended by the very notion, “May I remind you that this is the last time we’ll all play together,” The statement was laid across the room like a blanket and suddenly all conversations and murmurings fell silent, “Especially for us,” Eeth continued into the new morose quiet, “Nahdar, Aayla, Obi-Wan, and me,” The four of them looked each other with a sort of soft disbelief, “This is the last time we’ll get to play for our house,” The room had grown near somber, and it was one of the few times he had seen Aayla without a smile.

“Way to boost morale, Koth,” Cin Drallig called, breaking the silence with an eye roll.

“Hey!” Eeth complained, “This is the last time I’ll be captain. I think I’m due for a little somberness.”

“Wait,” Luminara cut in, she’d finally looked up from the book she’d been reading in lieu of listening to them, “If we’re playing our usual schedule that leaves us and Hufflepuff with a disadvantage,” Everyone turned to look at her before Bultar swore softly.

“That leaves us both to play back to back games while Slytherin and Gryffindor will get breaks in between,” She finished Luminara’s thought and suddenly the mood in the room turned charged as everyone started yelling over each other. Obi-Wan however stayed quiet, gaze sweeping across the room as he considered their predicament.

“It shouldn’t be too bad for us,” He said quietly, hands going up to rest on his chin as strategies started to bounce around his head. Had he been a little more aware of things he would have seen the whole team pause what they were doing and look at him, “Hufflepuff isn’t a strong team, and although their seeker tends to have speed, they’ve missed the snitch when it’s practically drifted in front of their face,” Eeth’s eyes were suddenly shining as he practically leapt over a bench to better hear Obi-Wan, who had started pacing.

“Hufflepuff still is the weakest link,” Cin agreed.

“We should be able to play defensive,” Obi-Wan continued on, not noticing the interjection at all, “That will save us plenty of energy to face Slytherin in a full-on offensive.”

“Yes and?” Eeth was grinning now, leaning into Obi-Wan’s space which is when he finally looked up and realized he was being observed rather closely.

“Oh- I- Well,” He straightened up before catching the end of his previous thoughts before they floated away and continued, “Slytherin’s ruthless and we’ll need as much of our energy as possible,” He tapped a finger on his chin, looking around the room thoughtfully, “I think we should play all our alternates if we can’t capture the snitch from Hufflepuff within 10 minutes,” There was a roar of noise that greeted this suggestion. Some offense taken by their starter players, and some excitement from the ones who never really got a chance to play, Nahdar just looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“I think Kenobi’s right,” Nahdar spoke above the noise, and as he was one usually without an opinion the team stopped to listen, “We’ll need our starting players in their best shape for the match against Slytherin and it should be enough to shake Hufflepuff’s confidence,” Ravenclaw’s team debated between themselves.

“I checked the rules and there’s nothing against it,” Luminara announced, waving a rulebook around lightly.

“What about when we face off against Gryffindor?” Eeth was looking at Obi-Wan with stars in his eyes and Obi-Wan paused.

He knew a lot of Cody’s Quidditch plays, both from playing against him for 6 years and from listening to him talk about the sport constantly. He’d never betray Cody’s trust if he had guessed his plan, but truthfully Cody was a bit of a firecracker and changed up his strategies more often than he pestered Ben into helping him with his homework.

“I have no idea what Cody’s planning,” Ben answered honestly and Eeth looked a little disappointed, “It’s probably best that we watch their games to get an idea of their strategy,” Eeth looked a little disappointed by the prospect of having to watch instead of plan, but the rest of Ravenclaws team chattered in excitement.

“Hey Koth!” A loud, and familiar, voice yelled in warning before sticking his head inside without waiting for an answer, “Ravenclaw’s not just going to sit in here and miss us wiping the floor with Slytherin are you?” Cody smirked and Eeth blanched.

“Of course not!” He spat, as if that hadn’t been his plan the whole time, “There’s more to Quidditch than just planning!”

“Well good!” Cody laughed, “We’ve got a section roped off for all of us to watch while we’re not playing,” Obi-Wan smiled as Eeth crossed the room attempting to look unbothered and unintimidated by the other captain.

“We’ll be there,” Eeth promised, crossing his arms.

“Oh and Kenobi,” Cody grinned, looking right at him so Obi-Wan could see the fire in his eyes, “Try to survive until our match. I’d be a shame if you missed it,” Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes almost playfully.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Cody,” He quipped, “Try to keep your head away from any rogue bludgers, Satine and I would hate for you to lose it,” Cody’s grin grew wider with his words and he cackled gleefully as he ducked out of the room.

He had not only surprised himself by his newly found calmness, but evidently his team as well. Aalya crossed the room to press a hand to his forehead.

“Are you feeling okay, Obi-Wan?” She said with real concern, but he waved her off, “You’re never like this before a match.”

“Well, it’s just a game,” Obi-Wan pushed down a twinge of nervousness that tried to build at her words. Satine flickered into his mind again at the thought and he felt his face heat up and he looked away, suddenly very interested in smoothing down his Quidditch robes.

“You’ve been wound up over this ‘game’ for seven years and all it took was a kiss to set you straight?” Aayla teased and his face really did go red then.

“Had I known that was the key, I’d have kissed you myself,” Eeth lamented.

“That wasn’t it!” He hissed at them, but Eeth just slapped a hand on his shoulder before dropping the subject and calling towards his team.

“Let’s get up to the stands before the other captains wonder where we are,” Their captain announced, snatching up his broom before watching the rest of them follow suit.

“You mean before the other captains start calling you a nerd again?” Cin corrected and Obi-Wan ducked out of the room with his broom in one hand and protective gear in the other before he could hear the retort.

Cody reentered the Gryffindor locker room to his three younger brothers roughhousing with Anakin, and the rest of his team placing bets on the victor. He didn’t bother to break it up, knowing that the four of them had enough energy to play practically into the night if they needed to do so. He passed by them, slapping a hand on his Keeper, Caleb Dume’s, shoulder as he went. He paused though by his broomstick and turned to scan the room again.

“Where’s Moteé?” Cody suddenly felt something akin to nervousness as he looked around once more to see if he was missing something. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked around as well, but she did not appear.

“Oh right!” Anakin spoke suddenly and Cody felt a little bit of dread creep into his unshakable confidence, “Padme told me she’s sick. They have her holed up in the hospital wing,” The Gryffindor team lapsed into a silence that rarely ever percolated through their locker room as Cody’s brain started spinning.

“Okay,” He started and then stopped, before starting again, “Okay, that’s fine,” It wasn’t fine given that they were really banking on last year’s skills and the whole team gave Anakin a side eyed glare for failing to mention this earlier, “I want everyone out of this room and prepared for the match,” Cody commanded and the Gryffindor locker room went right back to its usual chaos.

“Rex,” Cody called to his youngest brother, and Fives, who had him in a headlock, dropped him instantly. Rex trotted over to his older brother and waited quietly next to him as the team filed out of the room. Anakin was the last to exit, lingering a moment longer with a look towards his friend, before a stern look from Cody had him out the door following the team out towards the field.

Cody knelt down next to Rex so he could more easily look his brother in the eye.

“Rex, you’ll be playing seeker today,” Cody said seriously and Rex rolled his eyes.

“I know, Cody. I’m her backup, it was obviously going to come to this,” Rex made to move away, but Cody caught his wrist to stop him before dropping it again.

“Rex I know you’re extremely talented,” Cody told him suddenly, “The only reason I didn’t make you a starter this year was because the season got canceled,” Rex blinked in surprise.

“But Moteé-” He tried, but Cody shook his head.

“Yeah she has a year on you, but you know that’s not how I do things,” Cody grinned at him, “I just thought you should know before we went out there.”

“Well, thanks mate,” Rex acknowledged with a growing smile and Cody pushed himself back into a standing position and grabbed his broom.

“Now Rex,” Cody glanced down at him, “let’s go out there and stomp Slytherin into the dust!”

Anakin and the rest of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team were huddled just out of sight of the stands. The crowd was already cheering and Anakin basked in it. He squinted his eyes across the field trying to make out the Slytherin team at the other end. He didn’t much care who they’d decided to play, because either way, his goal of knocking them out of the air was rather unchanged. He felt more than saw Rex come up behind him and he turned to his friend as Cody pushed his way out and into the center of the field.

“What’d he want with you?” Anakin asked, mildly interested as he watched Ventress appear from the shadows.

“Oh, you know Cody,” Rex sighed, but there was a hint of fondness in his voice, “He’s always got to remind me which one’s the snitch,” Anakin chuckled, that did seem like a very Cody thing to do.

“Do you think he’ll call heads or tails?” Anakin thought out loud and Echo scoffed from beside them.

“He’ll call heads,” He answered and Fives nodded wisely, a bit of orange jersey was peeking out from the collar of his shirt and Rex motioned for him to fix it, “That’s his lucky call.”

“He’ll want Slytherin to be downwind, despite the fact that there really is no wind today,” Fives continued, adjusting his uniform to hide his favorite jersey more adequately, “He’s convinced it’ll slow them down,” Sure enough they watched as Cody managed to win the coin toss and pulled out his wand, with a well-practiced flourish the banners at one end of the field became red and gold. Though they couldn’t see her very well, they were sure Ventress was sneering as she pulled out her wand and flourished it, turning the other end green and silver.

Cody waved a hand at them and on cue they marched out onto the field. Their alternate players filed off to the side to sit on the bench and wait to see if they’d be needed and the starters lined up just as Cody had made them practice hundreds of times. As if Cody could hear his thoughts, he turned around from his own position to grin at Anakin.

“Now we look just as professional as we’ll play,” He reminded them.

“Let’s have a clean game now,” Professor Tiin reminded them before motioning for them to mount their brooms and take to the skies. Taking off was always a rush for Anakin, but he tried not to get caught up in it and instead watched intently for the bludgers to be released, adjusting the bat in his hands.

The Quaffle was tossed up and the game began. Cody was already halfway down the field with the ball, so Anakin whacked a bludger towards the Slytherin keeper without a second thought, though he ended up having to dodge it as the opposing beater hit it right back.

Fives had better luck, managing to hit a bludger right between his older brother and a Slytherin chaser. Cody didn’t even blink but the Slytherin chaser veered violently out of the way.

“Cody’s been hit by too many of those,” Fives commented with a frown before they both sped off hoping to get another good hit in as the bludgers started changing course again.

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff captains were sitting side by side, complaining about the unfairness of the tournament, but Obi-Wan was actively trying to tune them out to quietly cheer for Gryffindor.

When the Fetts all got to play together they were quite a formidable opponent. Obi-Wan knew they liked to play a lot of backyard quidditch games and were all generally good with any position. He knew from many of Cody’s quiet discussions with him that he’d very carefully selected each position for his brothers when they’d joined the team despite them all being jack of all trades. Fives had a little bit more energy and strength than Echo so he’d been good to match up with their resident prodigy and his former mentee, Anakin. Echo had more speed so he joined Cody as a chaser. Obi-Wan had been surprised when Rex had joined them on the field, because Cody had already expressed his remorse for not being able to swap out his seekers with such short notice. When he noticed she wasn’t on the bench though, he figured fate had given Cody a gift, though he quite hoped the girl was alright.

Rex was an incredible Seeker, he’d been told countless times, Cody was very passionate about his speed and agility as well as his tendency to do whatever needed to be done, which was a trait he shared with Cody. Cody had grown into his role as chaser. It hadn’t been his first choice, not that he was picky at all. He played it so passionately that they’d decided to play him right from the start and since then he’d only ever missed one game.

Their third Chaser was Rush Clovis and it was clear why Cody liked to start with him. Rush could be ruthless and while he didn’t always have the quickest speed, he was strong and had the longest throwing range. This, he knew, Cody liked to use quite frequently in his more daring plays.

The oddball on their team was Caleb Dume, their Keeper. Obi-Wan felt he couldn’t say much on the subject as a mediocre Keeper himself, but Caleb did often feel like the weakest link on their team. He did think that it may have something to do with the fact that he was surrounded by immense talent that really overshadowed much of what he tried to do.

Although, as Obi-Wan squinted at the Keeper, he seemed to have just flubbed a rather easy block. Caleb had been staring off at the Beauxbatons section rather than keeping an eye on the Quaffle, but it seemed a quick reprimand from Cody was enough to get him focused on the game once more.

It was a little odd, Obi-Wan realized, to be watching one of Cody’s matches without Satine. He and Satine always made it a point to go to Gryffindor’s games to support him even in the midst of an argument, but this was the first time they’d watched apart. Still, he was having a good time with Aayla yelling out all her opinions on the game and Bultar making much quieter comments on possible strategies they could use against both teams.

Even the complaining from the captains was fairly humorous, considering they were to be each other’s opponents in only a matter of time. He glanced over at Luminara who was still quietly reading her book, mostly uninterested in the sport unless she was actively playing it. She did glance up at him and smile when she caught him looking.

“Apologies, I was just wondering what you were reading,” He gave her a half smile and she returned it.

“Unfogging the Future,” She answered, showing him the cover.

“Ah, divination,” He confirmed.

“Yes,” she nodded.

They lapsed back into content silence, save for Aayla trying to scream instructions across the field. Yes it was rather fun to watch the game with his team, though he couldn’t deny it would be better if Satine was there with them.

Rex was hovering over the field, eyes narrowed in search of any glint of gold. Slytherin’s seeker was watching him closely, Rex was their wild card this game since he’d never officially played a match before, and if he wasn’t so practiced, he’d feel rather nervous.

A flash of motion drew his eye, but it wasn’t golden. A bludger had been rocketed towards Cody who had to swerve to miss it, but it still managed to throw him off balance. Had that been Rex, or even Echo or Fives they’d have fallen off, it was a testament to his brother’s skills that not only did he manage to stay on his broom, he also managed to catch the Quaffle Echo had tossed his way.

He saw Cody dart between a couple of Slytherin chasers before tossing the ball back to Echo without even looking. Echo scored and the crowd cheered. Rex moved his eyes away from the match, tempting as it would be to keep watch and instead did another scan of the field.

There it was. His breath caught as his eyes narrowed at a glint of gold hovering close to the ground. It was fluttering around near the canvas walls of the stands and Rex didn’t plan on wasting any time. The score was close enough that either team could catch the snitch and it would be the winning hand. He breathed out trying to fake an air of calm before shoving his broom handle down and speeding towards the ground. The Slytherin seeker must have been fooled by his calmness because he was not immediately on Rex’s tail. Rex didn’t wait for any of the other players to get out of his way, Gryffindor’s team automatically moved while Slytherin’s were forced to practically leap away.

The ground was fast approaching now and Rex didn’t take his eyes off the little golden ball as he adjusted his positioning slightly so he wouldn’t ram into the ground. Slytherin’s seeker was behind him now, trying to pick up speed to race Rex, but feet away from the canvased edge of the field, he seemed to get a little wary and subconsciously reduced speed. Rex however, didn’t get into Gryffindor for nothing and reached out with his hand, feeling it close over the snitch before he tore a hole through the canvas and was knocked off his broom. He rolled a few more feet, never once letting go of the little golden ball. He sat up and looked at the delicate wings fluttering desperately between his fingers. Underneath the bleachers the light was dim, but the snitch still shined brightly and it caused Rex to grin.

The next moment the canvas walls suddenly disappeared and he looked through wooden beams to see Professor Tiin and Cody, who must have landed in record time, running towards him. Rex lifted his hand and shook his fist around showing off his catch. It didn’t slow either of their paces, but Cody’s look of worry was suddenly replaced by a wide grin.

Cody ended up outpacing the professor and swept Rex up in a hug.

“Way to go!” Cody adjusted his hold on Rex until he’d climbed up on his older brother's shoulders. Professor Tiin did not look happy about it, but Cody ran them both back on the field so Rex could hold the snitch high up for everyone to see.

“Nice catch!” Echo called as he and Fives landed next to them, followed closely by Anakin and Rush before finally Caleb. The crowd was cheering loudly and the whole team was chanting Rex’s name. He caught Anakin’s eye and his best friend gave him a thumbs up and a grin.

“Yes, yes,” Professor Tiin was still staring nearby looking displeased, “Now put down your Seeker, Captain. He’s going to have to be checked over by Madam Nema if you were planning on playing him again,” And as suddenly as Cody had picked him up, he’d set Rex back down and pushed him in the direction of the professor.

“He’s all yours, Professor!” Cody called and then moved to collect Rex’s broom from underneath the stands.

“What a dangerous catch,” Luminara commented quietly as both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff descended the staircases to set up for their own match.

“I concur,” Obi-Wan spoke with a frown, and then cut off Aayla before she could begin to disagree, “The first match is hardly a place for such a risky move.”

“It’s Gryffindor,” Aayla groaned, “That’s just how they are! You both could use a little more risk-taking. Then maybe we’d have a shot at beating them,” Obi-Wan shook his head with a smile.

“I think you’re underestimating us, Aayla,” He tsked, but she just rolled her eyes, “We’ve beaten Gryffindor before and often it’s because they use a risky strategy that doesn’t end up paying off.”

They exited the staircase and the two teams split each going a different way to their respective entrance onto the field.

“Okay! Are we still clear on the plan?” Eeth stopped them the moment Hufflepuff was out of earshot.

“We know the plan, Eeth,” Cin grumbled.

“I’ll keep an eye on the time for us,” Obi-Wan held up his wrist where he’d swapped his watch around so it wouldn’t get damaged.

“Excellent, Kenobi,” Eeth nodded and led them to the edge of the field, “Just give me a sign when it’s time and I’ll call time out,” There was a whistle emitting from the middle of the field and Eeth glanced over his shoulder, “Time for the toss, I’ll see you all out there.”

Ravenclaw team fell into soft chatter as Obi-Wan pulled on his chest guard over his robes. The Keeper position had the most padding in the game and although he knew it likely made Satine feel better, it tended to remind him that it didn’t do much to cushion the blow.

“Do you want me to tie that?” Luminara suggested, taking the two laces attached to the back in her hands.

“I’ll do it!” Before he could respond Aayla planted one foot on his back and pulled the strings tight enough he felt every last breath leave his body.

“Aayla, you’re going to kill him,” Bultar pulled her away from him as Obi-Wan desperately tried to regain oxygen.

“It’s padding, not a corset,” Luminara reminded her, gently loosening the ties, “There! Can you breathe now, Obi-Wan?”

“Yes thank you,” He managed in a rather breathless tone. He had just enough time to strap on the helmet before they were called to the field. Their alternates were walking a little stiffly, but still managed to keep up appearances from a distance.

Obi-Wan watched his team closely until it was time for them to mount their brooms. He glanced down at his watch subtly as they took flight, 10 minutes and counting.

Something seemed off about the way Ravenclaw was playing. Satine really wasn’t a Quidditch expert, and the lack of Cody’s narration wasn’t helping, but Ben kept glancing down and she was starting to wonder if something was wrong. The few times she removed her eyes from Ben she’d seen Aayla playing much rougher than usual, nearly knocking one of the Hufflepuff chasers from her broom. It was something she expected from Cody, but Ravenclaw usually employed a little more grace in their maneuvers.

“Are you listening to me, Satine?” Stass was looking at her.

“I’m sorry Stass,” Satine apologized, “I was just-” but before she could continue, she stopped. Her eyes had drifted over to Ben again, who was now making some sort of gesture to their captain and she felt her heart drop like lead.

“What’s going on?” Stass asked and she wasn’t alone as murmurs spread across the crowd. Eeth Koth had called timeout and the entire Ravenclaw team had soared down to the field. Hufflepuff landed a moment later also looking rather confused.

“Did something happen?” Satine raised a beautiful set of spectator binoculars Cody had gotten her one Christmas and trained them on Ben.

Ravenclaw had just broken their huddle and Ben was looking quite serious, standing next to his captain. She waited for them to move back onto the field, but they didn’t.

“They’re switching all of their players?” Stass gasped and Satine immediately dropped the binoculars and sure enough, though Ben and Koth hadn’t moved, all their alternate players had moved onto the field and were in position. Upon closer inspection, even Professor Tiin looked baffled, but still started the game back up.

She watched in surprise for a few more moments along with the rest of the audience as the game progressed once more before she trained her eye back on Ben.

He was watching the skies with a calculated expression, Koth was still next to him in a similar state. She felt a bit of relief in the knowledge that whatever was going on, Ben seemed fine. Aayla had come up behind Ben and Koth and threw her arms around them, practically choking the two unsuspecting players out. Satine lowered the binoculars once more to watch the game with mild interest.

“Look at Hufflepuff,” Stass whispered to her, “They keep messing up,” and sure enough as soon as she’d said that, one of the Hufflepuff Chasers dropped the Quaffle right into Ravenclaw’s hands.

“I don’t know what they were thinking,” Satine admitted, “But whatever it is, it does seem to have its advantages.”

Eeth was practically in tears watching the alternate Ravenclaws secure the snitch right from under Hufflepuff’s nose and even Obi-Wan had to try his best not to laugh at him.

“They did it! I can’t believe they did it!” Eeth wiped at his eyes furiously.

“Did you really have such little faith in us?” Nahdar questioned dropping out of the air.

“It’s hard not to have faith in you, Nahdar,” Cin commented, “Considering how many times you’ve had to sub in for Kenobi.”

“Yes, quite,” Obi-Wan responded stiffly.

“I don’t really want to play anymore today, Kenobi,” Nahdar told him pointedly.

“I wasn’t planning on falling off my broom if that’s what you’re insinuating,” He said with a glare.

“That’s a first for you,” Aayla poked him in the chest. Obi-Wan scoffed good naturedly, but was saved from further teasing by the approach of the rest of their team. Hufflepuff was walking off the field, looking far from comfortable by their loss.

“Next up we’ll be going against Slytherin,” Eeth reminded them as if they’d had time to forget, “I want a full-on offensive! Ropal I need you to catch that snitch as fast as you can, unless it will jeopardize our win,” The team nodded just to give him the satisfaction of an agreed upon plan before they all wandered onto the field. Ventress chose heads and won so she made Ravenclaw switch sides as if it would throw them off. Since they didn’t bother to leave the field they quickly swapped sides and were in position by the time Slytherin walked in. They were back in the air with the game started before he knew it.

Slytherin was one of the more aggressive teams, it was only natural with their level of ambition, but it still never made Ben feel particularly good about facing them. Or perhaps it was because they were the first team he ever faced in Quidditch and that unease still tended to permeate his thinking about them. His thoughts briefly flickered to Satine again, but he kept his eye on the ball, managing to catch Slytherin’s attempt at a goal and flinging the ball as far as he could towards Cin.

Ravenclaw hadn’t managed to score yet, but he’d also prevented Slytherin from scoring any points either. They were really in a bit of a stalemate, which was only proven true by the frustrated anger he could dimly see pouring off Ventress whenever he took stock of her position. He’d made the mistake of discounting her momentarily in favor of keeping an eye on the Chasers when suddenly something black and heavy pinged off his head.

He found himself dangling from his broom with one hand, ears ringing and practically seeing stars. He was too shocked to even notice the danger he was in, and instead looked up to take stock of the match once more. The Slytherin with the Quaffle had just managed to shove Luminara roughly away and he was lining up his shot. Ventress was still above him, too busy laughing to do any more harm. Eeth was looking his way in mild horror.

Noting the trajectory of the ball and knowing he had no real time to struggle his way back onto his broom, he instead paused for a moment as the Chaser threw. The ball left his hands and headed right where Obi-Wan had deduced and in a moment of strange calmness he used his one hand to direct his broom to suddenly point straight down. As he’d hoped, the tail end of his broom made enough contact with the Quaffle that it was thoroughly blocked and it fell towards the ground with no one in position to catch it.

Finally, able to have a moment to think he quickly pulled himself onto his broom, clinging on a little tighter than necessary. The crowd was cheering and in an exciting turn of events Luminara had managed to scoop up the Quaffle from its descent and put it through the Slytherin hoops with a little help from a bludger nearly knocking Ventress off of her own broom.

“Alright, Kenobi?” Eeth had flown up next to him, voice shaking a little bit.

“Yes, I seem to be fine now,” He decided but his grip on his broom was still rather iron tight.

“Good man,” Eeth put a gentle hand on his shoulder before zooming off to steal the Quaffle from a Slytherin catch.

Satine’s heart was in her throat as she clutched the railing, pressing the binoculars so tightly to her face it would probably leave a mark.

“Satine he’s fine,” Stass sighed, but Satine couldn’t tear her eyes away from the game to look at her, “He made it back on the broom and he’s still in one piece!”

“He could have fallen!” She managed to hiss, “And he looks a little jarred from the experience. What if Ventress gave him a concussion?”

“Look,” She pointed as if Satine wasn’t already glued to the field, “Eeth talked to him and he’s not calling time out, so it’s fine! What are you, his mother?”

“Of course not because I actually care about him!” Satine spat, before remembering herself. She managed to take her eyes off of him for just a moment to give Stass an apologetic look, “I’m sorry Stass, but I just got him and I really don’t intend to lose him. Especially over such a barbaric game,” She tacked on the last part with enough venom that Stass actually laughed.

“That’s fair-” She cut off with a gasp and Satine turned back to the game fast enough to give herself whiplash. Ben was fine, however, still floating in front of the hoops at the end. Glancing around further she saw Ravenclaw’s Seeker streaking across the sky with his hand outstretched. Slytherin’s Seeker was trying to push poor Bolla off his broom, but he must have been extra determined today, because he managed to cling on and wrap his hand around the golden ball despite nearly ending up in a spiral towards the ground. Cheers erupted around Satine who let out a breath as Ben descended from the sky to celebrate with his team.

The next match was Cody’s though and she was rather certain that if Ben didn’t give her a heart attack today, Cody might.

The Gryffindors thundered down the stairs ahead of the Hufflepuffs to get onto the field first. They ran across the Ravenclaw team, attempting to leave the field and weaved through them like a stampede of hyper cattle. Cody had just managed to scoot past Koth when he ended up colliding with Kenobi who he knocked to the ground with an “oof.”

“Oh! Sorry mate, didn’t see you there,” Cody offered a hand and Obi-Wan took it allowing Cody to pull him back up.

“Thank you, Cody,” He answered with a smile.

“That block was awesome by the way!” Cody suddenly remembered, grinning widely, “I didn’t think you had it in you to do something like that,” Obi-Wan looked a little surprised by the praise, but was quick to turn his head to hide a smile.

“Well, I’d prefer not to have to do it again,” He told him, “Ventress can actually hit fairly hard,” Obi-Wan removed his Keeper’s helmet at the thought.

“You’re alright though?” Cody checked with him, eyes searching for any sort of injury, but thankfully finding none.

“Nothing a little ice can’t solve,” He confirmed before they both heard the warning whistle from the field, “That’ll be your cue, Cody,”

“Sure is!” Cody said excitedly, jogging down the hall with a little wave back towards Obi-Wan.

“Have fun!” His friend called after him and Cody smiled.

By the time Obi-Wan made it up the stairs, the game had already started. He’d been practically jumped by Madam Nema, who refused to let him go before she gave him a once over. In her defense though, he didn’t have a great track record involving trips to the hospital wing.

The Gryffindors were already pulling ahead of Hufflepuff who seemed to be playing quite poorly. He reclaimed his seat between Luminara and Aayla while gazing across the sky trying to figure out what was going on. It seemed Rush had possession of the Quaffle and they were likely about to pull some risky stunt given Cody’s current positioning. Rush tossed the Quaffle high into the air, but it fell short of Cody and into the hands of a Hufflepuff chaser. It didn’t seem to matter though because it was snatched back rather quickly by Echo.

“What did I miss?” Obi-Wan asked, adjusting his hold on the ice-cold towel that Madam Nema had insisted he take.

“Hufflepuff decided to try our strategy,” Luminara explained and Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up.

“That’s really not a good move for them,” He turned his gaze on Breha who was doing her level best to keep Cody from scoring.

“They did adjust it,” Bultar leaned over to add, “As you can see, they decided to play half their starters and half their alternates this game. It’s still not very smart, but I can’t blame them.”

“Going against Gryffindor and Slytherin back to back, was trouble for them from the start,” He considered as Breha managed to block Cody’s attempt to score.

“I see the snitch,” Bolla pointed towards the Hufflepuff’s end of the field and sure enough, hovering just above the center ring was the game-ender itself.

“Where’s their seeker?” Nahdar scanned the crowd to see the Hufflepuff Seeker looking in the opposite direction.

“Breha’s seen it,” Obi-Wan said. Sure enough the Hufflepuff Captain seemed to be trying to subtly get the attention of her seeker. Before they had much of a chance for communication though, Rex shot through the sky and secured Gryffindor’s victory.

“Tough break for Hufflepuff,” Aayla cringed, watching as Breha approached her seeker, no doubt to say a few words about their lack of direction.

“It’s a shame really,” Eeth sighed gazing down at the Hufflepuff captain on the ground, “She’s really quite a talented player. Hufflepuff just hasn’t had much luck with recruiting recently.”

The Ravenclaw team broke out in quiet conversations as they waited for Slytherin to join Hufflepuff on the field. It only took a couple minutes before Ventress made her appearance.

“Didn’t even want to watch that last match,” Cin huffed in annoyance, “I always get the feeling that Slytherin thinks they’re better than us.”

“You don’t say!” Aayla responded with sarcasm coating her voice.

The next thing they heard though, was the thundering of feet as the Gryffindor team approached the stands.

“Switch seats with me, Kenobi?” Luminara asked politely. He knew she wasn’t asking for her own benefit as unsurprisingly once the Gryffindor team burst in, Cody ran down the bleachers, ignoring the stairs entirely to sit down right next to Obi-Wan right on the line between the two sections.

“What’d ya think?” Cody asked him, still clearly riding off the high of another win.

“I think you ought to take a shower after the tournament,” Obi-Wan answered with a rather underhanded look.

“And miss out on the after party? Wouldn’t dream of it!” Cody punched him lightly on the arm.

“Hey Cody, we’re placing bets,” Fives dropped down next to them, “How long do you think Hufflepuff will last before Slytherin destroys them?”

“Well that’s rather rude, Fives,” Obi-Wan responded before Cody could, “I’m sure Breha and her team will try their best, and I certainly wouldn’t want them to lose to Ventress.”

“Someone’s a little salty about getting hit in the head,” Cody teased, poking Obi-Wan in the cheek.

“Oh come on,” Fives pressed, “What do you guys think? We all know that Slytherin will win.”

“I’ll bet on 10 minutes,” Cody decided. Obi-Wan took in the field and considered their positioning.

“13 and a half minutes,” He deduced and Fives wrote it down with a laugh.

“The specifics are what will get you,” Cody pointed out with an eyebrow raised, but Obi-Wan just shook his head.

“Feel free to tell me, ‘I told you so’ if I lose,” He told him, pressing his fingers together and observing the game with laser focus.

13 and 3/4ths minutes later the snitch had been caught by a silver glove and Cody was looking anywhere, but Obi-Wan’s smug face.

“You were still off!” Cody tried, but knew he’d already lost.

“But the point of a bet is whoever guesses closest and I do believe that would be me,” Obi-Wan was looking rather pleased with himself and Cody scrutinized him closer.

“Are my eyes deceiving me or are you actually having fun?” Cody fought the urge to remove the ice from his hands to ensure he hadn’t gone and landed himself with brain trauma, but Obi-Wan was staring across the field towards the Ravenclaw section with a look just short of awe.

“I’ve been told I need no reason to worry today,” He said finally, but Cody was sure there was a little more to it than that, especially considering the moon-eyed lovestruck gaze sweeping towards where they both knew Satine would be sitting.

“Satine snogged him once and suddenly it’s like he’s a new man,” Aayla interjected, a little too loudly as Gryffindor team heard easily and started turning towards them. Cody gave them a look before they could make any teasing remarks; he’d waited seven long years for them to get together, he didn’t want to take any chances.

“That’s not it, Aayla!” His face was beat red and Cody really had to bite down a laugh.

“Sure mate,” Cody grinned, and really, he’d earned his ability to tease them.

The warning whistle sounded from the field and suddenly both Quidditch teams were staring at each other in surprise.

“The match!” Koth was scrambling up the bleachers while the rest of his team followed his lead.

“Come on team!” Cody shouted, floundering in the absence of Ravenclaw, “We can’t let them beat us to the field!” So they raced down the stairs, and around the pitch, Cody just managed to sprint onto the field a few steps before Koth did.

“So we’re tied for first!” Cody grabbed the opposing captain’s hand and although the run hadn’t affected him much, Koth was panting and holding onto Cody’s hand a little longer than necessary as he tried to catch his breath.

“So we are,” Koth managed.

“I call heads!” Cody turned towards Professor Tiin who didn’t look surprised in the slightest.

“Tails for us then,” Koth finally managed to straighten back up, still looking frazzled.

“It’s heads,” Professor Tiin told them and Cody pulled out his wand and decorated his side of the field.

Cody would never say he was as thoughtful as a Ravenclaw, but when it came to Quidditch he strived to learn every possible advantage that he could. Fives and Echo often thought it wouldn’t help, but Cody figured it couldn’t hurt .

As soon as Koth had decorated the Ravenclaw side of the field, the two teams approached from the edge of the field and they lined up.

“Just like we’ve practiced,” Cody turned to his team, the dawning realization that this was it, his last game at Hogwarts, echoing in his mind.

“As planned,” He heard Koth murmur quietly to his fellow Chasers and then they were off.

When the Quaffle was thrown, Cody resorted to his usual strategy to rush it. Cody didn’t try to knock anyone off their brooms, but he could be intimidating enough that they might think he would. Ravenclaw however had observed all their other matches and had managed to steal the Quaffle right out from under him. He swore with a grin and fire in his eyes as he tore after Koth. Ravenclaw over the years had become a fine matchup for Gryffindor and while their rivalry with Slytherin would always be stronger, Cody was happy that his last match would be one that really challenged him.

Cody reclaimed the Quaffle from an intercepted pass rather quickly and raced towards the other end of the field, his eyes focused on his friend who was stealing himself to block whatever stupid move Cody was going to throw at him. Cody had always been aware what a disadvantage it was to be best friends with the person who would be blocking all his plays, but after six years of playing against him, it was one of the things that pushed him to be a better Chaser and he was very proud of the progress he had made.

Cody dipped right in front of Obi-Wan and whipped around to toss the Quaffle through one of the side hoops, but it was tapped off course by straining outstretched fingers as Obi-Wan fed him a calculating look.

“Going easy on me, Cody?” He asked lightly as he readjusted his balance on his broom.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Cody yelled back as he was racing away back down the field after the Quaffle.

Obi-Wan adjusted his grip on his broom, which really was just a nervous habit after years of being tossed off in varying degrees. Practically everyone was down at the Gryffindor side of the field fighting over the Quaffle, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they would be heading towards him.

This whole game was stretching on much longer than any of the others had. While Gryffindor surely had an edge on them in skill, Ravenclaw was good at strategy and those two things seemed to occasionally cancel each other out.

Cody hadn’t stopped grinning the whole game and in fact looked happier every time Obi-Wan managed to block one of his rather stupid attempts at a goal. He wasn’t the best Keeper in the world, but he knew Cody liked to play against him, based on his knowledge of Cody, alone.

Speaking of, Cody was racing towards him with Echo following closely on his right. He just managed to dodge a bludger sent by Anakin that surely would have taken his head clean off, before he had to make an educated guess and block the hoop on the right. He managed to stop them from scoring, but Echo got possession of the ball and was racing towards the left side. Ben moved to block him, but it was the wrong choice as instead the Quaffle flew over his head and into Cody’s outstretched arms.

10 more points to Gryffindor then.

“Good try, mate!” Cody called to him before racing off.

“I should have seen that coming,” Obi-Wan spoke quietly to himself, a little frustrated, but it was hard to be mad when he knew he was outmatched.

“Kenobi,” Eeth had zoomed over to him rather out of breath from the skirmish over the ball, “It’s just a matter of time before the snitch shows. Do not let them score!” And he zoomed off without waiting for an answer.

Eeth made an attempt to snatch the ball from Cody who was approaching once more, but he failed and spun out leaving just Cody and Obi-Wan facing off against each other.

Cody tried dipping down, but he didn’t fall for it. So when Cody flew hard to the right and Ben positioned himself to block he was surprised at the angle of the throw. Looking backwards quickly he saw Echo, hands outstretched to catch the ball and score.

Time was moving slow and he knew he wouldn’t make it, but Eeth told him to block the ball so he was going to block the ruddy ball. Ben pushed himself up, dropping hold of his broom; it gave him just enough elevation to slap the ball down and away from the goal. He was suspended in the air for just a second too long seeing the flabbergasted expression on Echo’s face before he fell, barely managing to catch hold of one of the foot holds at the base of his broom. He struggled to pull himself back onto the broom for the second time that day, but it had been enough of a shock for the Gryffindor team that Ravenclaw managed to score not once, but twice.

“Bolla’s seen the snitch!” It was announced to the arena just as Cody had gotten hold of the Quaffle once more.

Obi-Wan was still shaking with the latent fear of almost falling to his death, but tried to steel himself. Cody was flying too high though and Obi-Wan didn’t know how to match him. He surely had something up his sleeve, but he hadn’t tried this maneuver on him before. He finally moved up to meet him and Cody dropped faster than he could follow corkscrewing to the right and managing to score a goal. Cody hadn’t stopped moving though and he realized much too late what was about to happen. Cody had reclaimed the ball and before practically anyone else on the field could move he’d score one last goal before the crowd was cheering and red and gold swept the banners around the whole field. Both boys looked up to see Rex, out of breath holding up the snitch for the third time that day.

Obi-Wan was first to land on the field, his hands were still shaking from adrenaline as he dismounted his broom.

“You’ve been holding out on me, mate!” Suddenly he found himself in a headlock and Cody was grinding his fist on the top of his head hard enough he could feel it through the thick helmet padding, “That was an absolute Gryffindor block if I’ve ever seen one!”

“I prefer being on a broom while in the air,” He managed to say, worming his way out of the hold, “You clearly were too, how long have you been trying that last move for?” Cody put a finger to his lips.

“Trade secret!” He said gleefully, before wrapping an arm around his friend and dragging him towards where the other Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were landing.

“When I said not to let them score,” Eeth pulled Obi-Wan away from Cody, “I didn’t mean to take such a great risk,” He chided him, but Cody tossed an arm around both of them.

“Come on, Koth! It was a great move!” Cody said proudly.

“You’re one to talk!” Eeth huffed.

“Rex!” Easily distracted, Cody turned away from them to scoop up his little brother, “What a catch!”

“You’re okay?” Eeth checked with him once more, before leaving him alone after a nod.

Though Ravenclaw was a little sore about losing, it was hard not to be wrapped up in the joy exuding from the Gryffindors. Cody was heading their little pack as they walked off the field and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the smile creep onto his face.

He knew Cody wanted to go pro after they graduated. In fact, he knew Cody would go pro after they graduated, whether his friend could see it or not. No one he’d ever met was so passionate about the sport than Cody Fett.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” He turned his head at the ice-cold voice to see Satine, practically spitting fire, who had clearly run all the way down the moment the match ended.

“Satine,” He greeted, and despite her anger, he felt his heart soar higher than any broom at the mere sight of her. She grabbed his arm tightly and pulled him away from the rest of his team, both of them easily ignoring the “Oooooo’s” as if he was a first year about to be sent to the headmaster’s office

“When I said, not to worry,” She was glaring a hole through his eyes, but he still couldn’t seem to stop smiling at her, “I didn’t say, give me a heart attack!”

“Now Satine, that's hardly fair. Ventress was the one who knocked me off my broom after all,” He skirted around the topic she’d been speaking about a little more cheekily than he normally would, but the adrenaline hadn’t quite worn off yet, and looking at her really wasn’t helping.

“That’s not what I’m referring to and you know it! I expect these kinds of things from Cody, but I really thought you were less of a risk taker,” She hissed, before her features softened just ever so slightly, “I really thought for a moment that I might lose you,” The smile slipped off his face rather quickly which seemed to make her own frown deepen.

“I do apologize. I didn’t mean to make you worry,” He looked more worried than she did now and she sighed, reaching up and smoothing a thumb across his temple.

“Still,” She spoke softly and he leaned in a little closer to hear her, “You did play wonderfully.”

“It seemed you were right after all,” He admitted and she raised an eyebrow, “There truly wasn’t anything to worry about. Now that it’s over I’m starting to realize I may have been overthinking some things the past several years,” She looked deep into his eyes, still cupping his face before continuing.

“Perhaps,” She started carefully, “But it’s not your fault,” He suddenly felt a bit like he was under a microscope and changed course.

“A shame we lost today,” He sighed with a smile, “Perhaps otherwise I could have gotten a kiss for winning,” He said it rather shyly, looking at her through his eyelashes and trying not to blush madly. She rolled her eyes at him, her hand dropping to his shoulder. He was a little disappointed she hadn’t taken the bait, but he was new to all this so he was just happy she wasn’t too angry with him.

“Ben, this isn’t some fantasy,” She confirmed and he nodded, about to pull away from her when she stopped him with a hand on the back of his neck, “Good thing too,” She pulled him down and met his lips with a smile.

After everyone was showered and dressed, it didn’t take long for students to gather in drones to form an unofficial celebration to commemorate Gryffindor’s victory. Naturally, true to the form of the other various parties that had occurred at Hogwarts, it was a bonfire, as apparently all things must be. Thankfully, this bonfire had been charmed by Professor Tahl to keep everyone warm within a certain perimeter. Given that it was still January, this was a relief. Still, Anakin didn’t mind the predictability of it, because his heart still soared with pride to be in Gryffindor house, alongside some of the best of them.

Especially Rex, who had essentially been their saving grace in catching the snitch so they could narrowly beat out Ravenclaw’s Bolla Ropal, who proved to be more of a force to be reckoned with than previously assumed. He’d learned not to assume a lot of things that day, including just how good his own former mentor could be when he put his heart into the sport. It was undeniable that Obi-Wan had been instrumental to Ravenclaw’s unusual success that day and his team seemed to be basking in it.

The star Keeper in question looked more outgoing than Anakin had ever seen him. He hadn’t been spending as much time with Obi-Wan thanks to the tournament, but he had to admit it was good to see him handle losing so well. It was a skill that he had to admit he didn’t have.

He, like most of the players, had bathed and switched out of his uniform and into his team jacket and a Ravenclaw t-shirt. He opted for black trousers as opposed to the sweatsuit pants that were likely given to him, but it was still the most casual he’d ever seen him. It was no secret that one of the biggest pluses of being on the Quidditch team was the perk of getting your own cool clothes.

Even for a team like Hufflepuff, who never really took off.

Breha didn’t look sour about the turnout for today either, instead she and Bail chatted amicably with Obi-Wan and Satine.

More strange wizard music blared around them and some took to dancing like Caleb and Hera, who apparently hadn’t gotten enough of it at the Yule Ball, while others like Hondo stuffed their faces with s’mores.

“Weirdly, it feels like they’re celebrating just as much as us,” He’d said to Cody, who patted him on the back. Cody, unlike everyone else, still wore his full Quidditch regalia. It seemed he was too starry eyed to make the switch and seeing how hard he’d worked for this over the years, Anakin could hardly blame him.

“Anyone who plays and enjoys the game has cause to celebrate, Skywalker,” He ruffled his hair and though Anakin would normally object as he was getting too old for such things, he couldn’t help but laugh. The happiness in the air was infectious and he was glad to have contracted it.

“Shouldn’t we be getting pictures with the trophy?” He’d really wanted to see it in person, especially after years of only catching glimpses through pictures from the Quidditch display case near the great hall. After all, Slytherin held firm custody of it all year and Ravenclaw had it the year before.

For a brief moment, Cody’s face darkened, “Because it’s not a regulation season, Ventress is claiming it’s not a legitimate win.”

“What?” Anakin and Rex both burst at the same time. That didn’t make sense. Headmaster Yoda had agreed to apply the usual amount of points to whichever team came out on top, so clearly it was viewed as official to the most important judges.

“So, they’re not giving up the trophy?” Anakin reiterated.

“Nope,” Cody grimaced.

“And… You’re alright with that?” Rex asked slowly, clearly trying to read his older brother’s face for any signs of being broken. Anakin had to admit, he’d expect Cody to freak out a lot more too. He’d been waiting for this for years and now wasn’t getting his big victory portrait with the trophy.

“We’ll get it eventually,” He said, “Windu was a Gryffindor, so I’m sure he’ll push the issue. It’s been a while since we’ve won the cup, after all.”

“You’re relying on Windu?” Anakin groaned, “Good luck.”

“He will if I harass him enough over it anyway,” Cody smirked and rested a hand on both of their shoulders, “Hey, enjoy this night. The most important trophy is the memory and satisfaction that it happened.”

From there, he went off to join Obi-Wan and Satine, who’d found themselves in the midst of a heated debate over the proper usage of Aguamenti vs Aqua Eructo. Even with how intense their points seemed to be, regardless of how menial the subject matter was to Anakin, their style of banter had changed, even if subtly, as they seemed to be poised much closer and their anger less palpable.

If anything, it almost sounded like they were flirting , even if their words didn’t quite match the tones for such a thing. Then again, Anakin knew very little about flirting to begin with. Caleb and Hera were a little more on the money with what he would expect: excessive touching, giggling, soft teasing met with compliments.

It was really gross, actually.

“I can’t believe he’s completely unbothered,” Rex echoed aloud.

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly in the business of waiting for Windu,” Anakin rolled his eyes, looking off to where the Head of Gryffindor house amicably chatted amongst the other leaders, more out of place than ever at an event that was designed to be fun.

“So, what are we going to do?”

“I appreciate the “we”, Rex.” He grinned and slung an arm around his friend’s shoulders, “Because I was going to loop you in anyway.”

“Like I didn’t already know that,” Chuckled the youngest Fett as they approached where Ventress stood with her gaggle of Slytherin followers. Shu Mai and Faro Argyus shot them scathing glares over the rims of their cups when within earshot. Even though many of the other schools intermingled with Hogwarts’ students, Slytherin remained on the outskirts as the most salty over Gryffindor’s victory.

“What do you want, Skywalker?” Sebulba crooned before Anakin could reach Ventress.

“I didn’t realize your name was Ventress,” He said.

“You want to mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.” He gritted.

“One of Slytherin or Sith sympathizers?” Anakin asked.

“Don’t bring politics into this,” He scoffed, spitting a bit on Anakin in the process, though it was almost worse that it wasn’t intentional.

“This is a chat for the big kids, Sebulba, so why don’t you move aside?” He snarked and pushed past him.

“Bold of you, seeing as you’re still a little pip squeak.” He grabbed him by the arm and twisted him back around, forcing him to look upon his long brown snout with little sharp teeth that had clearly never been brushed once in his 15 years of living.

“Did I say big? I meant relevant.” Anakin retorted, shaking him off, “Watch where you put those claws, I am a dragon wrangler, after all.”

A few snorts from the surrounding crowd seemed ready to dispute this, but no one stepped up to argue. Slytherin was clearly finding Gryffindor’s true champion a hard pill to swallow, which Anakin simply only further took in stride. It was especially damaging to them that they’d lost their precious Quidditch tournament, one that they clearly assumed they would have won.

“More like a dragon kisser, since that’s what you looked like you wanted to do,” Groff, one of Sebulba’s very unhelpful friends, cut in.

“At least it would have wanted to kiss him, unlike you foul blokes,” Rex also wasn’t on his top game in terms of taunts this evening either, it would seem.

“Thanks, Rex,” He grumbled and slipped from Sebulba’s clutches while he chastised his henchmen, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to talk to Slytherin’s actual players.”

Did he get a bit more satisfaction by further pissing Sebulba off? Absolutely. It wasn’t his fault the idiot got himself kicked off the team his first year playing. Anakin hadn’t even been around for such a stunt!

“Ventress, give up the trophy!” He demanded. “We won it fair and square!”

“Someone should have you checked for head injury, Skywalker,” Looking ever the unimpressed shrew that she was, she tapped a bony finger against her pointy chin in mock contemplation, “For you to ever believe I’d do such a thing could only be explained by near critical condition.”

“You would have liked that,” Anakin said.

“Why would you ever say that? I’ve been nothing but supportive for your victory in the tournament as of late?” She was smooth, he would give her that, and was rare to lose her temper over anything she deemed less than worthy. Instead, she sipped at her glass of punch as though it was the finest of wines and looked down at him enough to make their height difference feel like more than it was.

“That’s all for show and you know it! Just like your scam of a marriage to Obi-Wan!” He accused, “Which I see is going so well.”

She narrowed her eyes at him a fraction, “You should learn quickly not to involve yourself in other people’s business, Skywalker. You might get to keep that big head of yours a bit longer if you do.”

“My business is with the Quidditch trophy,” He said, “Which, like Obi-Wan, doesn’t belong to you!”

A few people oohed and aahed like any proper heckling crowd would, much to Ventress’ disapproval and her sharp glare silenced many of them, but not Anakin’s unwavering determination. They’d worked hard for this, dammit! And even if Cody wasn’t letting on to it, having that trophy tonight meant a lot to him. It was obvious he dreamed of it even back when he’d trained Anakin on how to play.

“Mark my words, Skywalker,” She leaned close enough for him to realize how sharp her teeth were when bore like a wild animal, “You will not get your greasy little hands on that trophy so long as I’m leader of this squad.”

She shouldn’t have been, according to the fallout of the previous year, but it seemed they never actually found her replacement.

He held her stare for a moment longer before Quinlan Vos stepped between them.

“Hey now, this was a fun day, right?” He laughed a bit in his usual whimsy. Ventress didn’t take her glare off of Anakin despite his efforts.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, a move that surely should have sent him to the grave, but surprisingly, did not. In fact, some of the tension melted away from Ventress, even if her gaze was still venomous. He placed one on Skywalker’s shoulder soon after, but the change in current did not go unnoticed. It had originally bummed Anakin out that Quinlan had chosen to support Slytherin over Gryffindor today, but he never actually took the time to wonder why.

“Walk it off,” He said to the both of them, “And Asajj, maybe you should give him the trophy. They did win, after all.”

She snapped her attention to Vos and shook off his hand with the sort of bite that Anakin would have expected to begin with. “Do not presume to understand how things work around here, Vos. This is my turf.”

And with that, she stormed away, disappearing to the end of the clearing, near the woods. No one paid it much attention, as dramatic exits were hardly unusual for some of Slytherin’s finest. Instead, everyone pretty much resumed what they were doing and cranked whatever music had been playing louder.

“Well, I tried,” Quinlan laughed lightly and shrugged at Anakin, “Good playing today, kid.”

“Thanks,” He said, “But I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve.”

“Glad to hear it. That’s the only way to best these Slytherins.” He said, “By beating them at their own game.”

“Hey, we already did it once today,” Anakin smiled, “What’s one more time?”

“It’s a shame Moteé couldn’t play today,” Sabé commented as the girls all sat with their legs stretched out over the grassy hill beneath them. All had s’mores and hotdogs on their plates and wore various representations of Gryffindor regalia, save for Rabé, of course, who still represented Slytherin house.

“I know, but she was practically vomiting toads this morning.” Cringed Eirtaé as she wiped chocolatey fingers off on her napkin.

“Poor thing,” Padmé agreed, “By the way Rex played tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if he starts soon.”

“Or they alternate.” Yané suggested and then grimaced, “Still, she’s not going to like that.”

“I’m sure she’s still happy Gryffindor won,” Her girlfriend supplied happily from Yané’s other side, still starry eyed from the victory. Between Anakin’s lead in the tournament and their win today, their entire house was practically walking on air. Even those who didn’t care too much about Quidditch were happy. They needed the school spirit.

“Of course,” Rabé said, “A bit of a pity Ventress will never give up the trophy.”

“She’s a bitch for that,” Sabé growled.

“She a bloody bitch in general, it’s Ventress,” Rabé had a particular and justifiable distaste for Slytherin’s most publicized, seeing as she’d turned her to stone the previous year. “None of us should be surprised. I’m sure Headmaster Yoda will make her give it up.”

“Speaking of the wicked witch of the eastern seaboard.” Muttered Eirtaé as Ventress cut through the crowd and stepped through the barrier designed to encase them in a comfortable temperature, and into a clearing of trees.

“Probably off to commit more human sacrifice,” Snorted Rabé.

“I should hope not,” Padmé said, “I think she’s done enough at this point.”

Strangely enough, after a few long minutes of waiting for her to reemerge, she didn’t. Instead, Quinlan Vos, though attempting to appear casual and aimless in his walk, followed her. Each girl looked at each other in equal parts confusion and curiosity.

“You don’t think…” Sabé started, meeting Padmé’s own conclusions with her own. They’d always been connected in a way few people were. As children, they used to swear they could read each other’s minds.

“It’s a horrendous thought.” Padmé agreed and then shook her head, “But anything is possible. That much we should know by now.”

“What are you two conspiring?” Saché asked. “That Vos is her next target?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Rabé said as she was the first to stand and walk down the hill, breaking through the protective bubble with considerable ease. Padmé looked both ways, assessing that they weren’t being watched, before leading the others in her wake.

“I’d hate to learn that Quinlan is actually evil,” Sighed Eirtaé.

“Gee, I wonder why that’d break your heart,” Teased Yané.

“Wouldn’t you be upset if Saché was actually partaking in the she-devil’s cult practices?”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Yané insisted, “For one thing, Saché actually knows I exist.”

“That’s a bit unnecessary, thank you.”

“Ladies, hush,” Sabé hissed, “Some of us aren’t exactly looking to be put on the menu this evening.”

Padmé had to agree with that. While spying on anyone could easily be frowned upon, spying on Ventress and getting caught was practically a death sentence on sight. At the very least, she’d probably turn all of them to stone too.

She’d be instantly caught by the likes of Windu, but that wouldn’t save Padmé or her friends.

Still, drawn by curiosity and the need to know in the event that Quinlan was up to shady dealings that could affect the tournament, she was propelled in her quest of knowing. Quietly, but swiftly, they crept up to the edge of the forest, kneeling behind some large shrubbery to remain unseen.

“I thought I told you not to speak to me in public,” Ventress said in a low voice.

“I didn’t say anything that would tip anyone off,” This voice, darker than usual, belonged to Quinlan. “I was trying to help.”

“You were butting in,” She insisted, “Which I do not need or want.”

“I’m sorry,” He said, “But you were being a bit harsh. You looked about ready to strangle the boy.”

“I was, you should have let me,” Though she didn’t sound nearly as threatening as usual. If anything, it was the closest thing Padmé had heard to humor from Ventress.

It was most unsettling.

Sabé shot Padmé a concerned glance that she could feel burning through the side of her face, but she kept listening, waiting for any indication that they were planning anything harsher than what apparently occurred earlier.

“I never took you as the type to care that much about school Quidditch.” He said.

“And you? This isn’t even your school.” She parried.

“I have my reasons,” He said. “Even if you did try to decapitate Kenobi on the pitches earlier.”

“He walked it off,” She said, a shrug in her tone, “Someone like him could use a little scare every now and then. He’s far too comfortable these days.”

“Well, you are scary,” He said.

“I thought you liked that about me.”

“Sometimes,” He admitted, “But in the right circumstances.”

“So, tell me what those are.” She said, her voice smooth like velvet and nothing like the rough tones that Ventress typically used to get what she wanted. There was a breathy quality that could only mean she was going in for the kill or...

“Well, you can strangle me if you’d like,” He said with a smile that they couldn’t see, but could hear through his words, “Bind me to you entirely.”

“Don’t mind if I do, pretty boy.”

This time, it was Padmé’s turn to shoot a shocked look to Sabé, who like all the other girls, was right there with her in incredulousness. Still, they were painfully rooted to their spot until the obnoxious sounds of wet kisses followed by deep moans caused them to scurry away, their cheeks burning brighter than their shirts.

“No, no, no , that cannot be happening.” Gagged Eirtaé once it was safe to do so.

“I caught a glimpse during our escape,” Rabé wrinkled her nose, “And you couldn’t pay me to touch that tree ever again.”

“Not a million galleons,” Asserted Yané.

“A billion.” Promised Saché, who looked a bit green.

“This… This doesn’t make any sense,” Sabé said looking at all of them, completely rid of any appetite for perhaps the rest of the year, “Vos and Ventress?”

“Shagging in the woods,” Rabé said, shaking her head, “Sad to have seen this day come upon us.”

Eirtaé grimaced, “That’s not the only thing that’s com-”

“-Stop!” Padmé held out a hand, stopping that thought before it could be finished, refusing to visualize any of the dirty details of what they’d been exposed to. She released a breath, trying to clear her thoughts of all things seedy, “I suppose it’s not too far fetched… He was showing support for Slytherin today.”

“I thought he just liked the color green,” Saché sighed.

“That’s what I was hoping,” Eirtaé said sadly.

“And weren’t they seen arguing together after the Yule Ball?” Padmé asked.

“Who doesn’t Ventress argue with?” Rabé asked.

“Not like that,” Sabé added sardonically, “Not with her tongue down someone’s throat.”

“I might be sick,” Yané clutched her stomach. Saché rubbed her back soothingly and they all moved to take a seat again on the grass.

“I guess she has been far too calm and collected over Obi-Wan and Satine getting together,” Padmé said thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her finger, “I mean, why else continue to keep it a secret from his parents?”

“That’s true,” Sabé agreed, “You’d think she’d want that stamped out.”

“But if she’s busy hooking up with someone she shouldn’t be, that’s all the more reason to remain quiet,” Rabé said, “Wow, I just never thought she even had feelings.”

“It could just be physical,” Eirtaé suggested.

“Let the dreams die, girl,” Yané sighed heavily, “And accept your life with Hogan Tinmar.”

“Oh come off it!” She scowled.

“Well, whatever is going on between them, we shouldn’t tell anyone,” Padmé said, glancing back to the cursed forest, “After all, if Obi-Wan and Satine lose this leverage, even if they don’t know they have it, that could be the end for them.”

“And we certainly don’t want that,” Saché said, “It’s about time.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Sabé said.

“I’ll drink to anything right now, I need to have that erased from my brain,” Rabé said.

“I think Hondo was trying to turn the punch into rum earlier, but had limited success,” Padmé said teasingly. “I’m pretty sure Windu put a charm on it.”

“Yeah, I’m not that desperate anyway.”

“Windu is totally going to catch us if we try to sneak off,” Rex said warily as he shot a look over to their Charms professor, “Especially after that confrontation with Ventress.”

“Nothing happened because of it,” Anakin waved him off, “And don’t worry about that.”

“What are you planning?” Rex asked suspiciously, because not only did Anakin look far too comfortable for anyone else’s peace of mind, but he seemed very sure that Windu wouldn’t catch onto their plans. Then again, Rex truly could plead ignorance in this case, since he still had no idea what those plans were.

Normally, he’d be just as fine enjoying the bonfire for what it was. Music was playing and kids danced around the large multi-color flames, food was available in the form of items best consumed when heated over a campfire, and lawn games in the form of dodge-quaffle and toss the jelly slug were offered. Unsurprisingly, the twins were ensconced in a match of Exploding Wizard Skittles.

Normally, the game didn’t explode, but that was just the Fett touch.

“Wait for it…” Anakin smiled and before Rex could even open his mouth to offer a rebuttal, a very flustered Nute Gunray came running across the field and over to Professor Windu.

There was so much commotion that Rex couldn’t hear what he’d said, but he had been able to read his gray, lipless mouth, as he anxiously relayed how a snake climbed out of the toilet in the professor’s bathroom and wound up in an unfortunate spot.

“Did you-” But once again Rex didn’t have the option to exchange words because Hondo Ohnaka’s loud laugh immediately gave him away.

“Ohnaka!” Boomed Windu and he stormed in the opposite direction of them, making his move towards seizing the squirming Weequay. Hondo was making quite a show of his escape, shooting off green and silver streamers into the air and using various other students as obstacles to be avoided.

“Come on, Rex!” Anakin grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him through the reasonably distracted crowd.

In a flourish that was no doubt somehow planned by his mischievous friend, the two young Gryffindors slipped seamlessly from the event, completely unnoticed thanks to Hondo’s eccentricism.

“How the bloody hell did you manage to plan that?” Rex asked as they hiked the big walk up and over the hill where the castle was nestled. “And how did you get Hondo to take that massive fall for you?”

“I really didn’t have to do much. I found him at the right time and just nudged him in the right direction with the prank. Gunray had just failed Hondo for his essay on protection spells.” Anakin laughed, quite pleased with himself.

“What was wrong with it?” Rex asked.

“You know, he didn’t say.” Anakin said, “Something about them having different ideas of the sort of “protection” being implied. He was pretty pissed, so I suggested he make Gunray cry about it.”

“Not sure Neimodians can cry,” Rex thought aloud.

“Still, he came pretty close, eh?”

“I’ll say,” It was Rex’s turn to laugh, “I don’t even wanna know how close that snake got to his bum.”

“There’s already a big stick up there, so what’s a snake?” Anakin asked.

The two boys laughed as they walked back into the castle as though it was their own, interrupting a few annoyed ghosts that thought they’d have the night to themselves.

“Alright, hotshot, well what next?” He asked. “We’ll never get into Slytherin’s common room without someone from Slytherin to let us in.”

Maybe Anakin should have used his newfound bribery skills to simply have Hondo let them inside. That would have been a lot less showy. Then again, neither Anakin nor Hondo did much the normal way.

“Remember when I said I had some tricks up my sleeves?” He asked coyly, slipping from the inside of his left sleeve…

“The map?” Rex gasped, his voice echoing off the stone walls around them, startling the enchanted pumpkins that were perched above them on a windowsill. “How the hell did you get that back? When the hell did you get that back? Why the hell-”

“-I think that’s enough,” Anakin held out a hand, a smirk on his lips, “I have my ways, Rex, isn’t that enough of an explanation?”

“Er, no? Absolutely not?”

“Fair,” He said after some thought and led them along their way, “Because they did a lot of rebuilding and reworking after the Maul incident last year, many of the tunnels have completely changed for safety purposes-”

“-And to likely keep you out of them,” Rex added.

“Sure, sure, but clearly, that didn’t last long,” Grinned Anakin as he kept his eyes on the map, “One thing they didn’t account for, is that just as Hogwarts updates, this map does too, unlike that other shoddy one we were using. This one was made by Palpatine, after all, and he’s about as powerful as he is old!”

“Interesting,” Rex nodded, “That doesn’t explain how you got the map. Remember? You lost it in the tunnels when you ran into Maul.”

“But I didn’t run into Maul if you recall,” He seemed quite pleased with himself about that rhyme, but only continued on, “I ran into Ventress.”

“So… Oh .” It was all becoming quite clear to Rex, “So this entire time…”

“I don’t know how she’s been making use of it,” Anakin went on, “But I think everyone can agree that it’s in much better hands with me than it is with her.”

“That’s why you confronted her.”

“I knew she had to have it on her,” He said, “If I got her angry enough, she wouldn’t have noticed a little light pick-pocketing.”

Rex had to admit, Anakin might have a bit of mischief in him, but at the very least, he was becoming a great deal smarter with his plans than he had in their first year at Hogwarts. He still shivered when he thought back to how Anakin essentially willingly wandered into what was supposed to be a sacrificial chamber for him .

“I’d ask where you learned that, but I really think it’s better I don’t know,” Rex retorted and allowed Anakin to lead them down the path to the new entryway to Slytherin’s common room. This time, it was found in a potions’ closet, which was actually unlocked.

“That doesn’t seem safe.” Rex commented passively.

“Neither do swinging staircases that could knock you off and send you to your deaths at any given second,” Anakin said, “Or a giant tree that attacks people on sight. Or a forest with-”

“-Point taken,” He said and followed Anakin through the little door behind the shelves, which was just big enough for the two of them to fit and inch their way down the very dark space. Idly, Rex realized he’d never actually been in Slytherin’s common room. It wasn’t exactly the most sought after place for him to visit, not when its occupants had a tendency to be so foul or troublesome. Even still, he found he’d much rather deal with them than those Durmstrang blokes.

They entered from the floor, actually, just beneath a very dusty gray rug that made the both of them cough hysterically. Clearly, it hadn’t been moved in quite some time.

Surprisingly, it resembled less of a dungeon than what Rex had always suspected, considering their proximity to actual dungeons, but the green reflection from the black lake cast the entire space in an eerie glow. It was too dark to see any creatures, but a twinge of fear sprung within Rex of a beady eyed shark being on the other side of the glass.

If it was even still in the lake, he reasoned.

Like their common room, they had a fireplace, though it was decorated in more ancient artifacts and regalia associated with Salazar Slytherin’s greatest triumphs. Their walls were adorned with the many Quidditch victories by House Slytherin through the years and their library was quite extensive. Judging by the layers of dust, he had doubts that they actually read much of them.

He was most surprised to see a large portrait of a cat off to the right. He squinted as he leaned in close. It didn’t have any fur and had a rather bored look on its face. Evidently, it once belonged to one of the Headmasters at Hogwarts.

The little tag on its collar read, “Madame Killer III”, which go figure for that one.

“Do you think it would be too obvious if I charmed some Gryffindor banners to spruce up the place?” Anakin asked.

“Yes,” Rex laughed, though he wouldn’t deny he enjoyed the idea of Ventress and company’s faces when they walked into a red and gold themed Slytherin common room. “Where do you reckon the trophy is hidden?”

In Gryffindor’s common room, there was a display case for the trophy to be held should they win. When it was empty, it was instead filled with pictures and plaques of the great wins of the past. Anything to improve enthusiasm. Proudly, Cody had a few pictures and awards on display in the case.

“Ventress is probably selfish enough to keep it for herself.” Anakin said thoughtfully, “But she’s not exactly team captain anymore.”

“She basically is, just not officially,” Rex said. “We ought to be quick, though. This is the last place I’d like to be caught lurking and stealing.”

“We’re not lurking, we’re perusing with the intent of reclaiming what is rightfully ours.”

“Sounds like lurking and stealing to me,” Rex said, but walked up the stone stairs that wound their way up to the bedrooms. “I don’t suppose we’ll be able to get in here. They’re supposed to be charmed.”

“We wormed our way into Ravenclaw’s.” Anakin shrugged and pushed him aside. Low and behold, he was nearly blasted backwards by the force of a strong protective charm, knocking him on his arse and on the floor. Still, the blond boy looked rather unperturbed considering he was about to have a hearty bruise on his bum.

“Well, maybe Slytherin updated their charms.” He said.

“Probably because of what happened in Ravenclaw’s.” Rex rolled his eyes. “Well, now what?”

“I find it really hard to believe that the girls would be able to just hoard the trophy,” Anakin said, “It’s a co-ed team!”

“Wait a second, you can speak snake!” Rex snapped his fingers.

“Only in dreams,” Anakin reminded him, “And really only a handful of times.”

“That’s a handful more than anyone else can.” He said, “But that’s Slytherin’s big gimmick right? Salazar Slytherin used to communicate in secret that way.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point, is that getting into the Slytherin common room is supposed to be about whispering to walls and stuff, passwords and all that, what if some of those passwords include speaking like a snake?”

“But when I spoke like that, everyone was shocked. I thought no one else could.”

“Maybe not naturally, but it’s possible they know the exact intonation of the password,” Rex pinched his chin and walked around, coming back around to the wall of quidditch portraits, noting that there was only one portrait that was completely still. It was a random sketch of Salazar Slytherin, himself, very detailed but unmoving all the same in his quidditch regalia. He couldn’t deny that it was a bit out of place amongst the rest. “Just say something, anything, in that snake language.”

“Pretty sure it has a more refined name than that, Rex.” Anakin said.

“Oh? And what is it?” He raised an eyebrow at his friend.

Anakin gave it some thought, but they both knew he nor Rex was going to come up with it, and gave up. With an exasperated sigh that Rex most certainly did not deserve out of the two of them, Anakin followed his lead and stood beside him.

“I’ve never just… Spoken like that before.” He clarified. “Intentionally.”

“In your sleep you do,” Rex said, “Sometimes, anyway.”

“You listen to me while I sleep?” Anakin wrinkled his nose.

“It’s either that or Echo and Fives’ synchronized snoring.” He said, “Why can’t any of you be bloody quiet sleepers?”

“I don’t know, I’m asleep,” Anakin said. “What should I say?”

“Anything! Just get on with it before Ventress comes back and skewers us one by one!”

Knowing that was definitely a possibility, Anakin took a deep breath and centered himself, likely reminding himself of some of the things he heard whilst asleep. Rex had to admit, more times than one, hearing the whisper of hisses was far more alarming than he led on. He always hoped they weren’t an indicator of nightmares, but Anakin always seemed quite peaceful if he checked on him.

“Ayaeehaaahssssseyythaasssseythasssssssseythahaassssehhhssss” A voice that would have been completely foreign to Rex’s had he not witnessed it a few times at night, uttered, sounding completely unlike Anakin and more like a spirit whistling through the wind. In fact, Anakin looked a bit haunted as he spoke it, like it was taking over him entirely.

He only looked away from him when he heard the sound of stone grating against each other and sure enough, the stone behind the sketched portrait began to rotate. When turned entirely, it revealed a small shelf with the House Quidditch Trophy in its place.

“Thatta boy!” Rex smacked him on the back, “What’d you say?”

“Open Sesame, I think.” Anakin shrugged.

“And Slytherins are supposed to be quick,” He rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”

Obi-Wan had to admit that it was nice getting a night off from research and homework and losing sleep over the meaning behind the blank golden parchment. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever suspect that relief would come from a quidditch-related outing. Not when the previous six years had involved dreading such events.

Still, it was rather impossible to deny that it was a beautiful night to celebrate hard-earned victories amongst friends quite literally encased in their own bubble of merriment. Ventress wasn’t enacting torture on any of the other happy students, Cody was free to speak on as much quidditch as his heart desired, and Satine was sat between his legs while toasting a marshmallow over the presently purple campfire.

All was well.

He sighed contentedly, intent on basking in the glow of this moment for days to come, especially should things get dark again. With Dooku’s recent silence, that darkness seemed imminent and foreboding, but Obi-Wan could not give it any care for right now.

All was somehow made even better when Satine carefully raised the now-golden marshmallow up towards him, quite literally waving it around on a stick for the taking.

“For me? You shouldn’t have!” He said happily as he plucked the fluffy treat free from its skewer.

It certainly helped his spirits that such fine sweets were included. There was a simplicity to s’mores that he could appreciate, particularly because they involved such essential tenets to the dessert world all in one basic package of: chocolate, marshmallow, graham cracker. Add heat and it was immeasurable gooey goodness.

“Get any of that marshmallow in my hair and that will be the end of that, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Satine craned her head to look at him, a stern look on her face that could only draw a laugh from him. He would never dare, but couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t accidentally spilled worse on her in the past.

“Of me or us?” He asked cheekily.

In response, she grabbed his face with the hand not still holding her marshmallow stick, squishing his cheeks lightly between her thumb and fingers. Though she was mocking appraisal for his wit, he could feel no fear nor retribution due to the mirth in her eyes.

“Both,” She laughed a bit at the end of it, clearly finding his face in this position to be quite funny, before releasing him promptly to place another marshmallow on the tip of her stick.

“Oh good,” He said, not quite giving up on the schtick, “Because I needed a bit of clarity on the subject, seeing as it would involve me haunting you for the remainder of your days.”

“I see,” She pondered that thought, “Yes, that would be quite terrible. You’d be a very annoying ghost.”

“Are you calling me annoying?” He laughed.

“Yes,” She deadpanned before breaking into a coy smile, “But in all fairness, it would be quite difficult to get anything done with you hovering around trying to debate me at every turn.”

“Is that not how we are now?” He asked.

“I can silence you with a kiss as a corporeal being,” She smirked, “As a ghost, I’d be left to listen to all your incessant thoughts on whether or not cavemen were wizards.”

“There is plenty of proof supporting the claim that-” But she’d proved her point and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, one too swift for any prying eyes to catch wind of. He delighted in the fact that she tasted like chocolate and marshmallows, yet was resolute to know that he found a new way to appreciate s’mores. One that he had to admit he liked more.

“That is a very unfair advantage,” He countered.

“Really? Because I’d argue we’re very equally split,” She said, “You could easily do the same to me.”

“I don’t find you annoying in the slightest,” He raised an eyebrow at her, “Not even when you find yourself on your pacifistic tirades.”

“Tirades, my dear, Ben?” She chuckled, “Well, far be it from me to subject you to such anger, not when you make me feel so sweet.”

“You’re just sucking up because you called me annoying.” He shook his head.

“Au contraire, have you ever considered that I like you because you’re annoying?” She tapped his knee aimlessly and he smiled, lacing their fingers together. “Because I do.”

He pretended to give that some thought, completely unaware of what anyone was getting up to around them. It was as though within this temperature sealed bubble, there was another bubble and it was reserved for just the two of them.

“I suppose I can live with that,” He raised her fingers to his lips, “With the condition that you promise never to relent on that stance.”

“I haven’t so far,” She said, leaning back so her head brushed against his chest, “And with seven years down, I quite like those odds.”

“I do too,” He said softly.

Any sense of peace that had been gathered between the two of them had effectively been shattered by the raucous chants and cheers that came from Gryffindor house when none other than Anakin Skywalker took a bold stance atop a large tree stump to wave the Quidditch House Cup proudly in the air.

“Something tells me Ventress didn’t give that up willingly,” Satine murmured as she disentangled herself from Obi-Wan to stand up. He followed without question in case prefect support was necessary and knowing how Slytherin could react to this, it very well might be.

Cody was in the heart of it, unsurprisingly, and had effectively been lifted by his team to stand beside Anakin on his makeshift stage. It was practically a sea of red that surrounded them and it was nearly impossible to hear what Anakin was cheering, but judging by the movement of his lips, it was something along the lines of “Gryffindor! The true champions!” and was devoured by the crowd.

Obi-Wan would have felt joyful and participated with the excitement had Ventress not been practically breathing fire from where she stood off to the side, appearing a bit disheveled, but angry no less.

“And now!” Anakin called, his voice suddenly loud enough to be heard, likely in thanks to an amplifying charm, “I present this trophy to the person who deserves it the most. Without them, I wouldn’t even know what quidditch is, let alone be part of a winning team. So, I’m proud we did him right today. So, I think it’s high time this be in the hands of the person who earned it.”

He’d shot a rather scathing look towards Ventress, who only scowled more with arms crossed tightly enough to cut off blood flow. He’d be worried if it was anyone else but Ventress. A few others, like Krell and Sebulba, were also a bit salty, but most, even the majority of Slytherin house, were on board.

“Our captain, the best of Gryffindor…”

“My big brother, Cody!” Rex completed for him, thrusting his older brother’s arm in the air with the influx of cheers and screams from the crowd. This time, Obi-Wan and Satine both participated in full, like they were excitable school girls catching a glimpse of a celebrity. Then again, Cody was bigger than a celebrity to them. He was their best friend and Anakin was right. It did belong in his hands.

Cody, for his part, seemed a bit dazed, as though in absolute shock that any of this was happening, even after years of hard work and dedication to the sport. He’d essentially centered his entire life to his squad and his love for it and them. Obi-Wan sincerely hoped that it was everything he’d ever wanted, because he deserved it and so much more.

“I…” He was at a loss for words, staring in both parts adoringly and in disbelief at the trophy in his hands, likely catching a glimpse of his own reflection as he’d always dreamed to. For a moment, Obi-Wan thought Cody might cry.

The crowd fell just quiet enough to allow for their captain to speak and it was good to see at least most of his house backing him again. Anakin’s own verbal support had likely been helpful in cementing that loyalty, but either way, it was about time everyone saw Cody for what he was: the truest of them all.

“I don’t know what to say, honestly,” Cody admitted, a bit of uncharacteristic self consciousness creeping in, “I believed this day would come, because I believed in my team, but while I always dreamed of what it would feel like, it was nothing like this.”

He looked out at each of them, starry-eyed and slowly gaining vigor with each second, “But what made it worth it, what made it amazing, was playing along the best bloody squad in the entire world!”

That earned him hoots and hollers from no doubt said squad, including Rex and Anakin, who still stood on either side of him.

“Some of which were my blood, my brothers, my family,” He said, finding each of them, “Who will always be my lifelong teammates.”

“Yeah!” Fives or maybe it was Echo cheered, eliciting a wry smile from Cody.

“Just because you’re done with me on the school field doesn’t mean you’re done at home.”

“Boo!” The other twin called and everyone laughed.

“And for my other friends, who always supported me, regardless of house and regardless of how I never shut the hell up about it.” Obi-Wan and Satine exchanged a knowing glance, boiling over with happiness and Satine, a bit misty eyed.

“I love you guys,” He said with a grin and looked at the trophy again, “And I’m honored to house this for a year and look forward to seeing it stay with Gryffindor for quite some time, even without me.”

And that, for some reason, was quite sad to imagine. They all knew they were graduating, but Obi-Wan couldn’t quite picture Gryffindor without Cody. Yes, Fives and Echo and Rex would still be happy to take up the mantle, but it suddenly dawned on Obi-Wan that there would always be a new rendition of students, each who brought their own special contribution to tradition and to living history.

Hogwarts would always go on, well beyond their time.

But Cody didn’t look sad, he looked emboldened and overwhelmed by the joy on this night.

“And I promise you all, this won’t be the only trophy you see in my hands, just you wait.” He said with a slow nod, earning the largest amount of applause of all.

“I’m holding him to that,” Obi-Wan said.

“Yes, you and me both,” Satine grinned back at him, wiping away stray tears from her eyes, “But for now, I’d say he earned hugs for this one.”

“Why are you up so early?” A groggy voice startled Rex from quietly (or so he thought) wrapping his winter layers around his body. He turned, spotting Anakin, whose head was peeping through the curtains of his four poster bed. His friend’s eyes were still droopy and full of sleep, hardly recovered from the late night they’d all had thanks to the big Gryffindor win.

No, the festivities certainly hadn’t ended at the bonfire, at least not for their house. Windu had been specific in ordering them all back to their common rooms, but he was certain it wasn’t just coincidence that he hadn’t bothered to come check that they were all asleep.

Maybe, the authoritarian Charms professor was starting to come around.

“Er… Just taking a morning walk to visit my brother,” It was the truth, but not the entirety of it. Rex didn’t like keeping secrets, not from his best mate, but it was for the best that Anakin not have himself dragged into more trouble. It seemed he was finally getting a bit of a break this year.

“Oh, I can come if you want,” He said sleepily and moved to push his curtains the entire way aside.

“No!” Rex hissed, far too harshly, causing Anakin to freeze in place, eyes wide and definitely a bit more awake. “I mean, it’s early, and I think he just wanted to talk about brother stuff.”

He hadn’t meant to make that sound so exclusive, because Anakin flinched a bit at the dismissal, trying as he might to hide his disappointment, “Okay, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s completely fine!” He waved him off, still trying to keep his voice soft to avoid waking up any of the other boys. Luckily, the festivities had run into the very early morning and many were out cold. “I’ll be back soon. We’re just getting tea.”

“I hate tea,” Anakin grumbled and then nodded a bit more at ease, “Well, we’re still going to investigate that symbol from my parchment later, right?”

“Of course,” Rex nodded, happy to be able to make an honest promise in the midst of his evasive escape. “I’ll meet up with you and Padmé later.”

“Did she seem a bit strange last night?” Anakin whispered before Rex could free himself from their bedroom, “Like, after we got the trophy? She seemed a bit shaken.”

“I think everyone was in new form last night after that win,” Rex said with a shrug, “But we can ask her about it later.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” He yawned, “Well, enjoy your tea time with Ninety-Nine. I’m going to get some more sleep if it’s all the same to you.”

Rex would have happily done the same if he hadn’t already promised to watch Rotta the Hutt while Ninety-Nine cleaned the classrooms in preparation for school on Monday. It was the only real time allotted for it this week, since the castle was still in full swing on Saturday.

There had been an unexpected snow storm in the wee hours of the morning, which completely covered the front lawn and all the walkways, not giving enough time for Ninety-Nine or anyone else to perform a charm to clear the path just yet. This only added to Rex’s delay as he trudged through the mess discontentedly. However, he was anything but sleepy at this point as the cold was biting at his cheeks every second of the way.

The sun had just barely crept above the horizon, causing an orange shadow to brim beyond the castle and appear almost angelic if it weren’t so damn chilly.

He’d expected to find Ninety-Nine inside with the baby, but was surprised to see his eldest brother bundled up and with a scraper in his hand as he painstakingly removed something from the sides and windows of his house. From a distance, it looked like an awfully feeble practice of snow and ice removal, but when he got within a proximity where the icy wind no longer blinded his sight, the picture became clear.

“What happened?” He shrieked, appalled at the sheer amount of eggs that were frozen solid to Ninety-Nine’s once pristine exterior. It looked like an onslaught had occurred, pelting just about every square inch of the surface and solidifying overnight. Knowing how much care Ninety-Nine had put into making this hut feel like a home, Rex felt all of the cold melt right off of him, instead replaced by a burning sense of pure rage that sustained him.

“Either a really big chicken stormed through here or someone played a joke,” He sighed, a puff of cold air encircling his head. He was more resigned than anything else, but Rex couldn’t really bring himself to be humorous about this.

“Who did this?” He demanded, storming around the house to inspect for more damage beyond just the eggs.

“I don’t know, I slept right through it somehow, but it really doesn’t matter, Rex,” Ninety-Nine said, leaning against his snow shovel to take a breather, “What’s done is done and it’s not like I can have Headmaster Yoda or any of the other professors come investigate.”

Looking through the small window to see Rotta happily sucking on a rubber duck on the couch, the reasoning why became very apparent.

“Arseholes,” He cursed under his breath.

“Clearly, some kids had a bit too much fun last night,” Ninety-Nine shrugged, placing a hand on his shoulder, “There’s nothing to get worked up over. There are bigger risks at play. I’m just glad they didn’t find Rotta in the process.”

“Yeah, I guess,” He said, but couldn’t wrap his head around why anyone would choose Ninety-Nine’s little house as a target for a mean spirited prank. Not anyone from Hogwarts anyway. There had always been an unspoken respect for those who took care of the school, as it was considered bottom-tier to mistreat them.

Then, it was as if a spotlight had been shown on the answer in the snow. He bent over, retrieving a silver rectangular belt buckle from where it had previously been covered in snow. Dusting it off, he could make out the unmistakable dual headed eagle that was often synonymous with a symbol used in Tsarist Imperial Russia.

“Krell,” He said in a low voice, grasping the buckle so tight in his gloved fist that it very easily could have punctured through material or bent at his will- which ever came first. Rex didn’t care in the slightest, only cultivated more disdain for the contemptible Besalisk. He doubted he did this alone, thinking back to how Krell’s Durmstrang friends had watched and laughed when he slid snide insults towards Ninety-Nine, thinking they were all the better when it only proved how weak they really were.

“Rex?” Ninety-Nine shook him from his daze, a concerned look on his wrinkled face.

“Krell did this,” He spat, “I told you he wasn’t going to stop! He’s just going to keep tormenting you! We’ve got to do something!”

“He’s a child,” Ninety-Nine shook his head, “I will not be enacting revenge or buying into a prank war with a child.”

“He’s a seventh year! Very nearly an adult and he can’t just keep getting away with this!” He argued. Out here, in the snow, their voices were practically drowned out and he didn’t care if it carried all the way up to Headmaster Yoda’s tower.

“And I’ll happily relay what happened to Headmaster Tiure so he can be dealt with,” Ninety-Nine said, “But really, no harm was done. Rotta is safe, I’m safe, and there’s nothing that a simple schoolyard bully can do to break my spirit.”

“As if Ziro is going to give him detention!” Scoffed Rex, “Why do you think he transferred to that school? Because there’s no consequences for those pigheaded pricks! They do as they please and their Headmaster is a perfect example! He was gambling on Anakin and Obi-Wan’s lives in the tournament and nothing can be done about it!”

“I think you’re generalizing a little bit there, Rex,” Ninety-Nine said calmly, “I’ve met quite a few students from Durmstrang who were quite nice.”

“Probably faking it,” He said, “They’re the Slytherin of the wizarding schools: always up to something.”

“And I’ve met plenty of good-hearted Slytherin students as well,” He narrowed his eyes at him, “I must say, I understand why you’re upset and I don’t disagree that Ziro is shady, but I do not appreciate this side of you.”

“What side? The honest side?” Laughed Rex, “Because that’s how I see it!”

“The prejudiced side!” Ninety-Nine snapped and he’d never seen his usually relaxed brother so stern, “Our father did not raise us to have preconceived notions about anyone based on where they come from.”

“He hardly raised me at all,” Rex shook his head, pushing his way through the front door, “Whatever, you can lay down all you want about this, but we have to do something to prevent them from seeing Stinky! You’ll get arrested for something I’m pretty sure Durmstrang is responsible for.”

“Why would Durmstrang steal their own Minister’s son?” He asked.

“Because… I haven’t figured that part out yet, but why would anyone from Hogwarts?” Rex asked, “That would be the stupidest crime ever.”

“I’d argue that stealing a child for any reason is foolish and evil,” Ninety-Nine deduced.

“Yeah, well so is picking someone else while they’re down.” He said and whether it angered Ninety-Nine or not, he would ensure that eggs would not be the only thing cracking around here.

It was a rather boring morning without Rex around. Anakin had failed to fall back asleep after his friend had gone off to Ninety-Nine’s hut. Perhaps it was a still lingering, faded memory of a nightmare or simply the light streaming through the window, but hanging around the dormitory didn’t seem so appealing.

The common room was always quiet in the mornings, most students aiming to get as much sleep as they could before breakfast. Gryffindors as a collective usually tended towards staying up later, whether it was because they started some sort of tournament or were frantically trying to finish procrastinated essays. Anakin was really no different. But on the occasion when he woke early and couldn’t find sleep again, he didn’t mind sitting on the couch and paging through a few of his well worn comics.

His few Spiderman comics were practically falling apart at the seams for how much abuse they’d been given, being dragged all over the place ever since he had the ability to read. Still he refused to part with them. Every time Spiderman, or rather Peter Parker returned home to his Aunt May it reminded him of someone else . And he still missed her. An unending feeling of a broken heart that he longed to fix, if anyone would actually do anything about it.

In fact, that was a big inspiration to doing this stupid tournament in the first place right? To bring some awareness to his mother’s situation. Yet the press clearly was just as unbothered as the ministry seemed to be. Most in fact had stopped even looking at him with pity and although he certainly appreciated it, had they forgotten? Had they forgotten that he was still missing a rather large piece of his heart that had been stolen and hidden away somewhere?

He turned a page in his comic, Spiderman was sneaking out again to save the city. They probably had forgotten, after all, who was Shmi Skywalker to them? Who was she to anyone else besides Anakin? She’d kept them away from the wizarding world and if she had any friends besides Qui-Gon he’d never found them.

He was jarred from his reading, his thinking really, by tired heavy steps coming down from the boys dormitory. Half asleep and still donning his Quidditch robes, Cody appeared trudging towards the portrait hole. He likely wouldn’t even have noticed Anakin if he hadn’t shifted on the couch, the movement catching the chaser’s eyes even as they were mostly still shut.

“Anakin? It’s a bit early isn’t it?” He mumbled, voice nearly gone from all the shouting yesterday.

“Rex woke me up when he was getting ready to head to Ninety Nines-” Cody’s eyes widened just slightly, like Anakin had revealed something that he shouldn’t have, “Anyways I couldn’t go back to sleep. But I’m surprised to see you up, I thought you wouldn’t sleep at all,” Cody had, in fact, still been dancing on top of a table by the time Anakin excused himself for the night.

“I’m supposed to meet Kenobi,” He ran a hand down his face, “You didn’t go with Rex?”

“No he said it was brother stuff, didn’t seem to want me there…” Anakin tried not to let it get to him. He knew Rex didn’t mean anything by it, probably just wanted a chance to chat with his brother alone.

“Oh good, good,” Cody said distractedly, before ducking through the portrait, “Don’t make friends with Ravenclaws who think it fit to meet so damn early,” He warned and with a roll of his eyes he was gone.

Anakin shrugged, not something he had to much worry about, his best friend was a Gryffindor after all. Though he still found that Padmé had a bit of similar talent at getting him up and working at a time where he would most certainly prefer to be at breakfast. Today at least, they hadn’t planned to meet until at least a few hours afterwards.

There was a tapping on the window and Anakin turned to see Artoo peck at the window expectedly. Anakin jumped up and popped open the latch quickly. Artoo swooped around the room before dropping himself down on the couch and sticking a leg out to Anakin who raised an eyebrow.

“Artoo? Is that the prophet? I’m pretty sure I don’t pay for that…” His owl just gave him a firm look and waited until Anakin grabbed the rolled up parchment. Artoo then moved, a few flaps of the wings took him towards the still burning fire. Anakin didn’t bother to watch him make himself at home and instead opened the paper with a frown. He was greeted by a picture of him, hair slicked back and in horrible, uncomfortable dress robes from a Kenobi summer party that he’d attended. He was quite sure no one had taken his picture there so it was a bit off putting to see grace the front page.

“Anakin Skywalker,” it said in bold letters atop the page, “Who is he really?”

“Who am I?” Anakin sat further up, still staring, “They didn’t ask me!” He hadn’t received even an invitation to an interview in a couple weeks and none of the ones he’d gone to were for the prophet.

“Anonymous sources speak the truth,” He read aloud quietly.

Receiving such a surprisingly open and honest letter about the young champion Anakin Skywalker was not what I expected on an early Friday morning, but the work of a journalist truly never stops. I wasn’t to believe it without searching for the truth myself, but everything checked out and although our source remains quite anonymous we assure you they are truthful in their letter.

Anakin Skywalker grew up above a seedy muggle bar in London with his mother, Shmi Skywalker, who seemed to have renounced the ways of the wizarding world for a supposedly quiet life with her son. Anakin however it seemed was never suited for such a quiet life and instead allowed trouble to follow him quite far and quite often.

It is true in fact that upon his first year at Hogwarts he released the wild and strange Zillo Beast from under the school. Yet was easily kidnapped by the notorious Dooku. Later he broke into the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic and discovered that he may in fact be the Chosen One.

But what sort of Chosen One is the type to bring so much trouble onto those around him? But we’re talking about more than childhood pranks such as putting some trick soap into the girls bathroom. Our anonymous source says that when Maul stormed Hogwarts that fateful and tragic day, it was Anakin who went to face him. It was said he didn’t last too long in the fight if it wasn’t for others coming to his aid, notably his former mentor and fellow champion Obi-Wan Kenobi, would the chosen one truly be here with us.

Despite being a third year he allowed his fellow students along with himself break the rules in order to enter into such a dangerous tournament as the Triwizard Tournament surely is. Our source confirms that several younger students were able to surpass the barrier and place their names inside. What if another young student had been chosen, would they have lasted so long or would their death have brought just another tragedy to Hogwarts?

Anakin blanched, they were what? Blaming him for stuff he couldn’t control? He hadn’t released the Zillo Beast on purpose . Not really . It was that or get murdered by Dooku and he really didn’t have to think twice about his options. And Maul? He… well he had gotten in over his head, but he wasn’t the type to sit back and let anyone pick the school apart piece by piece. His heart still panged when he thought of Qui-Gon, but Obi-Wan had assured him always that it wasn’t his fault… Obi-Wan.

Anakin turned the page and skimmed another section of the article. There was one more picture, it was of Anakin in his pajamas reading comics in the Kenobis’ massive library.

Anakin may have fallen into life with the Kenobis since, but he certainly hasn’t let go of his more muggle upbringings. Pictured here in a one piece pajama set of a muggle superhero and reading picture books of similar origin. He’s also been spotted playing with action figures in his new bedroom. Is this the work of traumatic experiences or is this simply a boy, not yet grown up?-

Anakin dropped the paper, face pink in embarrassment, as he stared blankly across the room. He turned back to the paper, skimming it even quicker. Words flickered past his eyes with hardly any time to acknowledge them.

Skywalker still finds himself sleeping with stuffed animals-

When he’s not doing schoolwork, which is often, you can find him asleep in the library.

Generally unmotivated, hard to believe he managed so well in the first task.

The article ended, the same way it began, “So who is Skywalker really? A child playing at a hero, perhaps.-” He didn’t bother to read the other closing remarks.

He sat there, listening as the clock on the mantel ticked quietly and the fire crackled and the paper in his hands slipped to the floor.

It left him more with the question of why than the question of who.

Why was he being torn down, his embarrassing quirks aired for all to see, to read? His eyes drifted towards the comic sitting next to him on the couch and he felt that warm self-conscious feeling burning through him as he quickly stuffed them back in his school bag. What did it matter that he still played with action figures or liked to keep his food separate on his plate? What did his distaste for sand have to do with how well he would do in the tournament?

The article was written like he was a child who didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew exactly what he was doing! Had he or had he not come out on top in the first task! He was winning! He was in the lead! He’d just helped win his house the Quidditch cup too. He’d grown a lot from his first year; they all had to see that.

But he didn’t have to ask who had submitted such delicate information. Because the answer was still clear enough. Palpatine’s voice echoed in his head at the very thought. Obi-Wan Kenobi, his own mentor, had turned against him.

Anakin looked back at the picture of him at Kenobi manor. He didn’t like what he was perhaps considering, that his mentor was the anonymous source. But it was true that he wasn’t sure who else had so much information on him. Rex surely did, but that didn’t explain the picture and he didn’t talk much about what had happened with Maul. But Obi-Wan knew because he was there .

Obi-Wan had practically been following him around all summer, he would know all of Anakin’s embarrassing habits, he knew well enough now about Anakin’s comics and he’d explained his favorite TV shows. He racked his brain hoping he was wrong, but could come to no other conclusion.

Obi-Wan was playing the game for real now, playing dirty and Anakin was surprised, hurt, and angry. With a clenched fist around the prophet he snatched up from the floor he stormed out of the portrait hole.

The halls were clear and any ghosts lingering around this morning seemed to see his expression and flee. It saved him valuable energy that he was saving to possibly ram his fist into Kenobi’s surely smug face. He passed the boys bathroom and ignored Cody’s rather horrendous cover of some pop song Anakin wasn’t familiar with as it drifted out from the showers. It was probably good the other 7th year wouldn’t be present during this conversation.

The library doors were shut, but Anakin didn’t bother to knock, just pulled them open, if Madam Nu let Obi-Wan in at all hours she would have to do the same for all students. It was only fair.

And there he was. His former mentor sitting serenely at his usual table pouring over some ancient, musty tome that likely hadn’t seen the light of day since even Yoda was born. He looked relaxed and at peace and that made Anakin feel even better about shattering an otherwise perfect morning. He stomped up and tossed the prophet onto the table, face still heated and hands shaking.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan blinked slowly in surprise, eyebrows coming together, “What are you-”

“You know when I told you not to help me out with the tournament, I didn’t think you’d resort to some stupid blackmail!” Anakin spat.

“Blackmail?” Obi-Wan’s eyes drifted to the prophet and started skimming immediately.

Anakin scooped the paper back up and shook it towards the other boy's face, “Don’t act like you don’t know! There’s no one else it could have been!” He hissed, tossing the paper at Obi-Wan, who caught it and with one more surprised and cautious glance at Anakin turned back towards the text and read it at a speed that really shouldn’t be possible.

“Anakin, I-” Obi-Wan frowned looking up at him in concern, “You think I did this?”

“Look here,” Anakin pointed at the picture from their summer party, “And here,” He ran his fingers across the bit about Maul and the bit about his action figures, “And here and here and here!” Anakin pointed at every bit of personal information he could find.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started, his tone just at the edge of lecturing.

“Don’t ‘Anakin’ me!” He growled, “After all the help I did getting rid of your embarrassing interview, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Anakin, I didn’t have anything to do with this article, it was likely-” Obi-Wan started with infuriating calmness.

Anakin scowled, “They really were right about you, you are more like Ventress and those slimy Slytherins than I thought.”

Despite the slightly nauseous look that flashed across Obi-Wan’s face he continued with calmness, “It’s just an average smear campaign, they try to undermine you with information they shouldn’t have about you,” He sighed, “Pretty much all purebloods get an expose done on them at one time or another-”

“So what you thought you’d teach me another dumb lesson this way?” Anakin picked up the prophet again, glaring at the words as if he could catch them on fire.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to prepare you for one of these,” Obi-Wan spoke softly as if Anakin was some spooked creature, “They prepared a similar one on me my fourth year, I thought you might have gotten to avoid the whole thing, being in the tournament and all.”

“I’m not hearing a no,” Anakin huffed.

“Anakin be serious!” Obi-Wan scoffed, a spark of irritation glinting in his own eyes, “If you don’t let it get to you it’ll go away in a weeks time-”

“Oh boy,” Anakin rolled his eyes, “A whole week.”

“I’m only saying-”

“I think you’ve said plenty ,” Anakin balled up the prophet and stuffed it in his bag.

“I haven’t said anything at all,” Obi-Wan gave him a sharp look, “And you should know that I’d never betray your trust like that,” He said as his eyes softened just a touch.

“Do I?” Anakin meant to say it with more force, more anger, but it came out sounding small, unsure. So before he could hear another response he spun on his heels and hurried out of the library, ignoring his former mentor- former friend’s calls behind him.

Obi-Wan was stressed to say the least. The next task was only weeks away and he seemed no closer to finding the answer to the stupid golden scroll than he was to be passing his NEWTs with flying colors. He’d been kept afloat largely by the happy feeling that seemed to flood out every negative thought whenever he was near his girlfriend . Even he could tell though that the spell was starting to wane. Not that his affection for Satine had lessened at all, it would always be the part of him that burned the brightest. But instead it was simply reality checking in to remind him that his future and quite possibly his survival hung in the balance.

“Mate, it’s too damn early for this,” Which is in fact why he’d invited Cody to join him in the library this morning. He winced, a bit of guilt swirled through his chest as he took in Cody’s haggard expression; he doubted his friend had gotten much sleep after the tournament win. Cody may have been doing his level best to scrub the sleep out of his eyes with a damp towel, but Obi-Wan still felt the need to apologize.

“Ah Cody,” He started, as his friend dropped into the seat across from him, “So sorry to ask you here so early-”

“Ugh it’s fine,” Cody complained, pulling a wrinkled shirt out of his bag and wrangling it over his head, “I’m late, I should be the one apologizing, I did promise to be here.”

“Only by a few minutes,” Obi-Wan added unhelpfully, “And really it’s best you were, Anakin was just here-”

“Anakin?” Cody raised an eyebrow, “Saw him in the common room before I left, but he looked pretty occupied reading those picture books he’s been showing Rex.”

“There’s been a bit of gossip released about him in the papers,” Obi-Wan frowned, “I tried to tell him it was a standard affair, I mean you remember fourth year-”

“Mate, this kind of stuff isn’t normal to us ‘regular folk’,” Cody was giving him that look again. The one that said ‘Mate wake up, you’re rich and your family’s infamous.’ Obi-Wan fought the urge to hide behind his textbook. He was done hiding.

“I’ll have to talk to him again,” Obi-Wan sighed, “I should have warned him, when he entered the tournament, or perhaps when the prophecy was exposed.”

“Or when your parents decided they needed another ward?” Cody prompted.

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan had done his best to keep an eye on his parents' relationship with Anakin, but he could only do so much in that house.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Cody brushed the whole thing off. He had that ability, to push away whatever was weighing on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, “You don’t always get it right with brothers, but that’s when you just make up, preferably over a nice Quidditch match, but I’m sure talking it out will work just as well for a bookworm like you.”

“Thank you Cody,” He was hard pressed to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“So, what’s the reason for meeting so early? I hope you’re not submitting me to reading more dull books,” Cody rested his head on his hand and Obi-Wan simply closed his textbook and instead pulled out a piece of parchment.

“Of course not,” He scoffed, “Satine would be mad as a cut snake if we were to start reading without her.”

“Aw, young love,” Cody snickered, “I’ll be sure to tell her you think she looks like a snake.”

“Shut up,” Obi-Wan refused to take the bait and instead dipped his quill in ink, ignoring the feeling of warmth that was slowly creeping up his neck, “Plus this isn’t about something as horrendously boring as reading ,” He tried and failed at mimicking Cody.

Cody laughed, “Now you’re speaking my language, what took you so long?”

“Well to be honest?” Obi-Wan tapped his quill anxiously on his fingers, “The threat of imminent death.” Where Cody had such a gift to bring the spirits in a room up, Obi-Wan often had quite the opposite, plunging the room into uncomfortable silence, “Of course I believe that knowledge is the ultimate power, I wouldn’t be a Ravenclaw if I didn’t,” He tried to bring back a bit of lightheartedness into the room, but Cody didn’t bite.

“It’s just that with the second task coming up,” Obi-Wan was forced to continue, “I thought that perhaps, focusing a bit more on strength of the physical kind might help me last long enough in any situation to think my way out of it.”

Obi-Wan had been thinking about this for a few weeks now actually. It was a sound plan, he thought. If he could simply run fast enough or climb far enough, he’d survive long enough to come up with a plan. He knew that Satine would hate this line of thought and he didn’t like it much himself, but with the days rapidly leaving him, he decided it might be best to start the discussion before it was too late.

Cody didn’t seem to like this plan much if his silence was any indication. His eyebrow twitched angrily and he crossed his arms over his chest, “You’re not telling me you’re giving up?”

Obi-Wan shook his head so quickly he thought it would send him into a dizzy spell, “Heavens no!” That wasn’t the idea of this at all, “I plan on redoubling my efforts with Satine as well, and honestly I’m sure Professor Gunray wouldn’t even notice if I didn’t show up for his class.”

“Now I’m sure you’re ill,” Cody was giving him a warning look.

“Cody please,” Obi-Wan set his quill down and crossed his own arms, “I’m covering my bases nothing more. With or without your help.”

“Oh I’ll help,” Cody huffed, “But we’re already doing workouts, what did you intend to be your plan here?”

“Honestly, I was hoping you had some ideas,” Obi-Wan picked his quill back up, “I tend to yield to the experts.”

Cody frowned, but more in the way that he was thinking, than in disapproval, “Alright,” He gestured for the quill and parchment, “I’ll work on it, your only job is to be committed to what I give you.”

Obi-Wan more than happily relinquished his writing utensils, “Perhaps I can do something to help?” Obi-Wan spoke after a moment of silence, “Did you finish your DADA essay?”

“I’m not letting you do my work for me,” Cody didn’t bother looking up, “I don’t need to be bought you know.”

“I never said I would,” Obi-Wan argued, “But I could edit it perhaps or something else if you’d prefer-”

“Kenobi,” Cody rolled his eyes, “It’s fine. Have you seen the assignments in DADA? It’s the same as our third year, I practically copied my old essay. That’s what everyone else did.”

“That’s not a terrible idea,” Obi-Wan sighed.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t do the same,” Cody looked up at him then, hand paused mid writing and eyebrow raised, “It’s the exact same lesson plan.”

“Truthfully I haven’t started yet,” It clearly wasn’t the answer Cody was hoping for as his best mate put down the quill rather forcefully and gave a hard stare across the table.

“Well let’s both get to work then shall we?” Cody waved a hand towards him and Obi-Wan just stared at him a moment more before dragging out his third year DADA textbook and some more parchment.

They fell into silence as both of them scratched away at the parchment. The sun rose as they worked, going from just peaking over the horizon to revealing itself from behind a rather towering hill. Obi-Wan tried his best to be focused on his paper, but his mind continued to wander. It wasn’t often he found himself so uninterested in a topic, but he knew all about boggarts.

Though certainly interesting at the time of reading about them, they were just mysterious enough that without a lot of time and study there wasn’t anything new there to discover. They clearly reacted to your own fears as a defense mechanism to make them seem powerful, but were actually quite harmless. He’d had a few unfortunate run-ins in his own home. Not something he was really looking to document anyways.

He found his eyes wandering around the bookshelves around them, comforting as always though he’d read every title in the area. It was like his mind was begging for something a little more stimulating, he couldn’t really blame it. As he glanced towards the rest of the library he caught a flash of black and gold as a Hufflepuff entered his cone of vision. Her black hair fell forward to block her face, but by the way she was clutching at her textbook she must be worried about something.

He sat up further to watch as she made her way across the library before disappearing from his sight. Something about it was suspicious, not that he alone owned the rights to the library, but Sunday mornings were often unintentionally reserved for him.

“What?” Cody prompted drawing Obi-Wan’s attention back to where Cody had turned to watch him.

“It’s probably nothing…” Obi-Wan started, but he still felt himself stand. Whether it was for his own desperate pursuit of knowledge of any kind or general concern he still moved, “I’ll just be a moment.”

“Kenobi-” But Obi-Wan moved quickly and quite easily out of earshot.

Hogwarts library was large, and Obi-Wan was quite sure it expanded on its own when new shelves were needed, but Madam Nu would neither confirm or deny his theory, only saying he ought to find out for himself. Still he knew where every table ought to be and where students were likely to hang out, so he followed the most obvious path. It didn’t take him long to catch up to the Hufflepuff and he placed himself easily behind a shelf so he could peer through and observe without being spotted.

There were 3 students, the Hufflepuff girl, an older looking Slytherin boy, and a Ravenclaw sullustan named Tyanna.

“I’m not sure about this Stridus,” The girl spoke, “I’m all for pushing our studies further, but maybe we should start smaller.”

“No better place to start than the top wouldn’t you say!” Stridus grinned, “Plus it wasn’t my idea anyways…”

“I’m the one who came up with it,” The sullustan spoke smugly, “And it’s going to work.”

“You see Alara?” Stridus wrapped an arm around the girl who sent him a glare that was just icy enough for him to step back, “Tyanna knows what she’s doing! Ravenclaw’s are always good at coming up with a plan.”

“So what? Your Slytherin ambition isn’t strong enough?” Alara huffed.

“My ambition leads me to people who will help me succeed,” He grinned, “Why do you think I always hang around with you? I have a good feeling about you.”

“And I have a good feeling we’re being watched,” Tyanna cut in, “So mind what you say why don’t you.”

“Madam Nu?” Alara dropped her voice to a whisper.

“Not quite,” Obi-Wan knew when to make himself known, stepping out into the open.

“The Head Boy?!” Alara hissed to Tyanna, “I thought you had good hearing, why didn’t you warn us?”

“Because you’re as oblivious as a doormat,” Tyanna’s cold eyes fell onto Obi-Wan, “It was you he followed,” Alara gaped like a fish.

“Now, now,” Obi-Wan fell into his role as a prefect so easily, “Your plans have been foiled so why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you were up to?”

“Why would we do that?” Tyanna crossed her arms, “I’ll take it to the grave.”

“Well you can hardly blame us,” Stridus stepped up leaving Tyanna to shoot Alara an incredulous look, “The best books about the dark arts are in the restricted section and I’m sure a top student like yourself would be hard pressed to stop us from learning.”

“What are you saying?” Tyanna hissed angrily.

“What Stridus means ,” Alara cut in quite quickly, “Is that we’re simply trying to pass our tests.”

“Care to tell me what that has to do with reading about the dark arts in the restricted section?” Obi-Wan crossed his arms, his left hand sliding into his robes to reach for his wand in case they decided to run.

“Cause that old codger Gunray probably couldn’t even name the three unforgivable curses!” Tyanna growled, clearly mad about not only being caught, but by her accomplices being far too willing to sell them all out, “Can you blame us?”

“You’re not learning anything yourself are you?” Stridus moved towards him, “Come on! Maybe if you join us, you’ll have a chance to pass those NEWTs! Don’t be like me, failed my OWLs and now I’m right back to where I started,” Stridus tried slinging an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders but the 5th year was too short even if he was a year older than he should have been.

“I have no trouble admitting that Gunray’s teaching is failing those taking his classes,” Obi-Wan admitted, shaking off the Slytherin’s arm and stepping away, “But I still cannot allow three 5th years access that they should not be granted.” He was met with groans and curses he purposely pretended not to hear, “Tell me what are you struggling with? Maybe I can be of assistance?” Obi-Wan offered, gesturing to a table just a little ways away and they walked past him to sit down.

“What aren’t I struggling with,” Alara clutched her textbook, “He keeps assigning us the same reading over and over, it’s not even from a third year book. It’s stuff we learned last year.”

“I tried to go over my notes from last year,” Stridus winced, “It was hard enough trying to learn it all the first time and now I can’t seem to get it at all,” In an clearly uncharacteristically quiet voice he added, “I don’t want to have to repeat 5th year again.”

“I thought we’d learn something useful at least,” Tyanna pulled out what was clearly their latest essay assignment, “But if I have to write one more essay on cursed artifacts or potions, I’m going to scream.”

Obi-Wan took a moment, standing over these three fifth years he was reminded of his own frustrations, his own worries about the upcoming NEWTs. He was to be an Auror and yet his curriculum was probably the furthest thing from helpful. These kids were being wronged by the school and honestly it could put them in danger with Dooku at large.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan said sitting himself down next to Alara and across from Tyanna, “I think it’s best to start with the most practical of things, I’ll teach you about hex deflection-”

“Now there’s something useful!” Tyanna interrupted at the same time Stridus looked up from his old notes and Alara sat up straighter.

“I won’t teach you to cast it today though, theory is just as important in magic as ‘winging it’ as my former mentee would say,” Ah and Anakin, he would have to make a point to speak to the boy later. But first-

“But you will teach us to cast it?” Alara prompted. Obi-Wan looked between the three hopeful students and found himself stuck, it was rather impossible to deny such a request in the name of learning.

“Yes, but we can’t do it in the library, Madam Nu will have my head and I’d quite like to keep that til graduation.”

Anakin was having one of the worst days of his life. Maybe that was a little dramatic. He’d had worse days, specifically when his mum had gone missing and when Qui-Gon had died. Definitely when he got kidnapped by Dooku and that time he’d almost been sacrificed below the school.

But even after all of that there was something still so horrible about people whispering behind your back. He knew they’d all read the paper. He wasn’t dumb and they weren’t being very subtle. Still he stalked his way angrily into breakfast and made sure to sit between the Fett twins. They had teased him for a lot of things in the past, but didn’t say a single thing about him that morning.

It was nice to be shielded in that way, just those who refused to bring it up and would let things settle back into the dust when they were done. He wished Rex was closer, but he’d been late getting to breakfast so he found himself forced to sit at the very end of the table. It was just as well Anakin felt, then at least his friend could hear about what was going on and Anakin wouldn’t have to talk about it.

After breakfast Rex caught up to him and they walked the halls towards the common room in silence. Every person they passed in the hall stopped whispering the second they saw him and shuffled papers quickly out of view.

“You don’t really think Obi-Wan did this?” Rex prompted, as they turned a corner and glared at a few watchful 4th years. Anakin had of course caught Rex up on his suspicions, but the other boy didn’t seem to be as sure, “He’s stuck his neck out for you so many times it seems a bit unlikely.”

“And he’s also the only person I know who was at the Kenobi manor this summer,” He shot Rex a look, “The pictures are pretty good proof if you ask me.”

“I guess so,” Rex frowned, “I just find it so hard to believe.”

“Yeah and I found it hard to believe that Dooku was with the Sith, but here we are,” Anakin groused.

“Look who it is !” And if there was one, one person Anakin was not in the mood to see it was Sebulba .

“What do you want, Sebulba?” Anakin took a deep breath before spinning around, hand itching for his wand to just blast the guy’s stupid mug down to the other end of the corridor.

“Aw aren’t we just so mad that the truths finally come out about what a baby you are?” Sebulba crooned, grinning madly. He turned to his cronies and waved the paper about, “He plays with dollies, you know!” They snickered and Anakin sneered.

“I’m pretty sure they’re called action figures,” Rex cut in unhelpfully, “And what do you know about muggle toys anyways?”

“Clearly enough,” Sebulba barked a laugh before flipping pages in the paper, “Lookee here boys, says he’s a child playing the part of the chosen one. Are you even sure that’s your title?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you get sorted into the triwizard tournament, Sebulba,” Anakin ground out about to spin around and storm off.

“Maybe if you didn’t claim such false glories your mum would still be around,” Sebulba’s words halted him in his tracks, “It says you still call for her in your sleep, is that why you still have stuffed animals?”

The cogs in Anakin’s brain screeched to a halt and it took quite a lot of self control to not unleash a rather strong blast of unfiltered magic, but instead he took a small shaky breath, “Maybe!” He shouted, “What else does it say in there Sebulba? Since you seem so keen on reading the whole thing out loud!”

“It says you’re lazy, sleeping on the job more like it,” Sebulba was happy to take the opportunity to continue, “Not sure how you of all people got in this bloody tournament, they usually pick people who have a chance!”

“Is that all?” Anakin prompted and Sebulba’s eye twitched in confusion before continuing.

“Haven’t you read it yet?” Sebulba smirked, “Well no matter I can fill you in. It has an embarrassing picture of you in your pajamas, covered in some muggle hero,” He snickered, “And apparently the first time you went to the beach you cried because you got sand in your eye.”

“Does it?” Anakin felt an unnatural level of calm flood across him as he faced his foe in the hallway.

“Sure does,” Sebulba grinned.

“Why don’t you show it to me?” Anakin felt his heart beating out of his chest because he was pretty sure-

“Okay I will!” Sebulba flipped a page. Then another. Then another. His face lost a little color as he looked up to meet Anakin’s steeled blue gaze.

That had never made it into the paper to begin with.

“So it was you,” Anakin kept his voice level, only a little bit of anger shadowing his words.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sebulba snapped, fingering through the paper again, “I must have just heard something and-”

“You must have heard a lot of things,” Anakin took a few steps forward, wand pulled out and extended towards the bully, “But the real question is where.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-” He repeated, but his eyes gazed down at the wand and he seemed to think better of his answer. He pushed Anakin’s wand out of the way before he snarled an answer, “I don’t know, I just found them and thought that the world might be interested.”

“Well you thought wrong,” Anakin pushed his wand back into the dug’s neck and Sebulba let out an unconscious squeak before retreating a few steps, “Most of that’s not true anyways,” He wasn’t stupid enough to deny it all, many of his fellow Gryffindors had seen him reading comics or wearing that particular pajama set after all.

“W-well, how was I supposed to know,” Sebulba spat as he turned to retreat once more.

“Not everything you read is real you know, maybe it's a good thing you’ve never read a comic!” Anakin shouted after him. Lowering his wand slowly, and not without a small twinge of regret that he didn’t get to use it. Sebulba really deserved a visit from karma and if Anakin had to do it himself he would.

“So it was him,” Rex swore, “Bastard never seems to cut you a break.”

“Sebulba’s slimy,” Anakin tucked his wand away, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but then where did he find all that?”

“Some of it is common knowledge,” Rex pointed out, “Even Padme’s seen your comics.”

“And some of it isn’t,” Anakin tried to keep the red from pooling in his cheeks, “He’s not wrong about the sand thing,” Anakin hissed under his breath, “But I didn’t think anyone knew that, but my mum…”

“She wouldn’t sell you out,” Rex assured him, though Anakin didn’t need it. He knew his mum would never, wherever she was…

“At least it wasn’t Obi-Wan,” Anakin felt both relief and guilt at the thought, “He writes his diary in cursive with a little old english in there and I’m positive if I can’t read it, neither can Sebulba.”

“So you’re sure then?” Rex raised an eyebrow, “Because just a few minutes ago you were likely on a vendetta to blackmail your mentor.”

Anakin sighed, truthfully he didn’t want Obi-Wan to be the bad guy. Tensions were high this year though, and they were in such a fierce competition, “I like to think that I trust him,” Anakin spoke after a moment, “And I do, it’s just, how can I trust anyone anymore?”

“You trust me,” Rex pointed out, “And Padmé as far as I’m aware.”

“You guys have always been there for me,” Anakin pointed out, “And Obi-Wan…” He thought back to his first year at Hogwarts, Obi-Wan was a good mentor yes, but he’d also hurt him by keeping things from him. Qui-Gon had asked Obi-Wan to mentor him and although it was clear now that it was a mutual decision, it had still hurt to have such a thing hidden, “Obi-Wan’s a bit unpredictable,” Anakin settled on.

It was kind of true, he was mysterious which made him hard for Anakin to follow and oftentimes it felt like he was testing Anakin unnecessarily like this morning. He could have simply been there for Anakin, but instead he brushed it off and said it happened to the best of them.

It was frustrating and Anakin felt himself constantly falling into the gap between child and teenager.

“I’ll go apologize,” Anakin decided, because in the end he had been wrong and that’s what his mother would want him to do, “But I’m worried Rex.”

“And I’ll be here for you, no matter what,” Rex reminded him.

Anakin turned and walked his way towards the library. The whispering still followed him but somehow it was less noticeable. Sliding easily off his back now that he knew where it had come from. Still he tried not to listen.’

Approaching Obi-Wan’s table however, he realized quickly that the Ravenclaw wasn’t there and instead there was Cody, scribbling away. Obi-Wan’s things still sat there abandoned and Anakin frowned.

“Where’s Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, and Cody looked up in surprise. Whatever he was working on had to be related with Quidditch because Cody was rarely ever so deeply into his work that he’d miss the opportunity for a distraction.

“He went towards the back of the library,” Cody checked his watch, “Oh I dunno an hour or so ago?” He looked around like he’d finally come to and he frowned, “At this point I’m starting to think a better question is where Satine is.”

Anakin didn’t stick around to follow that line of questioning.

He walked around the library, which was pretty quiet and while that wasn’t out of the ordinary, he thought he’d see a few more students studying. He walked past the restricted section and a group of huddled students caught his attention. He approached and it was pretty clear by the tones of lecture that floated his way that he’d found who he was looking for.

“And that’s why Salvio Hexia was created in the first place,” Obi-Wan’s voice droned on and Anakin shoved his way through the other students, there had to be at least 10 surrounding the table, many were 5th years, but some other years had joined as well, “The important thing to note is that-” Obi-Wan trailed off when he saw Anakin in the crowd and he paused, his wand still raised, painting shimmery pictures in the air that demonstrated his points as he went. Anakin did take a moment to wonder why none of their professors did that and instead relied on blackboards that were quite boring.

“Ah Anakin,” Obi-Wan acknowledged him and Anakin suddenly felt all eyes fall on him and he shifted, “One moment, I just need to have a word,” he gestured at Anakin, the magic in the air fell and covered everyone nearby in what looked like extra sparkly glitter, “I’ll just be a moment, perhaps until then you can practice the incantation… words only! ” He emphasized, “I’m not trying to get myself booted from the library!” He sounded a bit more panicked at the thought than anyone else would.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started once they had walked a fair bit away, “I wanted to say-”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin interrupted, “It wasn’t you, it was Sebulba that fed information to the prophet.”

“I- what?” Obi-Wan frowned.

“Yeah you know, Sebulba, tall and gangly, ugly mug can’t miss him,” Anakin added a bit of his anger painting his words.

“Where did Sebulba-”

“I don’t know,” Anakin cut in, “I don’t know, but I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“Honestly, I can’t say that I blame you,” Obi-Wan deflated a little, “A lot of that article seemed rather personal, from what I could glean. It only makes sense that you would think of the person who spent the most time with you over the summer,” though even as he said it, he didn’t look like he fully agreed.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Anakin grimaced, “I just have a lot of people out for me.”

“I understand, and for what it’s worth. I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan cringed, “I blew you off this morning and it may have come off unreasonably harsh. I had a lot on my mind, it wasn’t that I didn’t care.”

“Let’s just forget the whole thing happened,” Anakin hurried them along, it was awkward enough to stand in the library talking about feelings, he’d rather let them both get back to the task at hand… literally.

“If that’s what you want, but Anakin I would never-” Obi-Wan started, but before he could finish there was the very distinct sound of a spell backfiring and it had Obi-Wan on a mad dash back to his impromptu lecture.

Anakin watched him go, he felt a little better about the whole thing, but he’d be even more grateful for the whole thing to blow over. Obi-Wan had said to give it about a week, so that’s what Anakin would do. One last piece of advice from someone who was supposed to stop mentoring him years ago.

It wasn’t that Cody cared much about what Satine was doing with her Sunday, but it was quite odd that she hadn’t shown up to the library. She knew full well that was the best place to find Obi-Wan and the two had been even more inseparable since they'd gotten together. Obi-Wan had yet to return to their table, wherever he’d gone off too, but it surely wasn’t Satine because he wouldn’t have left the library without picking up his stuff.

Cody set down his friend's quill and folded up his new workout plan, tucking it inside Kenobi’s DADA textbook. He set off towards breakfast first. The halls were crawling with students given that it was indeed a Sunday and any excuse to not be found in their common room or a classroom was good enough. The Great Hall was emptying out with breakfast almost finished. He snuck up behind Koth and stole a croissant off the Ravenclaw captain's plate.

“Oi!” Koth tried to snatch it back, but Cody was faster, “I was saving that for last!” He complained and Cody shrugged.

“You snooze, you lose mate,” He shrugged, “You haven’t seen Kryze around anywhere have you?”

“Kryze?” Koth looked to his fellow Ravenclaws all who shook their heads, “I haven’t.”

“Haven’t seen her yet today,” It didn’t seem to concern anyone in the vicinity, but they didn’t know Satine like he did. She was rarely absent from anything.

“I saw Satine,” He turned eagerly towards Padmé, who had happened to be walking past at the right time, “I ran into her this morning and we had a bit of a chat,” She shrugged, “Nothing out of the ordinary, but the next time I saw her she was heading outside. She looked a little ill, her face was all white. I do hope she’s alright.”

Cody frowned, it was a rather cold day, the good weather had only lasted long enough for the tournament. It even looked like it may rain soon and Cody sure didn’t want a friend outside wandering the grounds. He was sure she didn’t have rounds today either.

“I’ll go check it out,” He decided, plans already whirring into motion as he finished off Koth’s croissant and hurried towards the entrance.

It was windy, definitely enough to blow someone small away, but to his well earned credit, Cody was not someone to be toppled over so easily. He started exploring the grounds, looking down towards his brother’s hut, but no one was to be seen.

It was a long walk across the grounds. The Quidditch pitch was empty, but even so, he made it a point to check every room hidden under the pitch. He paused a moment more in Gryffindor’s locker room to grab his broom out of the locked box. If he couldn’t find Satine on foot, he was sure he could find her from the sky.

He continued on foot a bit longer, walking all the way around the side of the castle until he got to the sheer cliffs that led down towards the docks. He hadn’t been down there in quite some time, no need really. But it was lucky he thought to check anyways because as he scaled down the stairs he started hearing voices picked up by the wind.

“But if-”

“Maybe it’s not-”

“-whole thing-”

“Do you-”

“-surely Ben-”

Even without being able to clearly hear the lilt in her voice, he knew it would be Satine at the end of the steps. Cody edged further down feeling the need to be stealthy. A skill he picked up after living with brothers for so long and it certainly came in handy a lot in recent years.

“I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head,” Cody froze, finally he caught a glimpse of Satine’s blonde hair, windswept as it was. And in the other voice, he certainly had an inkling, “It’s going to be alright.” Satine shifted her weight just enough for Cody to catch sight of Quinlan’s locs and he quickly backed up so he’d stay out of sight.

Cody hesitated. He’d made a big deal about this sort of thing before and been wrong, but he still felt like a secret meeting between Satine and her Yule Ball date was maybe something that should be reported to Obi-Wan. It was only right! The bro code! So Cody backed up a few more steps before taking off quickly and carefully on his broom. He kept low until he was sure she wouldn’t catch the tail of his broom and he swooped quickly towards the library.

He peered through the window, Obi-Wan had returned to their table and was working on his essay once more. Cody banged on the window swiftly and definitely a bit too loudly. Kenobi nearly jumped out of his skin and did in fact fall out of his chair before standing swiftly. He marched towards the window with that lecturing gleam in his eye and threw open the window so forcefully he nearly nicked Cody.

“What on this green Earth are you doing?!” Obi-Wan placed a hand over his heart which was surely racing, “Scaring me half to death. Shouldn’t we save that for the tournament?”

“Heh, sorry mate,” Cody apologized despite the fact that it was really funny to see Kenobi so flustered. He grew a bit more serious as he brought up the topic at hand, “I just thought you should know, I went looking for Satine-”

“I was wondering about her whereabouts,” Obi-Wan had that gooey look in his eyes again and Cody rolled his eyes, “Not that she’s meant to be anywhere of course.”

“She’s having a secret meeting with Quinlan down by the docks,” He blurted out and Kenobi’s face grew blank as he processed that information.

“Quinlan?” He asked as if Cody wasn’t clear enough the first time.

“Quinlan,” He confirmed.

“It’s probably nothing,” Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, messing it up a bit.

“Probably not,” Cody agreed.

The conversation hung in silence for a moment before Obi-Wan, careful not to look at the ground below them, stepped onto the window sill clutching the sides of the window frame with white knuckles.

“Don’t you dare let me fall,” He threatened as he climbed onto the back of Cody’s broom, his nails practically digging into Cody’s shoulders.

“Wouldn’t dream of it mate!” Cody confirmed before he adjusted his position and they zoomed across the grounds.

Satine had already found her morning quite dreary having woken up far too early and not been able to fall back asleep. She’d still opted to have a bit of a lazy morning, spending a bit of extra time in her bed, reading a bit of muggle fiction that her mum had sent to her in the last care package she’d received. As much as she loved life as a wizard, sometimes it was easier to drown oneself into the mundane drama of a couple of muggles struggling to fall in love with one another.

She took her time getting dressed, combing her hair and slipping a headband on. She found no reason to try anything fancy today, but she didn’t want to go out looking like a rat had attacked her in her sleep. She opted for more casual wear though she made sure her Head Girl pin was clear and easy to see, she would not be taking any nonsense from younger years.

The hallways were clear with it still being rather early. Ben hadn’t been in the common room much to her disappointment. But he was likely in the library so that’s where she set off towards. She ducked under a ghost that didn’t seem keen to move out of her way and ended up face to face with Padmé on the way up.

“Oh Satine!” Padmé smiled, it was a rare day indeed because even Padmé hadn’t opted to do anything rather wild with her hair. She was likely up quite late the night before given the party that had surely drug itself into the night.

“Padmé,” Satine greeted, “How are you?”

“Doing quite well,” She replied and joined Satine in walking through the halls, “Gryffindor’s in mighty high spirits.”

“As they deserve to be,” Satine smiled proudly thinking of her best friend, “The Quidditch team worked hard for that win.”

“You Ravenclaws aren’t at all perturbed by your loss?” Padmé asked with the tilt of her head.

“Not at all,” Satine shook her head, “Ravenclaw’s team played the best they have in seven years. I’d say it would be hard to be mad at being outmatched in that case.”

“Are you sure that’s not just you?” Padmé nudged her with her elbow and Satine laughed.

“While Ben and I are extremely proud of Cody, I don’t think any member of our team holds any hurt feelings,” Satine added after a moment of thought, “Ravenclaw’s focus is never about the act of winning, but the path that takes you there. They get enough of a kick about planning great strategies as they do when they come out on top.”

“I guess that’s a pretty big divider between our houses,” Padmé hummed, “Gryffindor is about glory.”

“As is Slytherin,” Satine pointed out, “It’s not a bad thing to strive for a goal and to be happy when you get there. But I don’t think our houses are as different as you think they are,” Satine thought back to all the Quidditch talk Cody had had with her over the years, “Cody’s more of a strategist than he’d have you or anyone else believe.”

“That may be,” Padmé agreed, “Are you on your way to meet them now? Cody and Obi-Wan?”

“That’s right,” Satine nodded, “And what about you? Meeting up with Anakin and Rex? I know you’ve been working on solving that scroll.”

“Oh, maybe a bit later,” Padme considered, “But we’ve already solved the scroll, or rather Anakin solved it.”

Satine tripped.

“Oh are you alright?” Padme put a hand on her shoulder, but when Satine brought her face up it was painted carefully neutral.

“Loose cobblestone,” Satine brushed it off with an awkward laugh, “You were saying?”

“Just that Anakin solved his scroll,” She continued as if nothing had happened, “He said he was inspired by something he overheard in the library. Something about a wash of sorts.”

Satine measured her breathing easily and let her thoughts jump three kilometers ahead of the conversation, “Oh good, I had hoped you’d solve it soon enough.”

“We’re maybe not as quick as you three, but we won’t fall behind you!” Padmé joked, completely blinded to Satine’s racing thoughts.

“Oh damn,” Satine cursed as she halted in her tracks.

“What is it?” Padme looked at her with concern.

“I left my history textbook in my dormitory,” She rifled through her bag, shoving said textbook further down so it wasn’t visible.

“Oh no,” Padme frowned, “Do you want me to go with you to get it? I’m not doing much else at the moment.”

“No,” Satine shook her head, “That’s quite alright, I’d hate to accidentally wake up Stass,” She turned and started walking in the opposite direction.

“I’ll just head down to breakfast then,” She heard Padmé say before the girl was out of earshot.

Satine felt bad about lying to Padmé, but she wanted to be absolutely positive . She turned and headed towards the Gryffindor common room.

Cody should still be there, that’s what she hoped at least, but upon entering through the portrait, which she shouldn’t be doing, this wasn’t prefect business. She didn’t see her friend anywhere.

“Have you seen Cody?” She asked Echo, or maybe Fives.

“He left ages ago,” He answered, “Didn’t see him when I woke up.”

“Did you need something?” The other one asked and Satine hesitated.

“I think he has one of my textbooks,” It sounded too unrealistic so she continued, “We might have gotten them mixed up,” It had certainly happened before, and Satine had a bad habit of sticking her notes between the pages.

“Well you can go up to his room,” Echo (maybe?) shrugged, “No one else is there.” Satine nodded and climbed the stairs. She paused outside of a different door. Upon hearing only silence she peeked inside, empty. She felt a bit bad, walking into the room, but also was reminded that a certain someone had broken into her room a mere month ago and sprayed her with water. She crossed the room quickly.

Anakin was predictable, his golden scroll lay out in the open on his bedside table. She was quick in pulling her wand out and taping it gently on the parchment, “ librum, ” She whispered. It unrolled revealing indeed an image. It was some dark figure that had no meaning to her, but that wasn’t what mattered. She tapped her wand to it again to roll it up and booked it out of Gryffindor’s common room.

Satine headed outside and was immediately buffeted by the wind. It was cold out and she didn’t have on her robe, but her heart was beating fast enough to keep her blood flowing. She hurried to the docks, descending the stairs quickly, but carefully. She needed confirmation from someone else. Had Quinlan been able to solve it? If he hadn’t, she’d have to ask Hera.

She knew Ben would likely disapprove of essentially asking for the answer. Both of them really were more the type to love a good riddle, a good mystery, but when it came down to Ben’s life she was willing to put all of that aside.

Durmstrang’s ship was quite massive, only a plank serving as an entrance and an exit. She scaled the thing quickly and was greeted by quite a few sets of eyes as it seemed its students liked to hang out on the deck in the mornings. Satine went to the first person she could find and respectfully asked for Quinlan. That got her a few interesting looks, a few whispers, but she didn’t bow to them. She simply walked down the ramp again and waited a few minutes. Quinlan appeared at the top of the ramp, despite the cold he still wasn’t wearing a shirt which seemed a bit too much even for him.

“Satine!” He greeted her with a wide grin, “Wonderful to see you, but I am surprised nonetheless.”

“I need the answer to a question,” She said firmly, “I believe Ben may have been sabotaged again.”

That wiped a smile off Quinlan’s face quite quickly, “Sabotaged?”

“Did you solve your scroll?” She asked and he looked at her with a carefully guarded look.

“I don’t think-”

“Did you solve it?” Satine pressed, “I don’t need to know what's on it, but this is important . I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”

“I did,” He answered seriously.

“How did you solve it?” She asked softly.

“A bit of washing soda-” He said more, but Satine’s ears still felt like they were ringing.

“Are you sure?” She pushed rather forcefully.

Quinlan frowned, “What?”

“You’re sure it was washing soda?”

Quinlan nodded, “Yeah one of my buddies had a muggle magician phase, not sure what his deal was, but he told me it would work and it did. So what’s the problem?”

“I tried that,” Satine wrapped her arms around herself, “But if you're sure that’s what you did… Ben’s parchment is still blank.”

“Blank? Well maybe it’s not the same for everyone,” Quinlan suggested, “It could be an additional challenge”

“Yeah except Anakin solved it too, the whole thing,” She gestured with her hands, “Revealed. After he heard about my method.”

“Do you really think he’s being targeted,” Quinlan lowered his voice, “I mean I heard about the shark, it’s fishy, but not entirely out of the ordinary?”

“I do,” Satine said calmly, “Because surely Ben would have solved this thing by now if it was anything magical.”

“Have you spoken to Syndulla yet?” Quinlan asked, crossing his arms, “She’ll want to know about this too, or maybe she had a different way to solve it.”

“Yeah maybe…” Though Satine wasn’t convinced.

They walked towards the Beauxbaton carriage. Satine was rather silent, thinking over and over about how she tried the wash on Ben’s parchment trying to see if she’d missed any step, but it was unlikely. Quinlan was much more chatty, talking about his parchment, it showed a picture too. Of someone walking away, he said. He seemed to not like that train of thought anymore because he started talking about the Quidditch match.

“Durmstrang could have beat any of your teams I’m sure,” He was saying, “Not that Fett didn’t play a solid game, never seen that last move before-”

There was a flash of movement as something dropped right in front of them. Satine fumbled for her wand and Quinlan quickly threw out an arm to keep her back, but once her eyes caught up to her she found herself staring incredulously at Obi-Wan Kenobi. She glanced up to see Cody hovering a few feet over her head looking just as surprised, before she turned back to her idiot boyfriend.

“Ah Satine, there you are,” Ben swiftly moved around Quinlan’s still stretched out arm to greet Satine, “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“ I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Cody corrected as he landed next to him, “This guys been writing his dumb essay for DADA.”

“What in heaven's name made you think you could jump out of the sky at me?!” Satine had barely blinked before the lecture practically ripped its way out of her chest, “ Obi-Wan Kenobi , you just about gave me a bloody heart attack! And what if you’d have gotten hurt, you idiot!” He didn’t seem to hear her entirely as he was in the process of removing his cloak and throwing it around her shoulders.

“You know it’s cold out here right?” He admonished, “You shouldn’t leave the castle without a cloak, honestly Satine-”

“Don’t you ‘Honestly Satine’ me!” She still clasped the collar of his cloak around her neck, “And what’s this about your DADA essay? I thought you had that finished already.”

“It’ll get done,” He waved a hand to brush it away, “I had a lot of other things on my mind you know-”

“As did I before my boyfriend decided to jump out of the sky,” As she brought this back up she turned, remembering Cody was also there, “And you let him?!”

“He told me not to let him fall, I didn’t expect him to jump !” Cody complained, looking to Quinlan as if the other man was an out. Quinlan just burst out into laughter halting any further discussion between the three of them.

“Man and you were worried about him,” Quinlan lightly punched Satine in the shoulder and Ben moved to put himself in between them.

“Worried about me?” Ben looked over at her inquisitively and she gave him her iciest glare.

“When am I not these days?” Satine huffed, but she let her fury drain away for now, “I have bad news.”

“What’s new around here?” Cody sighed, leaning against his broom.

“Remember when I tried the washing soda?” She prompted and Ben’s eyes lit up.

“Oh yes! The science,” He said at the same time Cody frowned.

“The what?”

“Well I was right,” She looked to Quinlan, “Anakin and Quinlan have already solved theirs and they did it the way we did.”

Ben blinked, gears certainly turning behind his eyes as he put a hand to his chin, “It- They solved it?”

“ Yes ,” Satine confirmed, “Once you apply the wash and the heat it reveals an image.”

“But mine didn’t,” He looked a little shaken by the thought, “I really am going at this blind.”

“No, we're bringing this up to the Headmaster!” Satine stepped towards him, “We can’t let this go unchecked.”

“Satine,” Ben looked up at her, “We don’t know that this is anything to be concerned about, maybe, maybe I’m missing something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Satine growled, “I will not have you die because of some clear oversight! This isn’t fair!” She felt a couple tears threaten to well up, but she pushed the feeling down, thankful for the cold that dried her eyes before she could worry about him seeing them.

“I think I agree with Satine,” Quinlan hesitantly joined the conversation, “I don’t think it’s fair.”

“It’s like going into a Quidditch game where you’re the only one wearing a blindfold mate,” Cody added, “I think we have to say something.”

“That might not be the case,” Ben frowned, “It must mean something.”

“It means ,” Satine grit her teeth, “Someone wants you out .”

“Fine,” He met her energy with his own, “I’ll write a letter to Headmaster Yoda, for you . I still think there’s something we’re missing, I’m missing,” He hummed, “I think I’ll head back to the library, are you coming Satine?”

She took his cold hand in her own, “I’ll join you later, I want to confirm with Hera.”

“I’ll go with you,” Cody and Quinlan both said at once. Quinlan volunteering out of his own interest likely and Cody seemed to be volunteering for whatever reason possessed Ben to jump out of the sky for her. Ben didn’t seem to mind anymore, deep in thought and already heading towards the castle.

Though absent of any actual desire to see him, Sidious had entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with the intention of catching up with Professor Gunray. He’d heard many reports from his students, including Anakin, that they weren’t learning much in the ways of actual magic this year. This level of incompetence was to be expected when he was brought on board, but for the sake of image and to remind him that there were certain students that necessitated actual dark arts training, it was time he have a chat with him professor to professor.

Sadly, this meant he’d have to leave behind any methods of punishment or threats, and would have to appear like the concerned professor that Palpatine had become known as.

It was agonizing, really, to pretend as though he cared for the growing minds of the imbeciles that called themselves witches and wizards. However, Gunray’s lack of productivity and menial taskwork only proved just how incapable this current state of Ministry was. To allow such an unqualified being to spread knowledge of defense against evil was like tying hands behind backs in a fist fight.

And while this would theoretically provide something of an advantage to Sidious down the line, he needed to prove that his Hogwarts wouldn’t be like that. It would be strong. Formidable. Deadly.

He tried not to smile too hard on that thought. Oh, to actually use the dungeons for their intended purpose. That was a day he dreamed of at night.

However, he needed to snap on the professor's act even firmer when he bumped into Obi-Wan Kenobi as he exited the otherwise empty classroom, a large stack of papers beneath his arm as he moved to put away his wand.

“Obi-Wan! My, my, still staying late after class I see!” He tried to be cheerful, even as he felt a rush of scorn towards the boy. Once again, he was getting in the way of Sidious’ plans.

Sidious wasn’t the only one surprised in this exchange, though, because Kenobi looked as though he’d been caught for a moment. Doing what, he wasn’t sure.

“Oh, Professor!” He straightened, gaze flickering for a moment as though he was contemplating whether or not he was going to lie about his whereabouts. He shrugged rigidly, “I was just editing this DADA essay that’s due Monday.”

“Without your professor?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at the boy.

“Well, as you have likely noticed, my grades have slipped a good deal. I need as much quiet time as allowed to bring them back up.” He said and Sidious almost scoffed. No, he hadn’t noticed whatever minutia of a point Kenobi had dropped in the ranks, nor did he care. There were bigger things at play.

If only he could see just how limited his days were.

Then again...

They were standing alone in the corridor, completely absent of watchful eyes. He could snuff out the pitiful flicker of light he provided in Skywalker’s life, thus sealing his fate. Gone would Obi-Wan Kenobi be from the world and he would no longer unknowingly carry on the same problematic edge that Qui-Gon Jinn did to Sidious’ plots and ploys.

No one would know the difference, and he doubted very many would care.

In a moment of weakness that not even he was immune to, his fingers flickered towards his wand, imagining the shock that would color the sad excuse for a Head Boy’s face as he realized he was about to die. There would be a lovely flash of green, one that had gone far too long from erupting from Sidious’ wand, and then slowly before all at once, the life would drain from him. Behind, would only remain an empty carcass that never met the potential handed to him.

When the boy showed him his essay as though detention was the punishment he’d debated on relaying, the minimal logic behind this plan seeped in quickly. Though it was bitter and left the cooling sensation of a burn, he knew it was just as well. No, the death of one of the Champions would certainly draw some suspicion, especially in Hogwarts.

Plus, as he spotted one of the ghosts drift through the walls of Gunray’s classroom, he sighed. It wasn’t as though he could very well bribe or barter with the unliving, not again.

So, he took the essay and read over it, moderately impressed with Kenobi’s craftsmanship with words as ever. Though a rather useless skill to have, it had projected him to the top quite easily, no matter how much tension rolled off his shoulders. Still, there was something different about him, just as there had been ever since the new term started. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, nor did he care enough to give it much thought.

His time would come.

“Well, I don’t see how this wouldn’t make top marks,” He said with a smile as he handed the essay on the history of Obscurials, “I was actually stopping in to discuss the curriculum with Professor Gunray. Have you felt as though you’ve been learning a lot? A ministry perspective must be quite different.”

“Oh… er, well it has been different,” Kenobi winced, “But I’ll be honest, we haven’t done much in the means of physical magic.”

“So my concerns have been confirmed,” He shook his head mournfully, being sure to separate himself from the invasive ministry officials.

“It’s certainly not ideal,” He said, clearly uncomfortable with speaking out of turn against a professor, even if it was a sham like Gunray. “The fifth years haven’t even begun to learn patronuses yet and that, in my experience, has always been the most difficult to master.”

“Really, someone of your caliber?” He was suddenly thankful to the fates for having arranged this impromptu discussion. In fact, it took everything in him not to grin wickedly as he recalled the details of Maul’s intrusion last year and just how Kenobi was too weak to thwart him in full before it was too late.

“Every wizard has their weaknesses,” He justified, “But I have struggled in the past with it.”

How lovely.

Sidious nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder- a far cry from wrapping it around his neck like he’d initially wanted to, “Though I hope the day never comes where any of you must use it, there’s nothing quite like seeing the very symbol of your soul immortalized for the first time.”

While quite competent in shielding his emotions from others, he was not quick enough to escape Sidious. He knew the fear of incompetency when he saw it and relished in this display of weakness.

“I imagine it would be,” He nodded just barely, his eyes searching elsewhere in hopes of evading this conversation entirely. “What’s yours, Professor?”

“An Adder, dear boy,” He said, though he hadn’t cast such a spell since he was a child, “Power, determination and a renovation to mankind.”

“I’ve been patient, Aveross,” Dooku’s deep voice rumbled as he crouched in front of the fireplace in the far corner of the White Wyvern, “Some would argue, too patient. Now, where is the child?”

Rael, like Dooku and his master before him, kept his head bowed and his hood hanging low so that a shadow of obscurity shielded him from view. Likely, he was in Scotland, gathering intel and resources to spread their cause to a wider range. He’d certainly seen the news where a muggle bank had been lit to flames.

That wasn’t even Dooku or Rael’s doing, which meant progress was being made. Slowly but surely, they were gaining their desired following.

“Apologies, my Master, but there have been some… Complications with our contacts.”

He cursed under his breath, silently damning Lord Sidious for bringing that foolish Gunray aboard in the first place. The moron was nothing but a hazard to their plots and was proving as such every day.

“And how will you fix this?” Dooku wasted no time placing blame, not when they were dangerously close to blowing this entire mission up in their faces.

“I have received reports from my own resources of where the child is located.” He said, “I have not made any move on retrieving him just yet.”

“And why not?” Dooku gritted. He hated playing these waiting games, especially when they seemed so trivial. Their largest conquest took time, that he understood, but to have to sit around and twiddle his thumbs while he waited on every piece to slide into place was agonizing at best.

“Instead of heroically returning the child, master, how do you like the proposition of catching its kidnapper?” Rael had always been a helpful student, one that Dooku quite liked and took on as a protege of sorts, even before Qui-Gon. He was powerful, knowledgeable, but experimental with the rules in a way neither Dooku nor Qui-Gon ever were.

It was part of what made him so useful to have as an ally. He hadn’t expected him to turn, not so easily, but after the tragic loss of Nim, Rael was but a shell of what he once was in spirit. Luckily, Dooku didn’t really need much of that.

He stroked his beard, considering this option, “And who have we chosen as the perpetrator of this heinous crime?”

“Who would you like it to be?” He asked.

“I’d like for it to be Yoda,” He said, but shook his head, “But I fear he’s not a convincing sell. It should be someone important, but not quite so analyzed.”

“I know I would like to blame Gunray.”

“We all would, but that hardly proves our point,” He said, hiding a smile at the thought of how surprised the Neimodian would be if the tables were turned so sharply back at him. It would certainly serve as a reminder that he really isn’t as necessary or important as he believed he was.

“I think I have an idea,” He said.

“Be creative, Aveross, but be quick.” He said, “When I brought you on, I expressed that this was a time sensitive area.”

“Indeed, but I’m sorry to say that your other allies do not understand.” He said.

“I’ll ensure that they are… Handled… After all of this. Just do the job and do it right. I will concede to going along with this change of plans, just this once.”

“Understood,” He bowed, “I will notify you when the time is right.”

“Please do,” He said.

And like that, he disappeared into the flames, but was instantly replaced with the green hue that took shape when Master Sidious contacted him. The entirety of the dark room was instantly replaced with a ghoulish light that inspired even the shadows to hide from the lord of darkness, himself.

“Master, this is unexpected,” He bowed, tucking his head so the grimace could be well-hidden from his face.

Was he ever to receive a break?

“I have been trying to reach you all evening, Lord Tyranus,” Sidious’ scratchy voice scowled at him disapprovingly, “I should hope you aren’t plotting without me again.”

Dooku flexed his hand, “No, Master, I was conversing with Aveross regarding our Huttlet predicament.”

“I see,” He grunted, “Another former servant of yours to do your bidding.”

“It is not as though I can be everywhere at once,” He said, “Is that not the point of gaining resources?”

“You are doing well enough in that regard,” He admitted begrudgingly, “But we must have something to show them, something to prove our superiority.”

“I believe you will be most satisfied with the outcome of this Hutt fiasco, Master.” Dooku said, “To prove our superiority is to dismantle theirs.”

“I wish not to be corralled in such a tired scheme, Tyranus, not when I’ve larger fish to fry.” Sidious said and Dooku bit down on his tongue, anger flowing through him at such carefree dismissal. Did he not recall that it was his lackeys that were making this process tiresome in the first place?

“Shark-sized fish?” He couldn’t help but jest, feeling secure in knowing that no harm could befall him here, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case if they were closer in proximity. Though he couldn’t make out anything on his face except his wrinkled chin and orange eyes, he could practically feel the flicker of sharp acrimony.

It felt good.

“Your wit is sharp, my apprentice,” He said in a ghostly voice, “But not sharper than the blade I could so easily drive through your heart without so much as lifting a finger.”

“You wouldn’t.” He dared.

“Don’t try me,” Sidious said slowly, “No one is irreplaceable, not even you.”

Thinking back to Maul and just how easily he’d slid in his place, Dooku straightened his posture and stuck his nose up to appear nonplussed but obedient. He didn’t speak out of turn again, this time waiting for Sidious’ lead on the matter. His master did not just make house calls to check in.

“My apologies, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ll admit, I believe I was misguided in my decision to allow Gunray to drive Kenobi to his grave,” Sidious said, “He has proven himself to be stronger than I thought.”

“I assume you are referring to the boy,” He clarified, “Not Gunray.”

“Of course,” Scoffed Sidious, “It turns out, I will be requiring your assistance with ensuring the second task goes our way.”

“Given the confines of it, I suppose I could implement traps to ensnare-”

“-Oh no, Lord Tyranus, nothing of that realm,” He chuckled, clearly delighted in what he perceived as his own brilliance at being the only one to see what should be done. “We shouldn't interfere with the placement of the contestants, not this time.”

“No? But Kenobi-”

“-I think the boy will perform exactly how we want him to,” He said, “Entirely on his own.”

“So, what will you need from me?” Dooku asked.

“It is not a monster or beast that shall consume Kenobi. We should have learned from Maul’s mistakes last year.”

That didn’t answer his question in the slightest, but it seemed Sidious was intent on receiving a response of his own first.

“I’m assuming you’ve found an alternate solution on the matter.”

“Oh yes,” Sidious bore all of his sharp teeth, cackling with giddiness at the visual suffering that would incur. Dooku was more interested in the results than the pain they caused along the way. “Why hold the boy under when he can do that himself?”

“If not consumed by a monster or foe, what shall destroy him?” Dooku asked.

“Fear.”

[hello-everyfandom]

“I’m not very good at flirting, am I?”

Warnings: Cringey attempts at flirting?

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Words: 2k

Summary: Remus is nervous for your first study date, or date? Is it a date? 

You were quite oblivious when it came to people who fancied you. Howard Lewis, from house Ravenclaw, practically had heart eyes for you and attempted to ask you out every Saturday morning whilst you drank your tea. The only response he was given was a hum and a sweet reply back, 

“I’m not planning on doing anything but reading my novel,”  

You frustrated a lot of boys in your year, and even in the year above. You must know, right? You must’ve known that at least half of your house and even more boys from the other houses have tried to flirt with you and received nothing back. But you didn’t. You loved blind. And, not to mention, quite peculiar as you obliviously ignored your suitors. You spent days feeling quite lonely and even longed for a handsome fellow to sweep you off your feet and into the forbidden forest. Remus Lupin thought you were peculiar as well, but not peculiar as in a bizarre fashion, instead, he thought of you strangely amazing. He found himself gifted the seat to the right of yours during Transfigurations and was kept his glances towards you to only a few per minute. He was smitten. And he was speechless when you approached him one Saturday morning, unaware of your rejection to a Mr. Lewis of Ravenclaw, and asked him to study with you.

“Hello Remus,” you said, he greeted you politely and with reddened ears, he knew he would get teased for later, “I was wondering if you were not too busy after lunch if you could help me study a bit of Transfigurations. I find it actually quite difficult and would rather McGonagall not deducted points from my house.”

Remus nodded quickly and stuttered out, “Yes, I. Where should I meet me? You? I mean, you.” he quickly wanted to slam his face into his porridge but you seemed to enjoy his response and giggled.

“There’s a tree near the lake; if you bring your textbook I can bring a blanket for us to sit on?” you offered, “I swear I have the comfiest blankets in my dorm.” Remus sent you an embarrassed smile and watched you longingly as you spun and left the Great Hall, a steaming mug of tea in your hand.

Sirius clapped his hand on Remus’ shoulder rather harshly, he’d say, and let out a bark, “How the hell did you do it?” Remus snapped out of his gaze to look at his three friends who stared at him in wonder.

“Do... what? Exactly?” Remus begged his face to go back to his original pale colour and stirred his breakfast with a spoon.

“I believe you have a date with a Ms. Y/L/N.” Sirius grinned boyishly and hooted, “Remus, how did you do it!” 

“Sirius, get your hand off me before I feed it to the giant squid and leave your body for dessert, and it’s not a date,” Remus grumbled and shifted awkwardly in his seat. 

“No, really, mate, how did you manage to get a date with Y/L/N? How did you get her to ask you on a date?” Peter pushed closer to Remus and jokingly added, “Oh Moony, you know love potions are illegal to give to other students, correct?” Remus shoved Peter aside and looked for James for help.

“It’s not a date! Prongs?” 

James put his hands up in defense, “Not me, Moons, I can’t help you as I think you’ve just scored yourself a date with Y/N. But, what I can help you with is Lewis as I think he’s going to absolutely fuck you up by the looks of it,” James stood up and did the ‘I see you’ motion towards Howard and yelled, “Oi, Leeeeewis, you jealous? Yeah, you better be. Fix your bloody eyes, mate, you’ve got a starin’ problem!” 

This time, Remus actually did slam his head into the breakfast table.

Lunch flew by and Remus couldn’t do anything but fiddle. He had run to and from the common room and dorms, a few times just to ensure he had all the right things. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Was this a date? Did you want to date him? Why him? Remus flopped down on the couch next to Sirius and buried his face in his hands.

“Alright, I give up. I need your help,” he mumbled,

“You? Ask ME for help? The god of dating and sex himself?” Sirius asked dramatically, placing a hand on his chest and inhaling sharply.

“Oh will you just- sod off will you? And just tell me, exactly how you flirt?”

“Moony we only have a few hours, I cannot possibly teach you the essence of the Black seduction in a few hours.”  

“The only thing you’ll be seeing is black unless you-” 

Sirius shot his head back and laughed, “Relax Moony, perhaps we should do some yoga to loosen you up. Are your buttocks in a twist? You can tell me.” Suddenly Remus regretted asking Sirius for help but took notes on his flirting technique anyways.

“Oh hello! Come join me, please!” Remus felt everything he had eaten and all of his organs drop, his tongue swelled up and he began to sweat under his sweater. Seeing you in the fall light made him internally (and externally) swoon but he attempted to take a deep breath. He began to try and mimic the way Sirius walked through the halls, putting swagger in his hips. “Remus, you’re being silly, perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with your silly boys, come sit! Don’t be shy.” You smiled again, making Remus forget the stupid stupid walk he learned from Sirius and just sat down. 

“You were right,” he said in surprise, “this blanket is extremely soft.”

“Would I lie to you, Mr. Lupin? Feel free to lie on it, I’ve taken a few naps on it ‘mself, though I probably should’ve focused on my potions essay instead.” Remus would rather nap on your soft thighs and feel your fingers slide through his hair, but he chuckled and replied,

“If I did, who would study with you?”

You pouted your lip slightly, making Remus clench the book he was taking out, “I suppose you’re right. I couldn’t fathom studying with anyone else.” Were you flirting with him? You seemed to lean closer to Remus, wanting to feel his warmth. But, Remus couldn’t place whether or not you were acting flirtatious due to the immense amount of nerves in his system. The two of you began to study, Remus would provide a word and you a definition. Much to his nervous delight, your conversation ran rather smoothly and no awkward lull of silence was provided. 

Might as well go for it, Remus thought and glanced at the piece of parchment he tucked away in his bag. He cleared his throat and rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants.

“So, Y/N...” he trailed off, almost getting lost again in your gaze, 

“Yes?”

“You’re so cute, I think if, I think if you were, I think if you were a boggart, no,” he fumbled quickly with his words making you furrow your eyebrow. 

Perhaps he is having a stroke? You thought.

“If, I think. If you were a... since you’re so cute, and if, a boggart you were, or I’d have... you’d be a.. cute... one?” If Remus could die, he would’ve. On the spot. If he could be struck by lightning and guided to the pearly gates that muggles seem to dream about, he would. In fact, he would even rather be sent to the fiery pits of hell than listen to what he was saying. His attempt at flirting had gone disastrously as he licked his lips in anticipation of your reply. He watched as you looked at him and began to blink rapidly. A wide smile spread across your lips as you let a small laugh slip out.

“Remus Lupin,” You began, sitting up, “Are you flirting with me?” You continued to giggle, almost shyly. 

“What? No! I mean, yes. Maybe? Because I said, the boggart, and cute and...” 

Remus Lupin, you are an idiot. He thought

“I’m not very good at flirting, am I?” he stared at your smiling face before realizing how mortifying the last minute of his life was. “Excuse me while I jump into the lake now.” You bit your lip to stifle the laughter and held his forearm.

“Remus,” you said softly, “I thought it was quite lovely actually.” 

He sighed and shook his head, “you don’t have to protect my feelings, Y/N, I’m more than happy to die over his embarrassing moment. I feel like a right and foolish prat right about now.”

“I’ll say it again, I thought it was very sweet. I’ve never been flirted before, so it was new for me as well.” Remus’ eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as he became redder and shook his head.

“No no, that’s not true. I know half a dozen Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who are mad for you! And Howard Lewis even asks you out every Saturday!” 

Now it was your turn to be confused, “What are you talking about, Remus?”

“The... the!!” Remus was exasperated, “boys fancy you.”

“No, they don’t?” You began making Remus want to rip his hair out.

“Yes, they do!”

“Remus, no boy has fancied me in the entirety of my life, you must be mad.”

“Well, I fancy you!” He blurted out making you instantly blush,

“Oh.” 

“Yes. And. I’m terribly and dreadfully awful at flirting but I wanted to try and show you that I do actually, um, like you.”

“Oh,” It became quiet, not silent, but quiet. “Well, I,”

“Y/N, you don’t have to say anything, we can forget about it and just study.” You tried to speak again but he cut you off, “Really, it’s okay. It was foolish and stupid and dumb and immature-”

“Don’t I get to say anything, Mr. Flirtatious?” You teased and brushed off your skirt, “I fancy you as well if you didn’t pick that up already, and truthfully, I did find your flirting, while disastrous, to be extremely and utterly adorable.” Remus blinked before an awkward, toothy smile rose. “I’m glad we got that settled then, yeah?” You nodded at Remus before he continued after you, 

“Now, may I at least ask you a few questions?”

You hummed in response.

“So is, is this a date?” 

“Do you want it to be?” you asked,

“Yes.”

“Then it’s a date.”

“Lovely,” Remus felt more and more joyous, “now, did you really not know that every boy in Hogwarts was pining over you?”

You quickly shook your head, “Why would I? I haven’t given a care about any of them until you came ‘round.”

“And the blanket?”

“I brought the blanket so we could read and lay on it,”

Remus was satisfied with his answers and longed to lean in to kiss you. He, and his absolutely dumb-witted nerves, decided to save it for a second date and held your hand instead. Fingers threaded and interlocked, you gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“That reminds me, do you have that extra book in your bag I seemed to have misplaced mine and I-” you reached into Remus’ bag and before he could react, you pulled out the piece of parchment with all the bloody pickup lines Sirius had fed him.

“Is this...?” You asked,

“Yes.” He quickly answered. Your eyes scanned the page in amusement.

“Why didn’t you go with ‘Are you a snitch? Because you’re the greatest catch here,’ I think that one is much better suited than ‘uh, cute, boggart, uh, you, and if I were,” you mocked him jokingly before leaning back comfortably on his chest. He could sing with happiness and leap off the face of the Earth.

“Hey, so maybe flirting isn’t my strong suit.”

“I say this as sweetly as I can, I think you better stick to Transfigurations instead.”       

[heliads]

What We Are

You’ve hated Draco Malfoy from the moment you met him at the Sorting Ceremony all those years ago. However, you have the strangest feeling that things are changing between the two of you- like just maybe, you like him more than you thought.

masterlist

You are eleven years old, small and swallowed up by the dark cloth of your school robes. You’re filling through the main aisle of the Great Hall, surrounded by a cluster of other anxious first years. Four long tables stretch down the room, two on each side of the hall and each filled with chattering students. Four banners hang at the end of the hall- ruby, emerald, gold, sapphire. One for each house. You’ve been briefed on the houses and their qualities by a newly formed friend, one Hermione Granger, but you’re still nervous. You don’t entirely know which one you belong to, although you have an inkling as to which one should be avoided.

Professor McGonagall begins listing off the names one at a time, and the subsequent first-years file up to her, place the worn Sorting Hat on their head, and receive their assigned House. After a while, your name is eventually called, and you make your way to the front. The Sorting Hat considers for a time, then a smile crawls across its weathered fabric features. “SLYTHERIN!” The word is shouted across the hall, and you feel a sinking pit yawn open in your stomach. Slytherin? That was the one house you were supposed to avoid.

You make brief eye contact with your new friend Hermione, who looks about as stricken as you feel, before settling into a place at the Slytherin table. The emerald-clad students around you clap you on the back, issuing congratulations, but you still feel uneasy. Wouldn’t it have been better to go to Ravenclaw, where all the smartest students belonged? Or brave Gryffindor, or dedicated Hufflepuff? Anywhere would be better than ambitious, cunning, snakelike Slytherin.

A boy seated one space down looks at you, taking in your glum expression. He has striking platinum blond hair, and appears to be a first year just like yourself. “Don’t look so upset. You got into the best house there is, you know. All of the students who go to Slytherin end up being the greatest lot here.” For some reason, the condescendingly arrogant tone of the boy gets to you, and you shoot back a haughty reply. “If all Slytherin students are like you, I don’t fancy staying here at all.” The boy’s expression changes into a glare, and he glowers at you for the rest of the dinner.

That boy would turn out to be Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House’s most famous elitist. The two of you would hate each other ever since that night, and that feeling of utter loathing would continue for years. You’re now far older than you had been as a wee little first year, and so is Draco, but your attitude towards him hasn’t changed a bit. He’s just so conceited, so full of himself- and you’re no better, you know that, but at least you try to hide it.

However, you were lucky enough to score yourself a bunch of friends who knew exactly why you hated Draco, and happened to feel the exact same way. Hermione had been your best friend ever since that first day on the Hogwarts Express, and you had introduced yourself to Harry and Ron around the same time she did. Now the four of you were a regular fixture on the grounds, and you wouldn’t change it for anything, even a few of the haughtier Slytherins (read: Draco Malfoy) made sure to mention that one of their house shouldn’t be mixing with the Gryffindors.

However, you didn’t really care what they thought. Yes, you were a Slytherin, and that meant a good many things: pride, ambition, and a thick skin in terms of others doubting you. So you became even better friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione just to spite them. You often found yourself with them at the Quidditch games, walking across the grounds, sneaking out of your dormitory late at night for a couple of misadventures, or now, with you and Hermione studying together at a table out in a corner of a stone hall. 

One of the problems of being a Slytherin friend of three Gryffindors is that they could never go back to your common room to study with you, and you certainly weren’t allowed into their common room. Fred and George had offered to sneak you in loads of times, and you technically had been there before under Harry’s invisibility cloak, but for right now, you and Hermione were content to stay away from the roaring fires and plush red armchairs of the Gryffindor common room to work on a particularly gruesome Potions essay. You both wanted to finish it early, Hermione especially so she could then go teach it to Harry and Ron, so you stayed out of the lion’s dorm until you were adequately prepared.

Hermione sighs at the paper in front of her, wrinkling her brow in consternation. “Honestly, what does all of this even mean? I swear, Professor Snape’s directions get worse and worse with every assignment.” You nod fervently. “This prompt makes no sense, and I’ve been staring at it for the last fifteen minutes.” You drum your fingers on the table, thinking, then stand up. “I’m going to get that Potions primer from the library. You know, the one we were reading earlier? I thought I saw some similar wording in one of the chapters, and at any rate, I need an excuse to go stretch my legs. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Hermione waves goodbye as you head off down the stone corridors. The walk towards the library takes you across the courtyard, and you’re glad for the refreshing bite of the wind, even if it leaves your cheeks raw from the chill. You traipse inside the halls once more, twisting around corners until you reach the library, and gratefully slip through the doors to reach the towering bookcases crowding the room.

You stride purposefully through the shelves until you come to the row you’re looking for at last. Your eyes scan the titles in front of you, and you think you’re almost at the book until a familiar figure steps into the space right next to you. You don’t even have to look up to recognize him. You’ve seen his unwanted presence too many times for a case of mistaken identity.

Draco speaks first. “I’m surprised to see you, L/N. I didn’t think reading was one of your strong suits.” You raise an eyebrow, still perusing the books on the shelf. “Those are strong words coming from somebody who hit his peak academic performance as a weasel in the fourth year.” Draco rolls his eyes. “Ferret, not a weasel.” You look over at him at last, but can’t help a small grin. “Does it really matter? It was still a small animal, and it was still you.”

Draco heaves some dramatic and egotistical sigh, but folds his arms over his chest and stays put. He’s not looking for books, just standing there. In fact, his eyes keep flickering over to the corner of the library, near the door. You straighten up, following his gaze in confusion. “What are you doing?” You ask him, still trying to figure out what he’s looking at with such unease. “You don’t usually go out of your way to enjoy my company and you also keep staring at the door.”

Draco starts to mutter something about how not all of the library belongs to you, but you cut him off with a gasp of delight. “You’re hiding from Pansy Parkinson! She’s over there looking for you, and you’re trying to make sure she can’t see you by hiding behind all the bookshelves!” You laugh, and then start to raise your voice, as if you’re about to call her over. Instantly, Draco leans over you, pushing you against the bookcase and holding his wand against your throat.

“Don’t say a word.” His voice is cool and low. A teasing grin flickers across your lips, and you push his wand away with one finger. “What, you going to hex me, Malfoy? In the middle of the library? I think that would draw your favorite girl over here more than anything.” Draco just stares daggers at you, breath coming harshly in his chest. He stares there, unmoving, until you jerk your chin towards the doors. “Pansy’s gone. Now can you please let go of me?”

Draco waits a moment just to spite you, and then releases his grip on your wrist. You snatch your hand away from him with an air of disgust, and grab your potions book off of the shelf. “Never do that again.” You hiss at him, and stalk away. Who does he think he is, that lout? You’re still storming over the incident the whole way back to the table, and barely notice that Harry and Ron have joined you until you throw yourself back into your seat.

Hermione looks up at your abrupt arrival. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” You heave a sigh of irritation. “Draco Malfoy, that’s what’s wrong. I ran into that lowlife in the library. I just can’t stand him.” Harry nods knowingly, but Ron, who appears to be in an even worse mood than you, rolls his eyes. “Oh, stop complaining. You’re a Slytherin, he isn’t as bad to you.” This is entirely the wrong thing to say, and you know you should just ignore him but you’re still fired up from the confrontation in the library.

“Are you saying that Malfoy’s not as mean to me because I’m from his house?” Ron nods, ignoring Hermione pointedly shaking her head at him in an attempt to get him to stay quiet. “Yeah, I am. You keep pretending like he’s such a jerk to you, but you don’t have it half as bad as the rest of us. Honestly, you need to stop making such a big deal out of nothing.” You know you’re overreacting, but you can’t take Ron’s griping, not today. You stand up, slamming your books shut and sweeping your parchment and quills into your bag. 

“In that case, I suppose you don’t need my nothing when it comes to your potions essay. Good luck figuring that out.” You glance over at Hermione. “I’m sorry to leave in a rush, but I should be on my way. Swing by later if you need help.” Hermione says her chagrined goodbyes, and as you stalk away from the table, you can hear her laying into Ron already. The sound brings a smile to your face.

You’re still fuming over Draco and Ron and the god-awful Potions essay the next day, and your irritation must show because Pansy takes advantage of the opportunity to cross paths with you as you’re walking through the halls. She’s chattering with a group of her friends in the courtyard, and as you hurry past, you hear her call something out to you. “Oh look, there’s Y/N. You know, she looks surprisingly proud for someone who’s father is a mudblood-lover. Maybe she’s alright with it.”

Your footsteps slow, and you turn back to face Pansy. You know that this is just what she wants, but you’ve got a burning feeling in the back of your head that tells you that if you let one more person walk all over you you’ll never be able to deal with yourself again. You eye Pansy coolly. “What was that, Parkinson?” Pansy smirks, victorious. “I heard a rumor that your father was getting a little too close to some Muggles. That would certainly tarnish your reputation, wouldn’t it? And here I was, thinking that the L/Ns were an upstanding wizarding family, but I guess not. It looks like-”

You feel like you’re a couple of seconds away from punching Pansy right in her arrogantly prissy face, but before you can try to argue yourself out of violence another boy steps up beside you. You groan inwardly when you realize it’s Draco. Great, another person to make fun of you, because this day wasn’t going badly enough already. However, he doesn’t join in the laughter. In fact, he shoots a glare at Pansy. “Amazing, Parkinson. Did you finally realize that your own family was so low that you had to make up rumors to get anywhere? Although, you might want to stay away from the Muggle story. I think it might be a little too true on your end.”

Pansy’s face blanches, and she starts stammering something about how that couldn’t possibly be true and she has no idea what Draco’s talking about. You stare at Draco in amazement, and he turns back to you. “Let’s go. I don’t feel like wasting any more of our time.” With that, the two of you strut away across the courtyard, leaving Pansy behind to make up excuses to her group of friends.

Only when you’re out of hearing distance from Pansy do you finally let yourself relax. You look over at Draco, unable to stop yourself from laughing. “What was that about? Is it really true about Pansy’s family?” Draco, surprisingly, is grinning as well. “I don’t know, but she didn’t seem like she could deny it.” The two of you carry on in hilarity for a while, but then you turn to him, grin slipping away from your face. “Why did you do that?” Draco frowns. “Do what?” You gesture idly behind you with your hand. “Defend me against Parkinson. I would have thought you’d join in instead of having my back.”

Draco shrugs, looking down the hallway. “We’re supposed to be enemies, aren’t we? I don’t feel like having my rival limited by false rumors. It would lower me too.” You look at him askance. “You publicly insulted Pansy Parkinson just because you think that me being called names hurts you as well?” Draco shrugs. “Why did you think I did it?” You sigh, furrowing your brow. “I don’t know.”

Even after you and Draco turn down separate hallways, you find yourself still thinking about him. Why would he defend you? It makes no sense. You even think back to that moment in the library, and realize that he wasn’t really as cruel as you had thought. All he had done then was exchange the usual retorts, although those had the same joking tinge as always. And wasn’t it strange that of all the places to hide, he had chosen your aisle? It could have just been a coincidence, or maybe he was seeking you out intentionally.

You’re not sure how you feel about this. You’ve grown so used to thinking of Draco as an enemy, someone to be hated, that you don’t quite know what to do when he is nice to you. You find your eyes flickering his way in the common room, or your gaze constantly catching on his silhouette as he walks past you in the halls. You usually never spend this much time thinking about him, but now, he seems to be everywhere.

One night, you can’t focus on your homework. Between the smoky atmosphere of the Slytherin common room or the mind-twisting Transfiguration tasks McGonagall’s set for you, you just can’t seem to get your thoughts in order. Eventually, you close up your books and decide to head to the Astronomy Tower. The cool night air will clear your head, and you’ll still technically be doing homework because you’ll be studying the stars.

You’re grateful for the still emptiness of the tower. You prop your arms up against the stone edge of the balcony, letting your shoulders slump as you consider the dizzying drop to the grounds below. You tilt your head up slightly, letting the wind trace patterns against your skin. You’re just beginning to feel peaceful once again when you hear the door to the Astronomy Tower open and a figure joins you on the turret. You sigh inwardly when you recognize the familiar shock of white-blond hair. Of course- Draco always goes to the Astronomy Tower as a place to unwind. Then you’re surprised as to why that fact popped so readily into your head, and how you even knew that in the first place.

Draco’s steps falter for a second when he realizes he’s not alone. You start to move away from the balcony. “Here, I’ll go. You can have the tower to yourself.” You turn around to find yourself caught in Draco’s gaze, those storm grey eyes pinning you in place. Draco shakes his head just slightly, and his voice echoes across the stone room. “No, don’t go. It’s alright.” You hesitate for a moment, then turn back to the view before you. Your eyes follow the line of trees dotting the grounds, the twisting snakes of rivers that feed into the Black Lake.

After a moment, Draco joins you at the balcony. He leans up against the stone, just a few inches away from you. You both stand there in silence, unable to say a word. At last, Draco turns to you. “What are we?” You return his gaze, slightly confused. “What?” Draco looks away for just a second, and then his eyes return to you. “When we first met, we hated each other. We’ve been rivals for years, and now-” He breaks off. “I don’t think we dislike each other anymore. I don’t think we have for a while.” You stay silent for a second, taking in his words. Then you nod.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? It isn’t just me?” For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, spoken too rashly. Draco stares at you, then he leans forward and kisses you. When he breaks away, panic and regret flash through his eyes when you don’t say anything. He starts to move away, but you step towards him and kiss him again. This time, he doesn’t break away, not immediately. His hand slides up to the small of your back, the stone of the balcony cool against your legs.

You can still feel his hand on your waist when he breaks away. You look away, sure you’ve made some mistake that you’ll regret in the morning, but then his fingers are lightly pressed against your cheek, guiding you back to look at him again. He looks less sure of anything than you’ve ever seen him, but all of a sudden that doubt is replaced by a calm determination. “This is right. This is what we were supposed to be.” You nod quietly, letting your hesitation break free with a smile. He’s right, isn’t he? No matter how it felt to win all the arguments or competitions with him, this moment right now feels far better than anything before it. This is what you always wanted, and what he wants as well.

[siriusmydeer]

can i request some james potter fluff ? p much anything im literally a soft bitch for him. i’ve been super into the idea of j dancing around to music w him bc i wanna see his wide smile and sparking eyes bUt anything you want my dear

everlasting love

james potter x gender neutral!reader

summary: you and james share a dance in his dormitory.

word count: 0.7k

warnings: kissing, mentions of getting hurt, immense fluff

the sway of the beat drifted and erupted through the creaking pleated floor boards boisterously as james grasped at your hand, obnoxiously spinning you around the absent dormitory by the gleaming window with sun rays rapidly shining into the room.

every single marauder except for the bespectacled one was away for a hogsmeade trip collecting items at zonkos for their newest pranks, leaving you and the brunette boy alone for the remainder of the day. his dark tendrils sweeping over his cerulean irises that happen to infinitely gleam in adoration as long as you were in his viewpoint.

his eyes telling a story of benevolence, jubilation, and clarity behind them. the flecks of navy and azure glistening in his cerulean irises, as his eyes slightly creased at the sides, causing minuscule fine lines in its wake, while chuckling at your frightful dancing as you paraded around his searing dormitory.

the rings of lapis ringing around his irises as his pupils contorted wider at his solicitude for you. the david bowie song almost unpleasantly loud to any other gryffindor schoolmates that had been sat in the vermillion common room or along the way of the hallway that had the remainder of gryffindor students.

his hands taking a grasp at your exposed hips as your arms were raised, levelling them down to his biceps now feeling the crinkle of fabric beneath his palms whilst you chuckled at his adorations for your silhouette.

his sway slightly slowing down at the hast music erupting through his dormitory, his forehead placed upon the flushed skin of your own. the heaving breaths shared between the two teenagers whilst you both had begun to calm down from the prancing every square inch of the room for the last few hours.

he sponged a small kiss on your nose mid-breath, encasing his palms around your face as he grinned with elation at the connection being shared between you both. the mutual lining of love and intimacy shared between you both almost daring to be severed but yet, completely intact.

nose to nose, chin to chin, chest to chest, the imaginary spark of shell-pink almost like a rope tied to each one of your hearts connecting you both almost with an unbreakable charm set on it. the exceeding wrap of your arms around his torso, the way his body could perfectly fit into your own— despite the engaging height difference a-swell as size he was yet to think that anyone else could fit perfectly into his heart the way you could.

the way your palms where encased around his flush beating heart, his entirety content with tenderness for you. he was tremendously surprised on how one singular person could flip his life around, the way you could make his brain scramble in thoughts, the bleary headspace full of adoration you could set his mind into after simply pecking the crease between his brows.

the way his hands glided from your cheeks into the root of your tresses, the tufts thick between his digits and he landed a small kiss on the cushion of your lips; pulling him abundantly closer by the waist his head tilted slightly at your yearning for his lips, the sponge of his lips caressing yours throughly with intimacy in the middle of his dormitory. the amount of abundance you shared between the strawberry glossed kiss and the previous panting chests was opulent.

the way his eyes would glisten at your figure when you had been turned away, the mocking kiss you sent him whilst he was seething through the air whilst heavily clutched on the quaffle during a quidditch match, the small comforting caresses you both had shared in the late nights of his dormitory after particularly difficult full moons, with immense disquietude broiling in your veins.

the way your eyes has glimmered at him in this very moment, full of abundance, elation and endearment.

the endearment you had carried for james was everlasting.

only for the spectacled boy who’s circular glasses laid too low, who hexed fourth year ravenclaws when they barked a laugh at you for rolling your ankle on the moving stairs, the boy whos world revolved around you.

“i love you, james.”

his benevolence was simply everlasting.

“i love you, more, y/n.”

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