#why hogwarts houses are useless

[bpbpskpskp]

the credibility of hogwarts house sortings comes down to 1. if the sorting hat has prophetic powers and 2. nature vs nurture

at 11, theyre just about hitting puberty and shit gets fucked with hornones and stuff. they could act in ooc ways, different to how they would normally. theyre also children, so they have no time to actually develop a personality. i havent been in the hp fandom for a bit, so my memories are a bit muddled, but i dont think childhood memories are very accurate in choosing where they should go.

some may be definite, like someone being exceedingly manipulative and sly as a kid becoming slytherin, or someone unafraid to speak up and defend others consistently bei by gryffindor. what about the general ones?

average smarts, not very ambitious, wont speak up for someone bring bullied or something. they dont fit in anywhere. where do they go?

it would be entirely based on their thoughts that very moment. that wouldnt be reliable in any way.

its true that theyd probably change to fit the stereotypes of their assigned house, but theres no way to know of its good or bad change unless the hat has prophetic powers and could see the persons future.

if the multiverse theory is true, that means the hat would have to review infinite different futures for that one person. they would practically never end, as the universes are affected by other people too. its impossible for the hat to choose based on that. thats too much.

and did i just forget that harry convinced the hat to put him in gryffindor? to be fair, trying to do that in itself is a gryffindor move, trying to reason with a weird mind reading hat. that would feel like an invasion of privacy, and very uncomfortable. harry was very ballsy.

the initial sorting process is reliable, but not very accurate in some cases, if it can be convinced so easily.

then, we don’t even know if they stay accurate. we’ve established that the hat probably can’t see the future and that eleven year old children arent fully developed.

the first thing that comes to mind are burnt out gifted kids in ravenclaw.

ravenclaws are there because they’re smart. that is the simple truth. but what if they experience burnout? their grades drop, they stop turning in homework, they skip. suddenly, the supposed ‘ravenclaw’ doesn’t exhibit any stereotypical ravenclaw traits. why are they still there? they could get resorted, but that’s never been mentioned in the books.

wouldnt it be embarrassing to go up to the hat like all the little firsties? watching the shoddily concealed disappointment in everyone’s eyes as they see a disgraced ravenclaw, unable to take the pressure that everyone else in their house could. there would always be something different about them, never fitting in with anybody else in their new house.

the house rivalries splitting friends apart, people who they’ve been with since the very start. there would be shame in their eyes, pitying gazes trailing then as they walk down the hall, not making eye contact with anybody.

its obvious that the teachers are not used to them being in that house. they stumble on roll call, almost asking where the formerly bright student would be, then they catch themselves. they do a double take when observing the class, wondering why they would be in the room.

omg wait i got so sidetracked. jkjk its 3am and im dying to write a fanfic but i know i don’t have the dedication so i guess it spilled here?

anyways it’s very likely that students would change to fit a different house over time. still, not as many would become the best version of themself if they weren’t confined to their house.

u know that one line in zootopia? ‘if the world is only going to see a fox as shifty and untrustworthy, there’s no point in being anything else.’ it was something along those lines.

the students would probably subconsciously try to fit in with the stereotypes for their house, therefore developing a personality that vaguely fits with what they’re ‘supposed to be like’.

sorting just stunts the students’ growth as people. it is unnecessary. they should be like middle schools where they give a house but it’s just a colour and they aren’t actually seperated like that unless it’s sports events. even so, nobody really cares about that.

dictating how people are going to live their entire lives by a few minutes wearing a hat is literally the worst way to have a future.

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ No time to die. ✦ 」

Tom riddle x reader

Summary: Blind devotion. That's what it had been. For years, I'd been hopelessly enamored with Tom Riddle, his charm and intellect blinding me to the crimson flags that fluttered in the periphery. I ignored the whispers, the unease that gnawed at the edges of my comfort. He was Tom, my Tom, and love, I believed, conquered all.Then, the truth shattered my carefully constructed world. I stumbled upon his darkest secret , But even with the truth laid bare, the question remained: would he let me go?

Warnings: smut ,angst,strong language

Words:3,7k

The crisp autumn air whipped at my cheeks as I practically skipped back to Tom's.We'd spent the past year inseparable, and it was the happiest I'd ever been. He was everything I ever dreamed of – My entire life felt like a love letter to Tom Riddle.

Reaching the front door, a surge of anticipation bubbled up inside me. I fumbled with my key, eager to surprise Tom with my return. As I pushed the door open, the sound of hushed voices drifted from the sitting room. My smile faltered.

One voice, Tom's, smooth and familiar, the other, sharper, belonged to Avery. Curiosity tugged at me, so I tiptoed closer, pressing my ear against the partially closed door.

"Don't go soft now, Tom," Avery drawled. "We all know she's just part of your plan, right?"

A cold dread slithered down my spine. "She's useful, Avery," Tom replied, his voice devoid of the warmth he usually reserved for me. "She's the brightest witch in her year, and her understanding of Hogwarts will be invaluable. Besides," he added, a chilling nonchalance in his tone, "I know what I'm doing."

My heart hammered against my ribs. What plan? What did he mean by 'useful'? The pieces of seemingly unconnected events slammed together in my mind - the "accidents" that plagued his rivals, the mysterious illness that sent a student to Azkaban – all the whispers I'd brushed aside.

A wave of nausea washed over me. The truth, stark and horrifying, slammed into me - Tom hadn't loved me. He'd used me.

Before I could react, the conversation ended abruptly. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears back. My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob, the urge to flee the only thing driving me.

The door creaked open, revealing a startled Avery, who paled at the sight of me. He stammered something about leaving and practically bolted past me. My gaze darted to Tom, his face an unreadable mask.

The devastation was so profound, it felt like my world was shattering around me. The man I loved, the man I'd trusted with my heart, was a stranger – a monster.

I stumbled back, a strangled cry escaping my lips. Tom lunged for me, but I twisted away, my scream echoing in the empty house. Tears streamed down my face as I bolted past him, the need to escape overwhelming. He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly tight, but I fought back with a strength I didn't know I possessed.

“Don't touch me!" I screamed, yanking my arm away from his grasp. "How could you?" The words tumbled out, choked with betrayal. "All this time... you were just using me?"

Tom's eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something else in them – ? Regret? It didn't matter.

"You were the best witch in your year," he said, his voice tight. "I needed someone smart, someone who could understand Hogwarts, its secrets..."

His justifications fell on deaf ears. This wasn't the Tom I thought I knew. This was a stranger, a monster cloaked in the face of the boy I loved.

My struggle was useless. Tom's grip on my arm felt like iron, his face a mask of cold calculation that shattered the image of the boy I loved. "Stop moving," he hissed, his voice tight. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Why?" I shrieked, the word raw with betrayal. "Why are you doing this?"

He didn't answer. The silence was deafening, filled only with the frantic thump of my heart. My pleas turned into a desperate mantra. "Why, Tom? Why?!"

He remained silent, his grip tightening a fraction. The pain spurred a fresh wave of fury. I screamed again, clawing at his arm, anything to break free. He finally reacted, hauling me off the ground with surprising ease.

"Let me go!" I screamed, my voice hoarse. "You're a monster!"

"I know, love," he said, the word a cruel mockery on his lips.

"Don't call me that! Let me go!"

Ignoring my pleas, he marched towards the door, his face a stony mask. Panic clawed at my throat. "Tom, don't," I choked out, my voice thick with tears.

Then, the world slammed shut. He yanked open the door and shoved me into a room I didn't recognize, He threw me onto the bed, my breath catching in my throat. But I was up in a flash, scrambling towards the door. "Tom, don't you dare!" I shrieked, my voice choked with tears.

"We will talk," he cut me off, his voice strangely calm considering the storm raging inside me. He reached down, his fingers brushing against mine. I recoiled as if burned.

The click of the lock echoed in the room like a death knell. Panic surged through me. I spun around, scrambling towards the windows, clawing at the latches. They were locked too. A strangled sob escaped my lips. Without my wand, I was trapped.

I slammed my fists against the door, the wood groaning under the impact. "Tom! Open the door!" I screamed, my voice hoarse. "You're a monster! I hate you! I will hate you to the day I die!"

My words echoed in the small room, bouncing off the walls. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. "Why?" I sobbed, collapsing onto the floor. "Why did you do this to me, Tom? I really loved you."

The silence stretched on, broken only by my ragged breaths and the quiet tick of the clock on the wall. "Tom?" I croaked, my voice barely a whisper. But there was no answer. Just the relentless tick-tock, reminding me of the time slipping away,

Exhaustion eventually won over the battle raging in my heart. Sleep, even in this state of utter betrayal, felt like torture. Perhaps it was the screaming all night, or the relentless pleas I'd choked out until my voice was raw, but I drifted off into a restless slumber.

A feathery touch against my cheek, then a gentle hand combing through my hair, jolted me awake. I flinched back, scrambling away until the wooden bedframe pressed against my back.

"Don't touch me," I spat, pulling my knees to my chest, a fortress against the world – a world that had suddenly turned monstrous.

"Eat," he said, a neutral tone that sent shivers down my spine. There was food on the nightstand, a silent offering.

"I won't eat anything you offer," I spat back, defiance flickering through the haze of hurt. "Let me go."

A beat of silence stretched between us, taut with tension. Then, a single word, laced with a quiet command that sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down my face. "Eat."

The sound of my own sobs filled the room, a stark contrast to his forced composure. "Stop crying," he said, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

"I said stop crying!" he say, his voice louder this time. The sound of it shattered whatever fragile hope remained inside me.

But I couldn't stop. Tears blurred my vision, each one a silent scream of betrayal and heartbreak

. He reached out a hand, as if to comfort me, but I flinched away, pushing the tears back with the heels of my hands.

"I got you some clothes . Eat and change," he continued, his tone clipped.

Ignoring the food, I met his gaze with eyes filled with a pain that mirrored the wreckage in my heart. "And don't fucking hurt yourself again,"he spat, his gaze dropping to my hand. A jolt of surprise ran through me. He must have cleaned it sometime in the night.

I hadn't even noticed, or maybe I refused to acknowledge it. Looking across the room, I saw the shattered mirror and a single drop of crimson staining its surface. The realization hit me like a physical blow.

"Why? So you can kill me yourself? Like you did to this poor girl ?" I shouted, the accusation ripping from my throat.

"Watch your mouth, Y/n," he warned, his eyes hardening. The look in them brought a fresh wave of tears – tears not just of fear, but of a profound sadness.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Watch your mouth, Y/n," he warned, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The way he spoke to me wasn't just cold, it was cruel.

This couldn't be the same Tom who held me close every chance he got, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world. This wasn't the boy I had loved almost my whole life.

"I look at you and I can't recognize you anymore," I choked out, my voice thick with emotion. "I don't even know who you are now."

He stared at me for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, in a voice devoid of warmth, he finally spoke."Good," he said simply.

Two days bled into one another, a monotonous blur of misery. He'd stormed out of the room after our confrontation, leaving me alone with the deafening silence and the weight of his betrayal.

Each day followed the same cruel script. He'd reappear, a grim expression etched on his face, carrying a tray of food and fresh clothes. The clothes, once a thoughtful touch, now felt like a cruel mockery. A shower was a brief reprieve, the warm water washing away some of the physical grime, but the emotional scars remained raw and open.

Food sat untouched on the nightstand, the sight turning my stomach. The mere thought of putting anything past my lips filled me with a suffocating dread.

Each night, like clockwork, the anger arrived with him. The sight of the full dishes on the nightstand seemed to ignite a fire in his eyes. His voice, once a source of comfort, now dripped with icy contempt.

"You haven't eaten a single thing," he'd sneer, snatching the plate and tossing it onto the bedside table with a clatter. "Do you think this is a game?"

I'd remain silent, staring at the opposite wall, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

It was a constant reminder of the monster I now shared a room with, the man who wore the face of the boy I loved.

The morning light, harsh and unwelcome, streamed through the barred windows, but Tom was nowhere to be seen. My body ached, a dull throb echoing the pain in my heart. Tears, silent and warm, traced paths down my cheeks. Exhaustion gnawed at me, both physical and emotional.

Then, the sound of the lock clicking. I braced myself for Tom's usual stoicism, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. But it wasn't Tom who entered.

My heart lurched. Standing in the doorway were Avery and Lestrange. Once considered friends, their presence now sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through me. The trust, the camaraderie - shattered like the mirror in the room.

Lestrange approached the bed, his expression unreadable. "What are you doing?" I croaked, the words rough from disuse. He didn't answer, simply gripping my hand with surprising strength.

"Easy now, Y/n," Avery said, a placating tone lacing his voice. But the glint of a dagger in his hand shattered the facade. My eyes widened in horror. "Nothing personal."

Terror clawed at my throat. They were going to kill me. My mind raced, searching for a way out, but my voice came out a weak rasp, "No..."

"See, she understands," Lestrange said, his cold gaze unwavering."You know too much, And you've had enough time to decide. But you didn't."

"Decide what?" My vision blurred with fresh tears. Without Lestrange's support, I would have collapsed.

"To serve the Dark Lord," he replied.

"I... I don't understand," I whimpered, tears blurring my vision.

The Dark Lord? Who was that? My mind was a whirlwind of confusion, but before I could voice the question, Lestrange dragged me from the bed. I tried to fight back, but my body was a leaden weight.

"Sorry, Y/n," Avery muttered, his voice laced with a strange regret.

The Dark Lord? Who was he talking about? But before I could get another word out, a searing pain shot through my wrists as Lestrange twisted them behind my back.

"Get it over with, Avery," Lestrange muttered, a hint of annoyance lacing her voice. "I'm not enjoying this. She was my friend."

"No! No, Avery!" I screamed, my voice raw with terror as I thrashed against their hold. "Don't do this!"

"Just one swift cut, you won't feel a thing," Avery said, his voice cold and detached.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable.A choked sob escaped my lips. This couldn't be happening. Not like this.

But then, a voice ripped through the room, a voice I wouldn't have recognized if not for the flicker of something familiar in its depths.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

My eyes snapped open at the sound. Tom stood between me and Avery, his face a mask of fury. He twisted Avery's wrist with a sickening crack, the dagger clattering to the floor. In a swift movement, he pulled me from Lestrange's grip, holding me close.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice laced with a concern that sent a jolt through me. I shook my head, clinging to him as if my life depended on it. Maybe, in that moment, it did.

"She already knew too much, Tom," Avery whined, cradling his injured hand. "We thought it would be too much for you to do it yourself, so we decided..."

"And you thought wrong," Tom snarled, his voice icy. "You'll pay for this, both of you. Get out of my sight."

Avery and Lestrange exchanged a frightened glance before nodding hastily.

"Yes, my Lord," they chorused, their voices dripping with fear.

Lord? He was their Lord? He's... he's the Dark Lord? The weight of the revelation crashed down on me, shattering the remnants of the Tom I thought I knew.

"He… he called you… my Lord?" My voice trembled as the weight of the revelation crashed down on me.

He carried me gently off the ground, my strength completely gone.my body too weak to protest. I laid my head against his chest .

He settled me back onto the bed, his fingers gently brushing my hair away from my tear-streaked face., "Did they hurt you ,love ?" he asked, his voice soft, his touch a stark contrast to the cold fury I'd witnessed moments ago.

"Please don't hurt me," I stammered, fear still clinging to me like a shroud. "Please, Tom." The name tumbled from my lips, a plea laced with a shred of the hope I desperately wanted to believe in.

His face softened, a flicker of the Tom I knew battling with the darkness lurking in his eyes. "I will never hurt you," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my raw nerves.

But the words felt hollow. "I don't believe you," I choked out, a sob escaping my lips. "It hurts too much."

He didn't try to deny it. "I know," he whispered, his own voice thick with emotion.

He ignored my resistance when he began feeding me, his touch surprisingly gentle. He even helped me change, discarding the tear-stained shirt for a clean one. But I remained silent, a shell of the girl I once was.

The terror still gnawed at me, manifesting in flinches and skittish glances. Every rustle, every creak of the floorboards sent a jolt of fear through me. The nightmare I'd lived through seemed burned into my memory.

Finally, the silence stretched too thin. "Will you kill me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hung heavy in the air, a test.

His eyes widened, a flicker of genuine pain crossing his face. "No," he said, his voice firm.

"You lied to me," I accused him, my voice flat with a cold anger.

He didn't argue. "Yes," he conceded.

"You used me," I spat, the words laced with hurt.

"I did," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

"You hurt me," I whispered, the words heavy with betrayal.

"You said you loved me," I said, tears welling up in my eyes again.

He met my gaze, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. "I do," he said, his voice thick with a desperation that tugged at my heartstrings. "I do,"

"I was conceived under a love potion," he admitted, his voice laced with a bitterness I hadn't heard before. "My mother used it on my father. They say that's why I'm incapable of feeling love."

He took my hand, his fingers cool against my skin, and pressed it to his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat echoed beneath my palm, a powerful counterpoint to the erratic drumbeat in my chest.

"But now it beats," he continued, "For you. Just for you."

His words hung in the air, heavy and unbelievable. A love potion? A life devoid of love?How could this be? Everything I thought I knew about him, about love, was crumbling around me.

Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision. He'd said he loved me before, a million times, but this was different. This was raw, unfiltered, a torrent of emotion that resonated in the very core of my being.

"And you thought I would hurt you?" he asked. "Kill you? You, the best thing I have ever had, the only thing I truly care about in this stupid world? Y/n, you, my darling, are the only person I love, I didn’t mean a word from what I said I don’t trust anyone enough to show them my weakness, I would burn this world down to a cinder for you."

His words were fierce, possessive, yet laced with a tenderness I'd never known existed within him.

"I'm not lying," he said, his gaze searching my tear-filled eyes. "I was at first. Having you by my side was a strategic move. You're smart, brilliant, innocent, someone I could mold to my cause. But you turned the tables. You, without even trying, made me feel something I never thought possible – love for you. Something they said was impossible. And you know what? losing doesn't feel like defeat. It feels like the greatest victory."

"It’s impossible they say ," he said, a bitter edge to his voice. "But look at me now." He looked down at our hands clasped together, then back up at me, his gaze searching my wet face.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, mirroring the beat beneath my hand.

"How can I believe you, Tom?" I finally managed, the question a mere whisper lost in the storm of emotions raging within me.

His gaze softened, the coldness replaced by a desperate vulnerability. He leaned closer, his eyes searching mine. "Because," he murmured, his voice a husky caress, "from this moment on, I'll spend every waking breath proving it."

His lips brushed against mine,he kissed me, softly at first, his lips brushing against mine in a gentle plea. my body relaxing into his touch.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. I opened to him, welcoming him inside. He tasted like coffee and mint, and something deeper, something that teased him only him, something that made my heart clench with longing.

He pulled away, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling in the quiet room.

" you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ," he whispered, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek.

I believed him, in that moment, I truly did. I could see the love in his eyes, the sincerity in his words.

He laid me down, his body covering mine. His lips found mine again, his kiss slow, deliberate, as if memorizing every inch of me.

His hands roamed my body, his touch setting my skin on fire. He cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples through the fabric of my shirt. I arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips.

He pulled my shirt over my head, his eyes darkening as he took in my bare breasts. He leaned down, his mouth closing around one nipple, his tongue swirling around the hard peak. I cried out, my fingers tangling in his hair.

He moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention. His hand moved lower, his fingers finding the waistband of my pants. He looked up at me, his eyes questioning. I nodded, giving him permission.

He pulled my pants down, his eyes taking in my bare legs, my lace panties. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, pulling them down slowly.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip.He leaned down, his lips pressing against my inner thigh. "And all mine," he added, his voice full of reverence.

He moved higher, his lips brushing against my core. I gasped, my hips bucking up towards him. He took his time, his tongue exploring every inch of me. I was panting, my fingers clutching at the sheets. He looked up at me, his eyes full of lust. "You taste like heaven," he said, his voice full of pride. He held me down, his hands on my hips, his mouth working me to the brink.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with desire. "i got you, come for me, my love," he whispered. And I did, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. I cried out his name, my fingers tangled in his hair. He continued to lick and suck, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

He moved up my body, his mouth finding mine again. I could taste myself on his lips, and it only made me want him more.

I could feel his hard length pressing against me. He reached into his bedside table, pulling out a condom. He rolled it on, his eyes never leaving mine. He positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes full of love and desire. "Use our safeword if you need to." he whispered, his voice full of promise.

He pushed inside me, filling me completely. I cried out, my nails digging into his back. He started to move, his pace slow and deliberate, I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge. He reached down, his fingers finding my clit. He rubbed slow circles, his touch sending me over the edge. “scream my name while you cum” He say , I cried out, my orgasm rushing through me. He thrust into me a few more times before finding his own release.

He collapsed on top of me, his breathing heavy. He rolled off, pulling me into his arms. "I love you," he whispered, his lips pressing against my forehead. "No one will ever hurt you again, not as long as I'm here." His words were laced with a chilling intensity, a darkness I couldn't ignore.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[jishyucks]

Gloves & Dittany ‣ cyj

‣ pairing: slytherin!yeonjun x gryffindor!reader

‣ genre: fluff, hogwarts!au, idiots-to-lovers (on reader’s part), sorta slice-of-life

‣ wc: 13.7k

‣ summary: ❝Sure, your heart might have skipped a beat or two because of Yeonjun, but it was just a momentary flutter, a reaction that didn't hold any significant meaning… Right?❞

↳ Alternatively, where Yeonjun’s flirtatious nature leaves you no choice but to doubt his evident feelings for you and, in turn, dismiss any emotions you may be developing for him

‣warnings?: reader is just,,, confused all the time, prob poor attempts of 'flirting' bc idk how to flirt, side characters may potentially be more entertaining than the mains, reader tends to make playful threats to their friends

‣ an: big thanks to @hoonieji (<3) for reading over more than half of this to build my confidence! anyways the amount of revising this went through is horrifying but I hope it was all worth it! it's so bittersweet that I finished this bc I enjoyed writing it :( I'm going to miss this pair a lot,,, anyways, hope you all enjoy!

‣tags: @flowerjun @forever-in-the-sky2 @yxnjvnnie @cookiehaos @ioveastera @yeonyeonyeonjun @fireheaurt @agustdiv1ne — couldn't tag @shwizhies

I. HEARTS IN HERBOLOGY

Over the years you've spent at Hogwarts, your love for Herbology has blossomed into a deep passion. Contrary to what your peers say about the class being boring and useless, you believe they couldn't be more wrong. Herbology is an underrated and misunderstood subject that offers unique elements not found in other classes.

At first glance, certain plants looked welcoming, but from what you’ve learned, the most attractive herbs can be the most deadliest. This could even work the other way around. Growth patterns of the plants can directly affect its magical properties, which explains why the professors created emphasis on the care for plants. 

Although Herbology looked like any other ordinary subject at Hogwarts, there were a lot more layers to its content. You suppose this was the reason why you grew to love the subject.

“What’s the difference between you and those flowers over there?”

Enter Choi Yeonjun. The main reason why advanced Herbology isn't the perfect class for you, and you mean that in the kindest way possible. Yeonjun is something else. While you hope to simply enjoy the class, he sees it as an opportunity to engage in endless conversation. You once joked with him that his voice could win a competition against a mandrake for being the most ear-piercing, but, surprisingly, he took no offense to this. 

To make matters worse, a significant portion of his chatter is dedicated to shamelessly flirting with you. Despite months of this routine, he always finds new ways to keep things interesting, and you have to admit, it's quite impressive.

It was strange how all this had even started. You and Yeonjun were only familiar with each other because he was childhood friends with your fellow house member, Changbin. But after an encounter with the pair at Hogsmeade, Yeonjun started becoming quite adamant about making his presence known to you. And regardless of his motives and advances, you’ve, since then, been choosing not to indulge in his actions.

If you were given a knut every time someone asked you why you never gave him a chance, you’d be rich. Hell, you’d be bathing in galleons if you did, because this was Choi Yeonjun we were talking about. The one and only Choi Yeonjun who could practically steal hearts without the use of some silly charm pulled straight out of a textbook. He was reasonably one of the most attractive guys in the entirety of Hogwarts and his personality was one to adore, so you weren’t surprised with the persistent interrogation of those interested in him.

Though every question was worded differently, each one becoming more and more creative than the last, you hit them with the same, lazy explanation that you knew never left them satisfied.

“I just don’t see him in that way.” 

Yeonjun stands by your side, hands comfortably nestled in gloves, which completely disregards Professor Longbottom's instructions that the gloves were not necessary for today's class. He looked ridiculous being the only one wearing the heavy-duty gloves. You hold back a laugh as your gaze follows his pointing finger, which leads you to a cluster of asphodels.

You look up at him, “One is an accessory to a deadly sleeping potion.” You’re cleaning up your area, making sure dirt is only where it was supposed to be. 

“Y/N, c’mon~” Yeonjun whines, “Just play along.”

“Okay,” you huff, “What is it?” 

Yeonjun stands quietly for a short moment, lips pressed together, “Now you made me forget what I was going to say, but it was something about you being pretty.” Yeonjun turns to put some pots away, leaving you unamused.

Although Yeonjun continues to make such advances, you admit that his playful personality was endearing. Just a few months ago, you regarded Yeonjun as nothing more than an annoyance, constantly looming around even when unwelcome, sort of like a wedgie. However, as time passed, you couldn't deny the odd bond that had formed between the two of you. 

Just recently, you had reluctantly admitted to yourself that he’s grown on you to the point where you realize that the day would feel incomplete without his babbling. On a good day, you might even consider him your friend.

When Yeonjun returns, he flashes you a smile, “Do you have any plans for the weekend? Maybe I can take you to Hogsmeade.” He bends down slightly and reaches out, “You have a bit of dirt on your nose.” You feel his finger graze your nose for a quick second before it’s back at his side. 

“I’m afraid I already do,” you hummed. Since the period has ended, you grab your belongings and take your leave. With no surprise, Yeonjun is trailing closely behind you. 

Yeonjun’s lips were moulded into some sort of pout, brows furrowed, “Maybe the week after?” 

“I have plans that week, too,” you say promptly, though you weren’t even entirely sure if you did, “Sorry, Yeonjun.” 

Yeonjun narrows his eyes at you but you don’t catch him doing so. Instead, you’re dead set on finding your best friend Yena by the courtyard. Before Yeonjun could let out a sigh, he takes a big step forward and spins so that he’s facing you. Yeonjun executes this with ease. He’s quick on his feet and the next thing you know you’re walking into his chest. 

“Don’t apologize.” Yeonjun grabs your wrist and swiftly pulls you to the edge of the hallway so you both aren't blocking the stream of students, “There’s always another week…” He pushes his lips towards one side of his face, eyes looking to the side. He was deep in thought, “Maybe you can come to the final game of the season? I know your house isn’t playing but it would be nice to have the support… I’ll even let you wear one of my extra uniforms… maybe some facepaint?” Yeonjun’s eyes light up at the thought. 

“Yeonjun,” you say sternly. 

“As a friend?” Yeonjun’s head is tilted to the side, brows knitting as he brings his lips into a pout, “Please?” His eyes pour into yours, making it hard for you to avoid his gaze. He’s waiting intently on a reply. 

“I’ll… think about it,” You stall. 

Yeonjun smiles, satisfied with your answer. Before he speaks up once again, he hears his name being called from across the hall. It was Wooyoung. 

“I’ll see you later, beautiful~” 

You groan and call out before you’re out of ear’s reach, “What did I tell you about pet names, Choi Yeonjun!” 

Yeonjun turns to acknowledge you, but instead of saying anything to excuse himself, he sends you a wink before reaching his friend. 

As expected.

You huff, shaking your head before you finally turn to the courtyard, where you immediately see Yena kicking dirt underneath one of the smaller trees. She pulls up her robe slightly, engrossed in watching the dirt particles defy gravity and form swirling clouds.

You say nothing as you approach her, laughing underneath your breath. 

“You took so long I started growing white hair,” Yena jokes. She drops her robe and stands up a bit straighter, “Where to?” 

When Yena finally catches a glimpse of your face, her brows furrow, “What’s wrong?” She leans forward to analyze your expression, eyes running back and forth across your face. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say, “Let’s start heading for the hall.” 

Yena clicks her tongue against her teeth and grabs your wrist, “I’m not stupid, you know. I can easily tell that something’s up. So, what’s up?”

“The sky,” you say wittingly. Yena gives you her stern, rather motherly, look, causing you to break immediately, “Yeonjun asked me to ‘hang out’ again.” 

Her eyes widen, brightening, as a smile appears on her face. 

The thing about Yena is that, despite understanding that you genuinely do not have feelings for Yeonjun, she still clung onto that ship for dear life. It was quite amusing watching her squeal over the smallest interactions between you both. You could say she was more delusional than Yeonjun was.

“Please tell me you said yes!”

“Well… I didn’t say no?” You look over at her, “I just told him I would think about it.”

“Progression!” She exclaims, “Character development!”

“Oh, shut your mouth,” you groan. You look around to make sure no one associated with Yeonjun was around, “I don’t even think he’s being serious.”

You and Yena are nearing the great hall and the smell of food is drifting out the big wooden doors and up your noses. You both are walking rather slowly, moving to the edge of the corridors to keep out of the other students’ ways, “Why would you think that? From how long he’s been at it, he seems rather serious about this.”

“Yen…” you sigh, “Have you seen the way he interacts with other people, better yet, girls? I don’t want to give him a chance because it already seems like he’s just doing this for fun. I don’t wanna be… sought after for entertainment.”

Yena throws an arm around your shoulders, “If you think that, then tell him you can’t go. Simple.”

“The Choi Yena telling me not to hang out with Yeonjun?” You scoff, “Please.” 

“I’m actually giving you helpful, wise advice and this is what I get?” Yena huffs, “Fine. What I really wanted to say is that you should give him a chance. Who knows, he can actually be serious about you and you might end up liking him back.” 

You shake your head, "Not until I know he has genuine feelings for me. Besides, I would have given it a shot if I had as little as a single cell in me that was interested in him. But, as you already know, I don’t.”

Yena eyes you down as if it were going to knock the honest truth out of you. But it doesn’t, because you were telling the truth. You have no feelings for Choi Yeonjun. 

“Now let’s go eat,” you grumble, “Because you say the most unpleasant things when you’re hungry.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

When Yeonjun reaches Wooyoung, he’s greeted with a big fat thwack to the back of the head. 

“Ow!” Yeonjun jumps, rubbing the area that the other had smacked, “What in Merlin’s name was that for?” The two begin making their way down the corridor, keeping a look out for Changbin who they should be crossing paths with sometime soon.

“For being a lovesick fool,” Wooyoung shoots, “Get yourself together!” He slaps Yeonjun’s back, “Why are you wasting time over someone who clearly doesn’t like you back when you can literally be with anyone else you want?”

Though Yeonjun knows that Wooyoung means well, he can't help but feel a twinge of offense at his friend's statement. He could go on about the reasons why he’s still trying, but he knows for certain that Wooyoung could not care less. 

Frankly, when Yeonjun sets a goal for himself, there is no doubt he’ll be working towards that goal with no uncertainties. And this trait easily applies to this situation. 

Yeonjun really likes you. 

Sure, he doesn’t know the tiniest, intricate details about you, but based on what he’s heard through Changbin and things he’s learned while talking to you in class, he has this rather strong urge to get to know you better. 

And he’s serious about this.

At a loss for words, Yeonjun blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “She’s different.”

Wooyoung blinks back at his friend, “You better not be serious.”

“I’m just summing things up, Wooyoungie,” Yeonjun flicks Wooyoung’s shoulder, “I don’t take you as a guy who likes hearing things about feelings.”

“True that,” Changbin butts in. He slides in from a nearby classroom, briefly greeting the other two wizards.

Wooyoung glares at Changbin, “Do you even know what we were talking about?” 

“Yes,” Changbin shrugs, “Y/N. Yeonjun. Who else?”

Wooyoung hums, “And you support Yeonjun making a fool out of himself?” 

Before Yeonjun can shoot a remark at Wooyoung, Changbin quickly interjects, “Well, no, but I just want to see where it goes. Plus, Y/N didn’t explicitly say she didn’t like Yeonjun.”

“Wait, really?” No one notices but Yeonjun’s eyes light up at the information.

Changbin nods, “I mean to me at least. And you’d think she would tell me because you and I are friends. She just says that she has her own reasons or something.”

Yeonjun smiles to himself. That’s all he needed to know.

II. DOUBTS AND DUNDERHEADS

Yena’s reading the ingredients of a newly learned potion as you scan over the list yourself. 

“You know, I don’t get why we’re even making this potion,” Yena grumbles. As you prepare the cauldron, Yena leaves the table to grab the ingredients, plopping them down carefully in an organized manner, “It’s much more dangerous than Amortentia, don’t you think?” 

“I can see why you think that,” you chuckle under your breath. You eye the ingredients that Yena has set down, using your finger to track each one of them, “You forgot the moondew.” But seeing that your friend had already settled in her chair, you took it upon yourself to grab the plant at the bench at the back of the room. 

“Moondew… moondew…” you mumble. You look around for the plant, shuffling back and forth in hopes of it catching your eye, “Where are you?” 

Before you know it, the herb is being dangled right in your line of sight, causing your eyes to cross for a brief second, “Here you go~” Your eyes flicker up and you immediately spot the green lining of the sleeve.

You reach up to take it from him before turning around, “Thanks.” Yeonjun was standing rather close to you, though it wasn’t a creepy proximity. He’s just… tall. So to him you could guess that the distance between you both wasn’t as close as it was for you. 

“Anything for you,” he hums and sends a smile and a wink your way.

You groan and shoot him a look, walking right past him, “Choi Yeonjun, is this your way of asking for me to give you this potion?”

He feigns hurt, “No. And even if it was, I know you wouldn’t do it.” Yeonjun follows you to your bench and you see that Yena’s placing the ingredients in order of which to drop in first. She smirks at his presence. 

“And how would you know I wouldn’t?” 

“I don’t know actually,” he shrugs, jutting his lip out in a pout. Yeonjun takes a step back to his bench, which was conveniently the one next to yours and Yena’s, before he continues, “I just feel like you wouldn���t.”

You furrow your brows right as Yena adds wormwood infusion into the cauldron. Your nose crinkles, “If I were you, I wouldn’t trust your gut.” 

Yeonjun mindlessly takes the same step, gesturing for Wooyoung to go ahead with the next step, “I have a good intuition!” Yeonjun sounds like he’s genuinely trying to convince you of his secret powers. 

“Well, okay, what number am I thinking of?” You add the asphodel into the cauldron before turning to look at Yeonjun. From the way his eyes were looking off to the ceiling, lips resting into a pout, you can tell he’s thinking.

“Eight.”

“Wrong, it was two.”

“Hey, you could have easily changed the answer!” Yeonjun exclaims, giving you the accusatory finger, “Cheater.”

“I thought your intuition was good,” you say, “Doesn't your intuition say something about if I really did cheat or not?” You make sure Yena’s stirring the mixture the way the textbook had instructed. She even went ahead to plop the sloth’s brain into the pot. 

Then your professor speaks up, “Remember, students, that the hardest part of this potion is the stirring, please please pay attention to the stirring patterns.”

The entirety of your attention is brought back to your cauldron, you and Yena taking turns adding the needed components of the potion before preparing yourselves for the stirring. Meanwhile, Wooyoung and Yeonjun have already started stirring the mixture. 

“Counter… counter… clockwise…” Wooyoung says slowly, making sure that Yeonjun’s stirring in the same direction as he instructed. When Wooyoung realizes that he’s on the other side of the table, he gasps, “Wait, that’s my counter, counter, clockwise!” 

Yeonjun’s eyes widen before stirring the mixture the other way as if it would cancel out the stirs that he’s already completed. Then it dawned on him, “You dunce! It’s the same for you and me—”

And right as Yeonjun finishes his sentence, the mixed elements burst onto Yeonjun, leaving him covered in an odd-coloured substance. 

Screams of surprise echo through the room before the same individuals burst into laughter, seeing that Yeonjun was now drenched and filthy. Yena was laughing out loud, fingers gripping the edge of the table to keep herself stable. You were trying your best not to laugh out loud, pressing your lips together to hide the growing smile on your face.

When the situation finally clicks, Yeonjun knocks himself out of his state of shock, using his own robe to wipe the substance off of his face. It was sticky, so there was a good amount of resistance keeping him from successfully cleaning himself up. 

Now you feel bad. 

You watch Yeonjun for a few moments to see if he truly needed help. But when you realized that he was practically hopeless on his own, you sighed and stood up, grabbing the boy by the wrist, “Professor, may we be excused? We will be back before class ends.” 

He nods, allowing you both to leave. And at that, you’re dragging the long-limbed Slytherin out the door of the classroom. You take him down the stone corridor and towards the girls’ washroom. Your steps echo against the walls of the hallway as you fast-walk towards the end of the hall. Once you reach it, you sit Yeonjun down on a nearby window ledge, “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

Yeonjun nods, making himself comfortable. He watches you leave and disappear into the bathroom for a good thirty seconds before you return with one hand full of wet paper towels and the other with dry ones. 

You start wiping off the gunk from the boy’s face, starting at his forehead and working your way down his face. You're half an arm’s length away from the boy, still trying to keep distance. You’re surprised at how easily the potion slides off his face with the help of water. 

“I thought you were good at potions,” you grumble, “Next time you need to be careful… you’re lucky that the potion doesn’t get absorbed into skin because this situation could have been worse…” You continue scolding him under your breath, but it was so quiet that even the closeness between you doesn’t allow Yeonjun to hear what you’re saying. 

You don’t notice the way Yeonjun is looking at you. His eyes are crossing just to catch a proper glimpse of your focused state, flickering between your lashes to your cheeks, and your lips… He mentally shakes his head to rid of all thoughts clouding his head, squeezing his eyes.

“You know, I don’t need help to clean myself up,” Yeonjun says, but his expression completely contradicts his words as he grins at your actions. 

You freeze and take a step back to reassess the situation, “You’re right.” You hold the paper towels out to him, “Here.”

“Wait, but I do need help.”

You sigh and start wiping the remaining stuff off of his face, “You’re a dunderhead, you know that right?” You put pressure onto his cheek bone for a moment and plaster a playful smile on your mouth.

Yeonjun snickers, “Yeah, a dunderhead for you.”

Your smile drops from your lips and you frown, “Oh, shut up.” His face was basically clean from the potion. All that’s left was the dried liquid in his hair and some lingering on his robe. 

“It’s true,” Yeonjun sighs. He wonders why you’re so against him and his advances. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong to you. You haven’t even given him a chance.

You roll your eyes and attempt to scrape off the dried up potion that was clinging on to his hair, “I’m guessing you’re a dunderhead for Chaewon and her friends too.” There’s a slight tone of passive aggressiveness in your voice but you don’t notice. 

“What do you mean?” Yeonjun’s ears perk up, genuinely confused.

You let the question sit, finding the appropriate way to explain to Yeonjun what you meant. It was a difficult thing to put simply and you and Yeonjun were currently bound by time. 

“Yeonjun I…” your eyes search Yeonjun’s as if he could physically hand you the help you needed, “I don’t believe you actually like me.” You almost cringe because it sounded as though you were accusing him of lying, but this was truly how you felt. 

Yeonjun’s eyes widened, “W-what? Why do you think th—”

“You flirt with me—a lot—but you flirt with other people too,” you explain, “One second you’re calling me pretty and treating me nice and everything that, I admit, someone who likes that person would do… but the next you’re doing practically the same things for another person… How am I supposed to believe that you like me?” 

Not that it mattered—you didn’t even have feelings for the boy—but it was good that he knew for someone he actually was interested in. 

Yeonjun is taken aback by the confession. Is this how you felt the whole time? Is this why you haven’t actually given him the chance to take you out? “How can I prove to you that I’m serious?”

“You’re an expert at flirting, aren’t you?” you retort, “I’m pretty sure you can figure that out yourself.”

III. A SLYTHERIN’S EFFORT

After confronting the Slytherin about your feelings towards him and his actions, there was a period of complete silence over the following days. It was like radio silence—as if something had gone wrong with the antenna and you were forced to scramble to fix it. Encounters with him in the halls or in class were kept minimal by the boy, only going as far as saying a hi and goodbye before going on his merry way. 

Judging from his actions, you took it as a confirmation that Yeonjun really didn’t have feelings for you. This realization evoked mixed emotions within you. Sure, you’re glad that you got him off your back, having the peace and quiet in herbology that you used to have. But you’d be lying if you said that you wished that Yeonjun would still speak every once in a while to fill that silence. 

It was odd if you think about it. Why did Yeonjun even ask how he could prove his feelings for you if those feelings were non-existent? Was that just part of the ‘fun’? An attempt to get your hopes up before stopping altogether?

Ouch, you think, shaking your head to get rid of these thoughts from your head. If Yeonjun didn’t actually like you, he could’ve just said so. But hey, you should be ecstatic that he's finally done with this whole act, right? 

At least he’s making it easy on you.

That is until Yeonjun came unannounced to the Gryffindor table one morning. He, surprisingly, did not don the smirk he often wore on his lips. Instead, his lips were curved into a gentle smile, his eyes mirroring the same warmth. 

“Morning, Lions,” he greets.

“Changbin’s still at the dorms,” you mumble, dipping your head to sip on your soup. 

Yeonjun shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here for you.” He held out a small, white plastic bag toward you. It was full, but you weren’t quite sure with what. 

You guess that Yeonjun read the confusion on your face, quickly following up his disorderly actions with, “My mom usually sends snacks and I asked her to send these for you.” You hear Yena almost choke on her food, but she shuts herself up by downing water.

Odd. “Oh… thank you?” You’re not even sure how to act, reaching out for the bag before sticking your nose into it to catch a glimpse of the aforementioned snacks. And funny enough, this is what catches you off-guard.

They were your favourite snacks—ones you couldn’t get here or at Hogsmeade.

“How did you know I liked these?” Yeonjun warms up at the way your eyes light up. You look up at him and thank him again. 

Yeonjun shrugs, “You might have mentioned them a few times during herbology. Anyways, I gotta go back to the table. But I hope you enjoy those!” 

“I will,” you say mostly to yourself. You set the bag on your lap and stare at it, puzzled. 

“Ooo—”

You clamp your mouth over Yena’s mouth and side-eye her, “Shut your mouth right now or else I’m lodging a breadstick down your throat.”

Yena’s eyes widen but she grabs your hand and peels it off her face. She whispers, “I thought you said Yeonjun didn’t like you.” You nod, “I did but… No. I don’t think this means anything.” 

“Are you crazy?” Yena’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of her head, “He remembers what you’ve told him and he’s asked his own mother to send you these!”

You don’t look at Yena because she’s right. The process into actually pulling this off is… sweet. And thoughtful. 

With a dismissive shake of your head, your gaze falls on the closest person, who happens to be Soobin, “Binnie, can you please pass the breadsticks?”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Why do you like herbology?”

The question causes you to freeze, gloved-fingers stuck in the dirt when you try to process Yeonjun’s question of the day. When you look over at him, you realize he wasn’t even looking back at you. Instead, he was fiddling with the herbology textbook sitting on the table, flipping back and forth between the pages of today’s lesson.

You let out a sputtered "Huh?" as your head tilts to the side in confusion. The question seemed to have come out of nowhere, leaving you uncertain whether it was asked out of genuine curiosity or sheer boredom. 

“I never really asked you why you liked the class so much,” Yeonjun takes a quick glance at you through the corner of his eye, “I mean well. I genuinely want to know.” 

You wanted to continue questioning what was going on. First the snacks and now this? 

Was Yeonjun broken?

Your mouth had opened just a bit in preparation to interrogate the boy, but since he had made it clear that he was being serious, you shut your mouth before mustering up an answer. 

“There’s just something… interesting in the fact that all the plants we deal with can be used to create things that can either benefit or create drawbacks to a person’s life. Others have such useless purposes, too, but I still find it captivating that plants can do things you could hardly expect… Like mandrakes. They’re god-awfully annoying, but they can help heal curses and stuff.

“Then there’s dittany… I think it’s easily one of my favourites. They can help heal wounds easily so they come in handy in a lot of situations… like my grandma’s created her own ointment recipe with dittany and it’s done wonders in my family. I guess the main reason I like herbology is the idea that we can somehow use these things to help people. That’s what I prefer, at least.”

When you finished speaking, you realized that you have never said that out loud to anyone before. It was something that never came up in conversation—a topic you knew no one cared about—yet here you are blabbing on to Choi Yeonjun about your love for the subject.

“Wow, when you put it that way, herbology does sound cool.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him, “You’re saying that as if you’re not in an advanced class right now.”

The softest grin appears on Yeonjun’s face as he pushes his textbook away from him, “I know. But herbology isn't the main reason I’m here.”

“Then, what are you doing here?”

“For you.” 

The corners of your lips lift at the brief appearance of the playful Yeonjun you were familiar with. Of course, you think. 

Before you could even question further, Professor Longbottom launched into another rant about the day's lesson, drawing your attention away from the strange, indescribable sensation that was slowly taking over your heart.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were on your way back to the hall for dinner having taken a stroll around the castle grounds after a nap. With workload becoming heavier and days growing shorter due to the time of year, you were hoping to clear your mind while sightseeing.

You couldn’t say it worked, though. 

All your mind could do was wander back to the topic of the upcoming defense of the dark arts exam, the feeling of anxiety continues to creep up your neck despite the efforts to get rid of them. The subject was not one of your strengths, as your strong distaste for dueling led to a lack of effort in the class.

Now that a practical assessment was coming up, you weren’t sure how you were going to do… and frankly you didn’t like doing horribly in your classes. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

You gasp quietly at the sudden presence of Yeonjun, who’s wearing an odd combination of his quidditch uniform and training attire. In his hand he’s holding his broomstick. By the looks of it, he just came from quidditch practice.

"I don't think it matters that much," you let out a lackluster, breathy chuckle and continue walking towards the castle. Yeonjun adjusts his pace to match yours, even though his long limbs seem eager to move faster.

“That look on your face says otherwise,” he shrugs, “But, do not worry, you still look as pretty as always.”

You stop in your tracks and glare at the boy, who halts two steps too late.

“What?” Yeonjun questions, “It’s true.” He recognizes a specific glint in your eyes and Yeonjun realizes that this was not the time to be flirting, “In all seriousness, though, what’s wrong?”

Yeonjun takes you by surprise once again and you almost stumble in your steps from his efforts. It was nice to see that Yeonjun did have this side of him. While you've grown fond of his playful personality, it's refreshing to witness him in a different light. 

You think about what you want to say to Yeonjun. “I think it’ll help more if you just tell me about your day,” you tell him. You needed distraction from the near-overbearing stress that you’re experiencing. In hindsight, you realized that taking a stroll alone may have been a mistake. Being left alone with your thoughts was never a favourable situation for you or for anyone.

Yeonjun immediately understands the situation, and before you know it, no questions asked, he begins to tell you all about his quidditch practice.

Yeonjun’s position was the team’s beater, so he spent the entire practice with his fellow house member, Jongho, who was also a beater, hitting bludgers back and forth to get used to what strength they needed to exert to send it going any way they wanted. 

“We were just hitting it back and forth,” he says, “Like we always do. But this time, we decided to use our non-dominant hands to hit them.” Yeonjun swings his left arm as he continues, “And, you see, Jongho’s left handed so we made this a competition between just the two of us to see who was better with their other arm.

“So we went back and forth. It was hard at first, but he and I started getting… cocky about how I was doing better. It was actually terrifying because, you know, the rest of the team was just there… they could easily have been hit and all. But since, we’re the best beaters in this entire school—” Yeonjun sends a prideful smile your way and you can’t help but scoff, “—we didn’t let that happen–”

“Until?” you butt in.

Yeonjun’s eyes widened, “I can’t believe you think there’s an ‘until.’ 

“Am I wrong?” 

Then, Yeonjun's eyes narrow and he tightens his lips into a thin line. "You're lucky you're cute..." he remarks, reaching out to poke your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him do it. "Anyways," he continues, "That was until we remembered that we also have a coach... guess who's at the infirmary with a bruise as big as a crab apple?"

You gasp, “I thought you guys were Hogwarts’ best beaters?”

Yeonjun exclaims, “We are!”

“Then why is your coach in the infirmary?” 

“Accidents happen!” Yeonjun defends himself, “He’s alright, though. The nurse says he’s going to be back in shape by tomorrow.” 

The conversation turned out to be much more enjoyable than you had anticipated, and before you knew it, you were already approaching the doors of the hall. You could see other students trickling in, and your eyes instantly caught sight of Yena through the doors.

“That’s good to hear,” you stifle a laugh, “Anyways, I gotta go, I’m starving.” 

As you’re turning to leave, you’re stopped by Yeonjun, who has reached out to grab your wrist, “I hope your problems will be resolved soon.”

A warm feeling tickles your chest and you let a genuine smile appear on your lips, “Thanks, Yeonjun.”

With that, you give him a small wave and head inside the hall to join Yena and the other students for dinner, feeling more at ease than before.

IV. THE GLOVES

If given the chance to describe your best friend in one word, you’d say spontaneous. Since the day you met her, she has the habit of making a decision in one moment and then completely changing course in the next. It was a trait of her’s that you found rather impressive, because you could never live your life like that. But despite being impressed, it's still hard to deny that it doesn’t occasionally frustrate you.

Last night, Yena was determined to study for the upcoming dark arts exam over the weekend—you even agreed to study with her (which wasn’t the best option on your end)—but upon waking up at right at noon, she’s decided to give up on this goal and, instead, take an impromptu trip to Hogsmeade. What’s worse was that she’s dragging you along with her, practically giving you no choice but to tag along. 

Although you had no plans for the weekend but to begin studying, you were planning on staying in the dorms because temperatures were dropping to an uncomfortable low. You were in no mood to visit Hogsmeade since it did take a great deal of walking to get around. But since Yena would not shut up until you agreed to come, you were now digging through your trunk, trying to find the pair of gloves you swear you packed. 

“Y/N, make haste!” Yena exclaims from downstairs, “Time is ticking!”

“If you keep speaking like we’re in the nineteenth century, I will not make haste,” you yell back. There’s a sudden urge to bang your head against your trunk. Your gloves were nowhere to be seen and now you have to accept the fact that Jack’s going to be nipping your fingertips during the entire trip. 

Slamming the trunk shut, you let out a deep huff and pull your coat sleeves down over your hands. 

This will have to do.

Yena makes a beeline for Honeydukes the second you make it onto Hogsmeade grounds. She’s hauling you along with her, and you do nothing to protest.

“My supply of jelly slugs are dwindling,” she mutters, throwing the door open before stepping foot inside. The warmth is comforting, especially since the two of you had been walking in the cold for the past 20 minutes, “Changbin took two packs because apparently I owed him.”

You look at her, “Why did you even give them if you weren’t even sure?” Yena’s arms are filled with jelly slug packages, cradling them as if she gave birth to them. 

She shrugs, “I was actually convinced I owed him until I thought about it.” She secures the sweets and looks over at you, “Don’t you want anything?” 

You scan the selection of candies and chocolates surrounding the both of you, “I suppose I can use some gum for studying.”

“Ooh, you’re right! Grab me a pack too, please!” She’s jutting her chin to gesture towards the pack of gum laid out on a nearby shelf, thanking you when you grab a pack for you both, “I’ll pay for it since I forced you to come with me.” 

You don’t protest again, “Fine by me.” 

Plopping all the sweets down onto the counter, you immediately see the look of horror on the employee’s face. You can read her mind—probably thinking that Yena was crazy. “I-is that all, sweetheart?” Yena nods and slides her a note before even waiting for the total. 

On your way out, she’s already ripped a pack open, snacking on the slugs, “Want one?” 

Before you can even reply, a male voice butts in, “Don’t mind if I do!” To accompany it, a hand slides in from your left and straight into Yena’s new bag of jelly slugs. This slightly startles the both of you, stumbling away from the new presence.

Yena groans, “Seo Changbin, you literally have the ones I gave you back at the dorms!” Yena tucks the candy into her sleeve and gives Changbin a crossed look—one that could kill. 

“Wait, I want one!” Wooyoung appears from behind Changbin, who’s closely followed by Yeonjun. Both boys have their chins tucked into their jackets, hands stuffed deep in their pockets, “May I please have one?”

Yeonjun waves at you, and though you couldn’t clearly see his mouth, you can tell he was smiling because it reaches his eyes. You wave back and you couldn’t help but mirror his expression.

Yena blinks for a quick moment, but then moves slowly to give the Slytherin a single slug, “Only cause you asked nicely… unlike someone over here.” She shoots Changbin another deadly glare before moving on, “What are you guys doing here?”

Wooyoung uses his thumb to point toward the castle, “We were just about to head back. You guys?”

Yena shrugs, “I’m about ninety-percent sure we were going to head back, too. Unless you have somewhere to go, Y/N?” Your best friend’s looking at you, waiting for a reply. 

“Oh, uh…” you shake your head, “No.”

Yeonjun beams, “That’s great! We can all walk back together?” 

You don’t notice the way Yena smirks before she agrees on behalf of the both of you, “Sure, why not?”

And before you know it, you find yourself walking alongside Yena and the boys, witnessing Changbin and Wooyoung playfully shoving each other off the path. Yeonjun takes long strides beside them, unsurprisingly condoning the play-fighting. Yena’s busy picking out specific jelly slugs from her bag, occasionally looking up to make sure she doesn’t stumble over a rock or tree root. 

“If you guys hit me, you’re getting hit back,” she mutters, attention still directed towards her sweets. 

Meanwhile, you’re freezing your arse off at the rear of the group. You feel the chill in the air seeping into your bones and you’re desperately blowing warm air into your hands in hopes that you won’t get frostbite. 

As the castle grows closer with each step, you feel the urge to break away from the group and sprint ahead, painfully longing for the warmth of the castle. Your hands are numb, and at this point, you’re afraid that you’re never going to get sensation back, even if you go as far as sticking your limbs into fire. 

The thought makes you panic. Sure it was a bit unrealistic, but still your mind rushes past a bajillion different thoughts that involve things you did with your hands. Herbology, crocheting, playing sports… what if you can’t do those anymo—

“Here.”

You blink to suck yourself back to reality, shaking your head to grasp how Yeonjun was now directly in front of you. His arm is extended, handing you something that you don’t quite recognize at first. After taking a closer look, you realize that he’s handing you over his own pair of gloves. 

“Huh?”

“Gloves.” 

“I know what they are,” you say softly, “But for what?”

“You’ve been breathing into your hands since we left Hogsmeade,” Yeonjun points out, “So put these on. I can take them back when we get to the castle.” He nudges the mittens towards you, urging you to take them. “Take them.”

You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at the gesture. “I’m okay. Besides, you need them, too.” 

You attempt to walk around the boy but he stops you, "I don't want to see you freeze. It's either these gloves or... I hold your hands to warm them up." His voice trails off with a playful hint, and you can't help but feel your heart flutter at the thought. But as quick as the feeling came, you knock some sense back into your head before you hastily pluck the mits out of his hands. 

“Good,” he grins, patting your head through your toque. As you slide your hands into the gloves, you realize they're a bit too big for you, causing them to slip off easily. You ball your hands into fists and stick them into your pockets. Then Yeonjun asks, “Hey, have you thought about the game?” 

To be honest, the invitation had almost slipped your mind amidst the recent events. However, now you find yourself more open to the idea. But before you could confirm that you were willing to go, the yelling of both Wooyoung and Changbin interrupted your conversation.

Yeonjun apologizes and groans, making a beeline to the other two to calm them down. 

“I swear it wasn’t this far of a walk to Hogsmeade.” Your best friend stuffs her hands into her pockets and sinks her head behind the collar of her jacket. 

“No, I’m not carrying you to the castle,” Changbin looks like he turned his head 180 degrees to look back at Yena, but it was just his coat giving you the illusion.

“Who in bloody hell said I wanted to be carried by you,” Yena gags. She bends down to pick up the nearest pebble before chucking it at Changbin’s leg. The latter flinches, and again, his head spins to look at you both. He sends Yena a dirty look before maturely continuing on (mainly because Yeonjun already gave him a warning).

The five of you trek back to the school grounds in near silence, the exhaustion evident in your steps as the chilly weather envelopes the area. You wonder if Yena actually regrets going to Hogsmeade on such a gloomy day, but when you look over to check how she’s doing, she’s munching on the jelly slugs with a content expression. 

As the Slytherins break off, Wooyoung bids a simple "goodbye," forcefully dragging Yeonjun along with him. He knows damn well that Yeonjun’s going to spend an extra 10 minutes talking to you when all he wants is to get back to the dorms to take a nap. 

Wooyoung’s so quick to leave that the two disappear in the blink of an eye and you’re not given the chance to return Yeonjun’s mittens. Though, it was also on you for not remembering to give it back. 

Yena notices how you’ve slipped the mittens off and are now staring at the pair as if they hold some sort of enchantment. “And you still haven’t fallen for him yet?” Yena smirks, eyeing the item of clothing in your hand. 

“Gross, why would I?” Your face scrunches and you hold the gloves out to Changbin using your index and your thumb, “Take them. Give them back to him.”

“Please,” Yena scoffs, “Don’t lie, I know you’re all warm and fuzzy for Yeonjun.” Yena playfully pushes Changbin's arms away, preventing you from giving him the mittens, “And don’t give those to the poor boy. Return them yourself.” 

"Poor boy?" Changbin questions, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

You groan, “I’m not all ‘warm and fuzzy’ for Yeonjun.” You look down at the gloves in your hands, “Obviously, I like him better than before but my feelings for him aren’t romantic.” 

“Poor boy?” Changbin repeats, but seeing that you and Yena were absorbed in your own conversation, he gives up.

The three of you finally reach the portrait of the Fat Lady. Yena rolls her eyes, “Mmmhmm… it’s just a matter of time before you actually start liking him like that.” She mutters the password and soon, you’re making your way into the common room. It was miraculously empty. 

“What do you even mean by that?” 

Yena throws her head into her hand and palms her face, “My sweet, sweet Y/N… Think about it. Not too long ago, you were constantly complaining about Yeonjun and how irritating he was. Now you’ve just confessed that you like him better than before. Guess what the next stage is?”

“Best friends,” you answer, attempting to seem nonchalant about the subject. 

“You guys talk more than he and I do,” Changbin points out, snickering, “And we’re best friends.” Yena nods eagerly, gesturing to the boy as if he’s made a life-changing statement.

You shrug, “That doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Yena speculates, “Can I point out that you were in a bad mood the four days Yeonjun barely spoke to you?” 

“I was in a bad mood because of the potions exam,” you justify, “And I have you as a partner.” 

“Okay, fair, but you have to admit it wasn’t all just because of that,” Yena pushes. 

“I won’t because it was all because of that,” you facepalm, “You’re just saying anything at this point.” “You can’t tell me you didn’t feel at least something after all those things that’s happened this week,” Yena remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms in a challenging manner. 

“Things?” Changbin’s eyes grow wide, “What things?”

“They mean nothing,” you repeat, “Just… friendly random acts of kindness, which I do appreciate. Nothing wrong with it.”

“There’s also nothing wrong with admitting that you like him at least a smidge,” Yena frowns, “I know you’re a softie at heart, and I know there’s no way that you didn’t feel all warm and fuzzy at least once.”

As Yena continues to probe about your feelings for Yeonjun, your stubborn nature kicks in, and you find yourself reluctant to admit what she’s assuming. Sure, your heart might have skipped a beat or two because of Yeonjun, but it was just a momentary flutter, a reaction that doesn't hold any significant meaning.

Right?

Besides, you weren't ready to admit something to others that you hadn't fully come to terms with yourself. 

So you shake your head and deny, “Nope. Not once.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

If Yena saw how much of a fuss you were making over something as simple as returning Yeonjun's gloves, she would tease you relentlessly. So you figured that this would be a solo quest, one that required not being caught by Yena. 

You stand at the doors of the hall, gloves clutched in your hands as you try to search for the Slytherin. The hall was busier than you thought, but it wasn’t intimidating. You’re not even sure why you’re worried about this. You were simply handing the gloves back and telling him that you were going to the game as friends. It really didn’t mean anything.

A sense of relief washes over you when you spot Yeonjun fooling around with Wooyoung and Changbin in a relatively empty area. This means that you can get this over with. Hand them over, tell him, then you’re done. Simple. 

Working up the courage to do it, you slowly make your way down the long room, gripping the gloves tightly with one hand. When you’re near, it's Wooyoung who first catches sight of you since he happens to be facing your direction. He utters something that you couldn't quite make out, but it's accompanied by a gesture that catches the attention of Yeonjun and Changbin, prompting them to turn around.

Yeonjun lights up, which you only interpret as a smile, before he waves at you, “Y/N!” 

You don't know why you’re suddenly shy, feeling yourself shrink under the attention of Yeonjun. You grin back and give them all a small wave before you take small steps, “I forgot to return these the other day.” You hold it out to him. Your arm begins to shake at the slightest, so you steady it with your other arm.

“Did you really forget or did you want to keep them?” He teases, sending a wink before gently retrieving them. He thanks you. 

You feel your cheeks heat up and you shake your head, “I forgot to… if it weren’t for Wooyoung who dragged you away.” You give the other Slytherin a look, “And… before I leave, I didn’t get to tell you yesterday that—”

“Choi Yeonjun,” a female voice rudely interrupts your sentence. You’re slightly shoved to the side by another Slytherin who you were not familiar with (nor did you care), taking your place in front of Yeonjun. Changbin looks like he’s about to tell her off, giving you a sympathetic look. 

“Kim Hyunji,” Yeonjun greets, “What brings you here?” 

You start playing with the sleeves of your wool sweater, growing impatient despite the fact that the new presence has barely been there for a minute. The words being exchanged between Yeonjun and the girl soon turn into an unintelligible babble, leaving your mind unable to grasp their conversation. But judging by the way the girl grew gradually closer to Yeonjun, you didn’t need to know what was being said. The exchange goes on for a bit too long for your liking and you can feel your brows dropping to form a scowl.

As you recall the recent interactions with Yeonjun, you realize that amidst all of them, you forgot that Yeonjun was still the flirt that he was. Sure, it probably came naturally to him, but witnessing him flirt with another girl evokes a foreign feeling that tickles your chest. 

“I’ll see you there, then?” Yeonjun’s words are suddenly clear and you feel something tap your chest. 

“Of course I’ll be,” she replies, a smirk forming on her face as she turns to leave. 

The second she’s gone, Yeonjun turns back at you, eyes softening, “Sorry, Y/N, she tends to do that a lot… what were you saying?’

As if you’ve experienced an emotional whiplash, you freeze and lose the words that you previously practiced in your head. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. 

What was happening?

“Y/N? Are you okay?” 

You swallow nervously and, in a hushed voice, you say, "I-it can wait." Without wasting a moment, you swiftly leave the room, your hand instinctively moving to your head as you try to make sense of your confusion.

Finding the nearest bench outside of the hall, you sit down and catch your breath, unable to focus on anything else that was going on around you. 

“Y/N?” Your eyes meet Yena's, and without hesitation, she takes the empty seat next to you, her brows furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You’re chewing on your bottom lip, trying to explain exactly what you’re feeling, “What does being jealous feel like?” 

Yena hums to indicate that she’s thinking. She presses her lips into a thin line and looks around, “I think the best way to describe it is kinda like… you want to squash whoever you’re jealous of with a boot.”

You’re not sure if that was even an accurate way to describe jealousy, but the way Yena describes it is exactly how you felt with Hyunji. Sure, you’d never ever condone physical aggression, but if you had the power to pull her out of that conversation with Yeonjun like a mandrake, you would. 

“Bloody hell,” you mutter. Because why in Merlin’s name would a single cell in your body be feeling jealousy in that situation? You have no right being jealous of this girl. Not when you don’t have feelings for Yeonjun. 

Yena’s ears perk up and lean closer, “Bloody hell? What do you mean bloody hell?”

Unless… you do have feelings for Yeonjun.

Which could explain every odd thing that’s been happening to you. The way you practically dreaded the days when Yeonjun spoke to you so minimally. The way Yeonjun has made your heart skip more beats than one. The way you were feeling jealous over some girl you’ve never met before. 

Maybe you did have feelings for Yeonjun and maybe it was time that you had to accept them.

“And what does it mean if someone makes my heart race?” 

Yena’s jaw drops, finally processing what’s going on. You didn’t even need to explicitly say Yeonjun’s name to indicate that this was about him. She saw it coming. But she doesn’t want to ruin the moment. She’ll let you tell her yourself, “Depends… is it in a good or bad way?”

“I suppose…” you blink, “Both?” Confirmed, Yena holds back a smile, “It means you like that someone a lot.”

V. AND THE DITTANY

No you weren’t avoiding Yeonjun on purpose. 

You do embarrassingly admit that you’re afraid to see him after the whole ‘realizing your feelings’ ordeal, but it's as if the universe decided to give you a break today and made sure you and Yeonjun wouldn't cross paths.

By some stroke of luck, or perhaps the mischievous workings of fate, today was a day that you and Yeonjun did not share one class apart from herbology, which had miraculously been cancelled at the very last minute. It seemed almost magical that you didn't cross each other's paths at all during the entire school day. 

To be wise with your time, you took the day away from Yeonjun in an attempt to think the situation through. Because what do you do now?

Do you just drop the bomb on him like, ‘oh hey, I like you by the way!” Or should you keep it a secret for a bit to build momentum? 

Yena was quick to advise that you should confess ASAP, “And preferably at the quidditch game! Imagine how cute! You’re cheering for him and only him… and when the snakes win, you’re going to be there and—” Then you interrupted her because you weren’t completely sure if that was even the best way to go about it.

But if you think about it, Yeonjun was a simple guy. You could tell through the way he did decide to show you that his feelings were genuine—bullocks! He paid attention to all you had to say in herbology, asked his own mother to send your favourite snacks just to give them to you… he didn’t hesitate to make you feel better the day you were stressed for an exam.

Hell, even before you confronted him, Yeonjun had been showering you with the sweetest gestures that you could only now fully appreciate. 

If only you could knock some sense into your past self. 

“The library will be closing soon,” you look up and find the library’s student assistant, an apologetic smile sitting rather awkwardly on his face. With a nod, you wait for him to leave, giving yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. You begin collecting your things, the fatigue from the long day making your eyes feel strained and exhausted. Almost as if they could pop out of their sockets with the slightest blink.

As you make your way back to the Gryffindor dormitories, you hear shuffling far behind you before you suddenly hear your name being called out. You turn around to see who it was, and to your surprise, it's Yeonjun, running down the empty corridor with his arms waving frantically to get your attention.

 When he finally catches up to you, you greet him with a shy smile, “Yeonjun.”

“I haven’t seen you all day,” he says, a pout appearing on his lips, “I was looking forward to herbology because I finally got to see you, but curse Professor Longbottom for eating bad soup.” 

Your stomach flutters at his nonchalant comment and you feel shoving your head into the nearest bush, “Yeah, haha… What are you doing here?”

“I was just going on a stroll to clear my head,” he grins, “Are you heading back to your dormitory?” 

You nod.

“Well, let me walk you back then,” Yeonjun offers and you don’t protest. If you hadn’t seen Yeonjun all day, at least you had this, “Don’t want evil creatures creeping up on you.”

You give him a look, “Don’t be silly. There aren’t any evil creatures on the school grounds.” 

“I know,” Yeonjun snickers, “It’s just an excuse for me to walk you anyway. But my intuition is telling me that you would have let me regardless.” He leans forward and down to your height, pretending to search your eyes for answers, but you don’t budge. 

“Your intuition is wrong,” you say, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Never. At least, not this time,” Yeonjun shakes his head, “Anyways, I’m happy I bumped into you because I was going to ask you if you’ve decided on coming to the game.”

“That… that was what I was going to tell you the other day with the gloves but—”

“But Hyunji, I know,” Yeonjun nods, “I know it sounds like I invited her to the game but since she’s a Slytherin, she was going to go anyways and—” Yeonjun sighs and pauses to find words to explain the situation, “I want you to know that you were the only one I invited.”

The tone in Yeonjun’s voice takes you by surprise. You can tell that he still has his mind set on proving to you that he has feelings for you and no one else. You frown, “Yeonjun… I know you’re only telling me this because of what I told you that day during potions but… I want to tell you now that I believe you.” 

Yeonjun’s face lights up and questions, “You do?”

You nod bashfully, “I realized it that day on the way back from Hogsmeade.”

Yeonjun wishes he could tell how much that meant to him, a feeling of relief washing over him like soft waves, “Thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“For believing,” he grins, “It’s one step closer to making you like me.” Yeonjun winks before his eyes squeeze shut, breaking into a wide smile. His expression fills with an exaggerated appearance of triumph. 

“Hmm, we’ll see about that, Choi Yeonjun,” You laugh at the irony, “Anyways, I was saying that I will be going to the game.”

“You are—”

“For Jongho,” you tease, “The best beater of the team.” 

“You don’t even know Jongho!” Yeonjun exclaims, “How can you—”

“I’m joking,” you poke the side of his arm and roll your eyes, “I’m going for you. The only one who invited me.”

“In that case, I’ll lend you some facepaint and my extra jersey—” He stops when he sees the look you’re giving him, “Just the face paint then?”

Although a small part of you would have wanted to wear his jersey, you were still currently keeping your feelings to yourself. Rejecting the jersey before and suddenly accepting it would look a bit too suspicious, “I suppose that would be fine.”

You don’t realize that you’re at the portrait and you can’t help but feel a bit bummed that the walk was over. It was too short. You barely had the opportunity to talk with Yeonjun about anything else, “I’ll see you then?”

Yeonjun nods, a smile reaching his eyes, “Yes I will.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The day of the game, you, Yena, and Changbin found yourselves in search of ways to pass the time before it was time to head for the pitch. There was truly nothing to do, so you all opted on taking the longest route around the castle possible. 

The three of you were dressed in any green item of clothing you could find in your packed clothes, agreeing that it would have been odd if you all showed up in Gryffindor attire. If you were there to cheer for Yeonjun, you all had to at least look the part. 

Yena takes the opportunity to fill the silence, bubbling with excitement as she talks about the day's upcoming events, specifically your plan to finally confess your feelings to Yeonjun. She knows that you weren't keen on going along with her previous ideas, so she gave you the freedom to come up with your own plan. “Tell me what you’ve come up with.”

“Well,” you begin hesitantly. Truthfully, you have not found the time to think the plan through, opting to just ‘wing it’ when the time came, “I was just thinking of simply telling him?” 

“That’s the most rubbish plan I’ve heard in my years of living,” Yena blinks.

Changbin snorts, “I don’t even think that’s considered a plan.” 

You scowl and give them both a look, “I just don’t want to make too much of a fuss.”

“I know you don’t,” Yena blinks, “But there’s something missing.”

“This is going to be gross,” Changbin grumbles, completely ignoring the problem, “I don’t want to see you and Yeonjun getting all mushy-gushy around me!”

You physically jump, “You could have used any other term and you settled for ‘mushy-gushy’...”

“I’m serious!” The boy exclaims, “I support you two… getting together… but please don’t be those couples that do PDA in the halls.”

“You really think Y/N would do that? She would never…” Yena scoffs. Then she looks over at you with a slight glint of fear in her eyes, “R-right Y/N?”

You nod, “Never. And I give you both permission to knock me into my senses if I do.”

From a distance, the sound of rapid footsteps reach your ears, gradually growing louder and closer. 

“Why… in Merlin’s… beard… are you all… the way…” Wooyoung gulps as if he could catch his breath easier, “Back here?” He’s clutching items in his hands and he holds them out for any of you to take them, “Yeonjun said… oh, bloody hell.” 

You watch him catch his breath for a couple of long moments before he starts again, “Yeonjun said he forgot to give you these.” Reluctantly, you take them to get a better look. Turns out, it was just two small cans of silver and green face paint, “He was going to give you them himself but he was called in by the coach for a pre-game talk.”

“You ran to find us just for this?” you say, “You could have just met us at the game.”

Wooyoung shakes his head, “Nope, I was sent to find you.” He takes in the outfits that you three were wearing, “It looks odd seeing you all in something that isn’t black, red, or gold.” 

Something in Wooyoung’s comment causes something to click in Yena’s head, brows shooting up, “Jung Wooyoung, can you help us out?”

“Depends…” Wooyoung says carefully, “What’s in it for me?” 

“I can’t believe you made me steal one of Yeonjun’s extra uniforms,” Wooyoung groans, unamused. He’s out of breath again, having to run back to the Slytherin dormitories and to a chosen meet up spot next to the bathroom. 

“We’re not stealing, we’re borrowing,” Yena rolls her eyes, grabbing the jersey from Wooyoung, “Besides you could have said no.” Without another word, your friend grabs your wrist and pulls you into the bathroom. 

“Put it on,” Yena says, “And then we can paint your face.” 

“You seem more excited than I am,” your voice is laced with equal parts intrigue and nervousness. Finally giving in to wearing Yeonjun's jersey (and without him knowing) was something even you didn’t expect, especially since you had turned down the idea before. 

“It’s ‘cause there’s nothing to even fret about,” Yena scoffs, helping you tug the larger jersey on, “Okay, now for the facepaint.” 

Yena was wrong. Sure, you knew Yeonjun’s feelings for you were reciprocated, but there was just something about confessing your feelings that was downright terrifying. 

Positioning herself in front of you, your best friend blocks your view of the mirror, and with a mischievous grin, dips her fingers into the paint. Without any hesitation, she begins painting the right side of your face, her touch gentle and precise. You can feel her fingers tracing a swoop underneath your eye and on your cheek bones. With the same maneuver, she moves to the left side of your face, creating another swoop, but this time, just overtop your brow bone. 

“And for fun,” Yena presses dots on your left cheek and right brow bone to create a reverse image on your face, “Okay, now take a look.” She backs away from you, letting you look into the mirror. 

You couldn’t help but cringe at the silver and green paint on your face, not to mention the green jersey you were donning. You looked like you were a Slytherin, which in this case was a good thing, but it still pained your inner Gryffindor. 

“You look cute, even though you’re wearing green and silver,” Yena smiles, “Anyways, we should get going. The game starts soon and we need good seats for your boyfriend to see you~”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you groan childishly. She drags you back out the bathroom, causing you to stumble out through the doors and in line of sight of Wooyoung and Changbin. 

“He will be soon enough.”

“Traitor!” Changbin jokes, pointing to you, “Gryffindor’s got a traitor!”

“Can you shut your mouth or I’m stuffing it with the first critter I find in this castle,” you say through gritted teeth.

Changbin puts his arms up in a feigned surrender, “Can’t believe you’re doing this all for Yeonjun.”

“You look pretty Slytherin-y,” Wooyoung nods in approval, “You’re going to knock him off of his broom.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Welcome to the final game of the season!” The announcer, Soobin, delivers, “Today… Slytherin versus Hufflepuff!” Soobin’s voice is followed by whoops and whistles, livening up the stands. You’re cheering alongside everyone else, feeling the nerves begin to dissipate as your attention is directed toward the game. 

You can see the players are making rounds in the air, getting a feel of the pitch before the game begins. Your eyes try to spot Yeonjun, who, at first, was nowhere to be found. 

“Where is he?” you whisper. The players zoom by so quickly that they appear as mere blurs, their movements too swift for your eyes to track. 

Slowly, the players start taking their positions at the center, facing each other as they wait for the referee to release the snitch, the bludgers, and the quaffle. And there, right by the goals, you spot him, positioned next to who you assumed is Jongho. You feel a kick of energy take over your system and you begin shouting for the green team (mostly Yeonjun). 

As if he had a sixth sense, Yeonjun feels your gaze on him. When he manages to find you in the small sea of people his face lights up. His nose scrunches up as he playfully waves, all before he puckers his lips and sends a blown kiss your way. 

And although you’re supposed to be used to Choi Yeonjun’s flirty antics, you’re left stunned and internally screaming, unsure of how to react in that moment. You're lucky Yeonjun doesn't catch sight of all this, too busy refocusing on the game that was about to begin. 

“The game begins! The Hufflepuffs have taken possession of the quaffle!” You hear Soobin’s voice boom over the speakers. 

Although you weren't much of a regular at Quidditch games like the other wizards, you did understand the appeal. The current game was thrilling, both teams proving their worth as the score remains neck and neck. But to be embarrassingly honest, the first two periods seemed like a blur to you, as most of your attention was shamelessly focused on Yeonjun. 

“Make sure your eyes stay in your head, now,” Yena teases, leaning over to whisper, “You have all the time in the world after this.”

“Am I being that obvious,” you freeze, eyes widening. 

Yena nods, “Yeah, but only to me because I know. I don’t think anyone around here would notice you staring at him.”

Changbin butts in, “I noticed.” 

“And no one asked,” Yena redirects Changbin’s head to the game. 

Just as Yena leans in to whisper another comment, the booming voice of Soobin echoes through the speakers, announcing, "Slytherin's Choi Yeonjun is currently taking on two bludgers!"

Your gaze snaps towards the pitch, searching for Yeonjun in the sky. True to Soobin's words, you spot Yeonjun veering away from the bludgers that chase after him. The determination etched on his face is evident as he’s trying to carefully time his swings to counter the oncoming attacks. Jongho trails closely behind, swinging his bat in an effort to redirect at least one bludger off course, but his attempts fail. 

“Can bludgers even do that?” Wooyoung yells, “They can’t, right?” 

Changbin and Yena shrug while your attention is still entirely on Yeonjun. “C’mon, Yeonjun,” you mutter underneath your breath. 

Everyone around you seemed to be holding their breath, their eyes fixated on Yeonjun. It feels as if time has slowed down, with the entire crowd sharing a collective sense of anticipation. The other players were, for the time being, long forgotten, completely uncertain about what’s going to happen next. 

Was Yeonjun going to be able to out-fly the bludgers or was he going to be knocked?

As you watch Yeonjun continue to fly, you can't quite tell if the bludgers are picking up speed or if he was slowing down. But you’re sure of one thing, the gap between Yeonjun and those bludgers was closing in fast—so close that you found yourself bracing for impact.

“He’s hit!” Soobin yells through the microphone, which was closely followed by a whistle.

Your eyes widen in shock as Yeonjun, in a desperate attempt to regain balance on his broom, slips and loses control of the broom. Before anyone could even process what was happening, the broom shoots straight to the ground, taking Yeonjun with it. 

You're left speechless, leaning over the railing of the stands in disbelief, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. A group of adults rush to Yeonjun's aid, their faces etched with concern and panic. It doesn't look good from where you're standing, and a wave of worry washes over you. 

“I-I need to go down there!” you speak before you think. Your grip around the railings is so tight that your knuckles are ghost white. 

Yena shakes her head, “I know you want to be sure he’s okay, but look how much people are down there already.” She’s right, there were tens of people already surrounding the boy and it wouldn’t be a good idea adding to the chaos. 

“Bloody bludgers,” Wooyoung mutters, “Since when did they do that? I’ve never seen bludgers do that.” 

Your heart’s pumping, beating against your chest while you try to anticipate any news on Yeonjun. The stands sound like beehives, eyes trained on the situation happening down below. 

“Ladies and gentleman,” Soobin’s voice returns through the speakers, “I have been informed that Slytherin's Choi Yeonjun will be okay but will be taken to the infirmary for care. The game will start again shortly.” 

“I’m leaving,” you say flatly.

“Wait, Y/N,” Yena stops you, “I don’t think they’ll let you visit him right now, if that’s what you were thinking.” 

“I’m going back to the dorms,” you frown, “I can’t keep watching the game if I know Yeonjun’s hurt.”

“I’ll come with you, then.”

And you don’t refuse her offer, mainly because you’re still stunned by what just happened, before bidding the boys goodbye.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The following day, you made it your mission to visit Yeonjun in the infirmary. According to Wooyoung, hadn't returned to the dorms overnight, so you expect that he’s still there and resting.

“Hello, sweetheart,” the nurse behind a desk greets you, a smile reaching her tired eyes, “May I help you?” 

You glance into the infirmary and notice that only two beds are occupied. They were both indicated with privacy screens, “I’m here to visit somebody. He was brought here last night. Choi Yeonjun.”

She nods and you watch her gentle smile slowly transform into a knowing one, “He’s in the occupied bed to your right. I believe he’s still asleep, but you can wait for him to wake up if you’d like.” 

You thank her and quietly make your way to Yeonjun’s makeshift room. There's this nagging feeling that visiting him is a bit strange, like you're going out of your way for a guy you're not supposed to be crushing on. But then you remember that Yeonjun is also your friend. Friends check up on each other when they're down, right? So, here you are, paying him a visit like a good pal.

You peek around the screen and see that Yeonjun was, in fact, asleep. Your eyes catch sight of a broken left arm and some bandages that were wrapped around his other arm and his head. He was laying on his side, using his good arm to support his head. 

You couldn’t help but frown at the sight of an injured Yeonjun, sitting down at a chair already pushed up near the bed. 

“Damn, bludgers,” you mutter, scanning over his injuries one more time. They weren’t the worst injuries, but they were still injuries that needed to be treated. 

Treated. 

You gasp quietly, almost forgetting what you had brought with you. Digging into your pocket, you fish out a container of ointment that you and your grandma had managed to concoct a few weeks before the year had started. It was the ointment with the dittany. The one you remember telling Yeonjun about.

You swear by your grandma’s recipe.

Leaning back in your chair, you run your thumb over the lid of the container, deep in thought. The room is filled with an overwhelming silence, and Yena's voice echoes in your mind, urging you to confess your feelings to Yeonjun and make him feel better. However, you decide to prioritize his well-being for now, putting your confession on hold and focusing on ensuring that Yeonjun is okay.

Then you can practically hear Changbin gagging from how awfully ‘mushy-gushy’ the decision was. 

Air shoots out of your nose when you huff out a laugh.

With a sigh, you shift your focus back to the injured boy who was still sound asleep. 

At least who you thought was sound asleep.

As you turn your attention back to Yeonjun, you catch him staring right at you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. It's almost as if he had been waiting to get caught in the act.

“Yeonjun!?” You exclaim, nearly jumping out of your seat, “Why are you just sitting there and staring at me!?” The nurse shushes you, and you quickly quiet down, collecting yourself. You’re tempted to hit his shoulder, but you remember that he’s injured, “How long have you been awake for?”

Yeonjun doesn't bother answering your question; instead, he leans in, locking eyes with you. The look he gives you is soft, and his lips form a gentle smile. You feel your cheeks heat up, your chest doing the same as you shrink back into your chair.

“What?” 

“You like me.” 

You freeze and begin to panic. How were you supposed to react to that? You were supposed to be having a conversation about how he was feeling… if he has a concussion… you were supposed to be giving him the dittany ointment you brought with you… but not this.

“N-no I don’t!” you try your best to keep composure, gulping a growing lump in your throat.

“Why else would you be here to visit me?” Yeonjun’s nose scrunches, “You care about me.” His head tilts to the side, still training his eyes on you, “I think it was about time.” 

At this point, your heart’s running a mile a minute and the room’s growing hot. What were you supposed to do? You were still in the position to deny everything. That, no, you weren’t here because you liked him. You could say you did care about him but as a friend. It worked. Besides, you were here strictly to make sure he was well. Not to confess. 

But then again, this was practically an opportunity that was beckoning for you to go for it and take the chance. Yeonjun was making it easy for you. So, why not?

"And what if I do like you?" You narrow your eyes at him, a playful smile forming on your lips. "Did you forget that you like me, too?"

“Wait, what?” Yeonjun’s eyes widen and his jaw drops to his chest, “You’re not joking right?”

“Joking about what?”

“A-about you liking me,” he stammers. Yeonjun shuffles in his bed, trying his best to sit up, “I-I was just joking about you liking me… I didn’t think that… you’d actually agree to it.”

“Why would I joke about that?” you frown. 

“I-I don’t know,” Yeonjun begins to play with the edge of his blanket. He’s a stuttering mess and he can’t seem to muster up the confidence he’s always had around you. It was an odd feeling. He’s never been on this end before, “You’re really… not joking?” 

“I would never joke about that,” you shake your head. 

“A-are you sure you’re not joking,” Yeonjun repeats, “Like really?” He hopes that he’s not visibly sweating through his bandages and that you can’t hear the hint of nervousness in the tone of his voice. There was even a part of him that thinks that he’s just woken up in a dream and in reality, he’s still passed out on the infirmary bed and recovering from his fall.

What… What if he’s not actually alive right now and his brain is shamelessly walking through his dreams?

Nope. Too much. 

He knows that this was real life solely because he could still feel a mix of both stinging and dull pain in his broken arm. 

“Choi Yeonjun, I really am not joking!” you groan, frustration evident in your voice. "Do I need to provide you with evidence? Because I can't even pinpoint when I started liking you! It just... happened, okay?"

Yeonjun takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his expression shifting. He realizes you're not joking. Like, really not joking. 

You really do like him back. 

At the realization, a surge of confidence washes over him and that playful smile that you’ve grown familiar with appears on Yeonjun’s lips. 

"You can... prove it to me with a kiss," he suggests, his voice tinged with anticipation. Yeonjun can’t quite read your expression, so he quickly follows up his cheeky proposal with, “Only if you’re okay with it! But I’m just… saying that I’m okay with it.”

Yeonjun's gaze drops, and he focuses on the imprint of his toes in the blanket as he waits for your reply. He hears you shift in your chair and soon he feels a looming presence right by his cheek. He feels a rush of warmth from your breath, causing a shiver to run down his spine and momentarily freezing him in place.

With a mix of nerves and excitement, Yeonjun squeezes his eyes shut, his heart pounding in his chest. He's not entirely sure what to expect, but the hopeful part of him believes that you might be leaning in for that suggested kiss. Just as he thinks you might lean in for the kiss, he feels a gentle peck on his cheek.

You pull back, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "There," you tease.

Yeonjun's cheeks flush a tint of red, “T-There?” 

“Was that not enough to prove it?” 

He pouts, “I was… expecting it to be…” Yeonjun gestures to his lips in the cutest way possible. He appeared to be genuinely confused, brows furrowing, “To be…” He’s too embarrassed to say it out loud. 

You playfully roll your eyes and lean in once again, aiming for a gentle peck on the corner of Yeonjun's lips. But Yeonjun's curiosity drives him to turn his head toward you, causing your lips to meet. 

The contact of his chapped lips on yours catches you off guard, sending what felt like jolts of electricity through your body. For a moment, you consider pulling away, afraid that you've made a mistake, but the gentle hold of Yeonjun's arm around your forearm anchors you in place, easing your nerves. It was like his own way of saying it was okay if you were okay with it too, allowing you both to melt into the kiss. 

There’s a brief second that you both forget that you’re sitting in the infirmary of the castle, the world around you fading into the background. All you could hear is the muffled sound of your heart knocking against your chest, and you’re hoping and praying that Yeonjun doesn’t hear it.

Just as Yeonjun brings himself to deepen the kiss, you’re both interrupted by the voice of a certain Gryffindor, “This is exactly what I was afraid of!” 

You turn to find Changbin with a bouquet of flowers (which he had obviously picked from the castle grounds’ bushes) and a rather appalled expression on his face. He lets out an exasperated groan before turning away, muttering under his breath as he walks off. His voice fades off into the distance, “I’ll be back later… won’t be mushy-gushy my arse… I wonder if there’s a spell that’s equivalent to bleaching my eyes…”

You and Yeonjun exchange a glance and burst into fits of laughter, unable to contain the hilarity of the situation. Of all people, it just had to be Changbin who walked in at that moment.

As the laughter subsides, you both catch your breath, still wearing wide smiles on your faces. You and Yeonjun settle back into the moment. The interruption may have momentarily disrupted the moment, but it also added a touch of light-heartedness to the intensity of your feelings.

“So…” You say, “Did I prove it to you?”

Yeonjun's warm gaze meets yours, his voice filled with certainty, "That was more than enough to prove it."

If you made it this far, I want to thank you so much for taking the time to read this! It would be cool to hear what your fav part/'chapter' was (I'm a curious person)! If not, it's okay, I'm still thankful you read this! <33

[mycenalucentipes]

Panicked Confession

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Pansy Parkinson has been picking on you ever since she found out about your troubles and little crush on Draco Malfoy. Pansy’s bullying wasn’t even the worst of your problems though. Life is just… You’re distraught. Everything feels wrong. You feel wrong. Something isn’t right and you don’t have anyone to turn to for help. It’s all too much. You just want to collapse. 

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, bullying, breakdown, cursing, panic attack, su!c!dal thoughts, one minor mention of blood

Word count: ~2.3k

a/n: Fluff at the end! I love Draco so much. Maybe I'm self projecting onto Y/n, but I too, would love to be hugged by Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts lol 

It was during dinner that Pansy fucking Parkinson decided that you would be her victim tonight. Somehow, she found out about all of your insecurities and your teeny tiny crush on the Slytherin Prince. Pansy was not about to let another girl try and “steal him away” from her. Though he wasn’t Pansy’s. He wasn’t owned by anyone. That’s just ridiculous.  

Weeks prior to the abuse, at the beginning of the term, you and Draco got paired up (Much to Malfoy’s dismay) for potions and then for an essay in transfiguration. Although arrogant and snobbish at first, you somehow managed to get Draco to warm up to you. Perhaps the kind little smiles and waves you gave him as you entered or exited the classroom. You didn’t show fear when he approached, nor an undying love for him. You treated him like a normal person and were quite competent at your work. 

Which is how you somehow ended up here.

“You useless little, filthy, half-blood bitch! Why are you still here? Hm? Why show your face, you’re such a disgrace to the wizarding world!” She spat at you while leaning over your shaking figure on the ground. Pansy and a couple other Slytherin girls decided to drag you into the bathroom during dinner. “He’ll never love you. You’re a fucking Hufflepuff of all houses. He won’t even glance in your direction!” They screamed and cackled in your face. 

They pushed you over, tore your robes, pulled your hair, and kicked you to and on the ground. Believe it or not, Pansy and her friend’s bullying wasn’t the main cause of your worries. You could care less about them in all honesty, but this semester has been rough. Your mind was letting their words get the better of you.

Recently, you really were beginning to believe you were just a good for nothing waste of space. You should just squash your silly little crush like a bug, right? Kill it. Before it consumed you further. It was this night, where you truly believed their words. That you never stood a chance in gaining Draco’s love and affection. You wanted to escape reality. You wanted nothing more than to finally escape school and home life. 

After they thoroughly beat you down, they left you to your own despair on the cold, hard bathroom floor. You needed an escape from reality tonight. Your mind was getting worse, growing weak, why couldn’t you handle it anymore? You took off running. Not back to dinner in the Great Hall, but to the highest place where you could escape the chatter, murmurs, gossip, insults, all of it.

You clumsily ran up the stairs. To the top of the Astronomy Tower, that was where you were headed. Everything was crumbling inside of you. You’ve tried so hard, yet nothing seems to be working out in your mind. Your mind was falling into a hole that you weren’t sure you could climb out of. So deep, so far away.

Sure, you looked okay from the outside. Nothing was actually falling apart on the outside, maybe except your appearance. But your grades were good, professors liked you, you had a few good friends, maybe your family wasn’t all that perfect, but they weren’t physically abusive. Even if things hadn’t started so great, they were ending up alright. So why were you so broken still? Was it the past years of trauma that you’ve hid from? You couldn’t figure it out. Everything was too much, you couldn’t breathe. 

Reaching the top of the Astronomy Tower, breathing erratic, you flung yourself to the railing. Not to jump over, no. Just to hold onto something tight, to try and gain a sense of reality back. Your whole body was wracked with shivers and the occasional sob that you tried to hold back. It was growing difficult to contain any semblance of sanity that might’ve been left in your panic stricken mind. Was the world caving in? Or was it your conscience?

Your thoughts were a cacophony of anxiety, they clashed and clamored around the inside of your skull. They’ve longed to break out and be free. But you were scared to let them out and be seen, to be heard. You didn’t want to be vulnerable or “attention-seeking”. So, what could you do, other than just bottle it up? Tonight though, you shouted. You shouted over the edge of the railing at the top of your lungs until your voice was hoarse. 

Tears spilled over the edge of your eyes as you kept shouting. Some screams were just pure screams, others were just insults to throw into the void. Hiccups here and there from the violent sobs that wracked your trembling frame. It was piercingly cold, but you couldn’t feel anything, just pure numbness. 

As your voice ran dry of screams and cries, you sunk to the ground. Bringing your knees to your chest, you kept sobbing. Unable to hear any outside sounds from the static in your ears that buzzed so intensely, you never heard Draco approaching you. 

Draco thought it was a little odd that Pansy and some other Slytherin girls took you out of the Great Hall. He was pretty sure he saw them drag you out, but maybe that was his mind exaggerating. He somehow grew a soft spot for the little Hufflepuff girl. Draco didn’t understand how you did it, but all he knew was that he cared for you and liked you. A lot. 

After thirty minutes had passed and you still had not re-entered, but Pansy and her friends did, he grew slightly worried. They looked smug, too smug to be innocent. He had to go find you, as this was not like you to just leave your plate untouched, or so he thought. Draco stood up abruptly from the table, his silverware clattered from the sudden movement. 

“Oh, Dracy~ Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Pansy tugged at his sleeve with a doe-like look. 

“Buzz off Parkinson. This doesn’t concern you– Or maybe it does?” Draco yanked his arm back and out of Pansy’s grasp. He shot her a sharp glare and snarled out, “Do you have any idea what might’ve happened to Y/n?” A look of fright flashed over Pansy’s features. She did her best to play innocent, but that one second of fear was enough for Draco to understand.

“I have no idea where that filthy little Hufflepuff could have gone. Why would I care? Why do you care? She’s not worth your time! She’s a bloody Hufflepuff!” Pansy shot back, desperation in her voice as she tried to convince Draco to stay. 

“Parkinson, just leave her alone! You have no right to meddle in my business and relationships! Don’t you or anyone else ever lay a fucking hand on her again.” Draco growled back. He stormed out of the hall in a hurry, not caring that Pansy was calling for him, or that other students were starting to stare. He had to make sure you were okay. 

He burst into the girls restrooms, not caring that he wasn’t a girl. All that he was able to find in there were scraps of your papers from your bag on the ground and a few specks of blood here and there. Draco huffed in frustration, then quickly left the bathrooms. He wasn’t quite sure where to start looking for you, this school was huge! He’d never known you to be in distress or anything more than anxious for an exam. You never showed him any signs of this happening. He opted to just start walking, he would cover more ground than just standing around. 

The Astronomy Tower. That was his first choice, he figured that might be the best option. He would occasionally visit the peaceful place in the late hours of the night to clear his mind. As he ascended the stairs he could hear strangled, painful sobs. He knew it was you. His pace quickened and he was soon bounding up the stairs to rush to your side. 

Once he reached the top, his eyes flicked around, looking for you. It didn’t take long until his gaze landed on you by the railing, huddled up to your knees, rocking back and forth. Draco cautiously approached you, not wanting to spook you. Slowly, he knelt down beside you, one knee touching the ground, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/n?” He started out, his voice gentle and full of concern. Your eyes shot up to him, panic swimming in them. His heart clenched at the sight of your frightened form. You saw his lips moving, but could not hear a single thing coming out of them. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong? Can you speak to me?” His worry grew as you weren’t responding to him. Only looking into his eyes with tears pouring from yours. “You’ll be okay. It’s alright, Y/n. I’m here for you…” He kept whispering out sweet little reassurances. Eventually your hearing came back to reality, however your breathing was still erratic as you cried. 

“Y/n,” Draco’s voice slightly wavered with concern, “can I hug you? Is that okay?” His words, soft and comforting, offered deep compassion for you. He understood that it was difficult for you to communicate in this state. Still overwhelmed, you mustered a small nod. Quickly upon watching your answer, he drew you into a tight embrace. You felt the warmth radiating off of him that shielded you from the harsh winds of the cold night. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the steady sound of his heartbeat. 

“Follow my breathing if you can.” He whispered sweetly, while rubbing small circles into your back. Gradually, you were able to follow along, calming your breathing and senses down. Though the tears still fell thickly from your eyes, the hysteria was gone. Eventually you found your voice. 

“D-Draco, w-why are you up here?” Your voice was rough from tonight, cracking part way through your question. Your body was still shaking, but less so than before. 

“I was worried about you when you didn’t come back to dinner,” He sighed with worry laced in his voice. “I saw Parkinson and her friends saunter back in, but you weren’t there.” He continued to explain what happened between him and Pansy. His voice grew angrier and tenser with each sentence. He was breathing heavily when he finished explaining how he found you. 

You froze for a couple seconds, then snaked your arms around his waist, hugging him back. “Thank you, Draco.” You said with a small voice, “I-I’m sorry you had to see me like this. Everything became too much for me, and I– I just–...” Draco calmly shushed you as you struggled for words, one of his hands now stroking the back of your head. 

“It’s okay, Y/n.” 

“Thank you again, I just love you so much, I–” You paused, realizing what you just said. Flustered, you pushed yourself back a couple feet from his hold, looking anywhere but him. He stumbled back off his knees a bit, now sitting on his bum, looking flustered as well. Not quite as flustered, but blushing red nonetheless. 

“Y-you love me as well?” He asked, voice quiet, needing confirmation that he heard you correctly. 

“Umm, yes. I-I do quite fancy you, Draco. It’s okay if you don’t, I– Wait did you say ‘as well’?” No it was your turn to stare in shock, thinking about what he just asked. “Since when?”

“Since we had to write that transfiguration essay together.” He confessed, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “I only recently came to terms with my feelings a couple weeks ago though.” You beamed at him, blushing even harder. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the worst night ever anymore. Just a tad embarrassing to be confessing like this after having a full blown mental breakdown and panic attack in front of him. Not quite how you thought this confession would turn out. You actually had planned to just take this crush with you to your grave, not wanting to ruin the friendship you had grown with him. 

“I-I’ll confess, I’ve liked you ever since we were paired up in potions at the start of the term.” You chuckled at the memories of him huffing and pouting at the fact that he had to work with a Hufflepuff. 

“Hmm, I’m sorry I was so rude to you back then. You had done nothing wrong. Just merely been a Hufflepuff.” He teased at the end, earning him a small punch to the arm. He feigned offense and hurt at your playful act. “I’m so hurt haha.” 

“As if!” You let out a genuine laugh and it was like music to his ears. You shuffled closer to him again, sitting between his legs, facing him directly. Both of you gazed into each other’s eyes, mesmerized and gaining a new understanding for each. Slowly leaning closer, Draco delicately placed his lips onto yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you reciprocated the action, leaning into a deeper kiss. Is this what bliss and heaven were like? You were sure you reached your utopia. Butterflies danced in your stomach and you truly felt sparks flying. After holding the kiss for a little while, you both pulled apart for air. 

Slightly panting and still staring deeply into his soul, you sat against him, your back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his chin on your shoulder. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” This time he sighed with content, “Don’t let Parkinson or her entourage tell you anything different. I’ll personally make sure of it.” You laughed at this then sighed with comfort as well. 

“Oh, but of course. You’ll protect me, my knight in shining armor!” You joked lightly, playing with his hands that lay in your lap. It felt so right, how your hands fit into his larger ones. “Can we stay up here just a bit longer? Just, hold me, please?” 

“Of course we can. I would love nothing more.” His voice hummed in your ears. So deep and calming in the cold and windy night. “Just the two of us.”

[klilyr]

Theo shuffled his feet as he was being reprimanded by Professor Sprout. 

He knew he had fucked up by not completing his homework but he figured the raging war around them would have given him some sort of reprieve from this sort of interrogation.

He wasn’t planning on becoming a death eater like the rest of his house mates, wasn’t that enough for this woman?

He had a plan, and herbology wasn’t high up on his list of priorities, if he was being honest.

He was going to run.

Sure, it wasn’t the most valiant of plans, but he didn’t have parents breathing down his neck to make him choose sides, so why shouldn’t he save his own skin?

As soon as school was out for the year, Theo would be gone. He would let Draco, Vincent and Greg be the death eaters they were so desperate to be. He would let Harry, Ron and Hermione try to be heroes. He would stay so far out of it.

He wanted nothing to do with any of it.

“Mr. Nott, if you can’t get your Fluxweed to grow larger than a foot then we have a real problem when it comes to your NEWTs,” Sprout prattled on as Theo searched deep within himself to care.

She gave him one more searching look before she left the greenhouse, shaking her head. Theo really thought he was finally alone as he reached down to stroke his plant, as if in an apology for his useless tending when he heard another voice.

“Fluxweed tend to grow faster in the moonlight. Maybe take yours outside for the night, I’m sure it’ll be bigger tomorrow.”

Theo whipped his head up to see Neville Longbottom packing away his things in the corner of the room.

“What?”

“Take it outside,” Neville repeated himself, “It’ll help.”

Theo scoffed and left the room but found himself thinking about Neville’s words later that night when he lay in bed. Draco, Vincent and Greg had never returned to the dorm. Blaise was sound asleep. He tiptoed out of the room and headed to the greenhouses to take Neville’s advice.

He gently placed the Fluxweed outside, near the groundskeeper's hut.

He suddenly heard the screaming and frantically hid himself behind a tree as he saw death eater’s run around the building, casting curses to set the place on fire, followed by a hurried Snape and a furious Harry. He heard, from his hiding place, Harry announce Dumbledore had just fallen.

Fuck.

Tonight. 

He needed to leave Hogwarts and the UK tonight.

He sent a silent thanks to Neville for his advice to take the Fluxwood out that night so he was able to hear exactly what was going on.

That advice might have just saved his life.

This was written as a 'rare pair' as part of a secret santa exchange and I ended up not getting the person requesting rare pairs so imma post it here rather than it sit in my docs! (it's not romantic, just two people who never talked in canon)

[diana-bluewolf]

Sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, surrounded by crumbs and the lingering smell of gingerbread, a mandrake glares at the plates of untouched cookies. You pause, wondering why it hasn't screamed yet.

"Cookies. Hot chocolate. Mince pies." it says, voice rising with every word. "Oh, how delightful. Everyone gets to feast and indulge. But me? Do I get a treat? A snack? Anything? Or is it too much to spare a little bite?"

What do you do?

Chris freezes at the mandrake’s words, a wave of cold numbness washes over his chest. He slowly turns his head to the grumpy plant, shocked. 

Could it be?

He puts in so much effort to shield his mind from others, yet here he is - facing a cursed, in every sense of the word, object that broadcasts his mental processes for all to hear? 

It takes him a moment to realise that the mandrake’s words reflect the thoughts of younger Chris rather than him at the moment. 

Well, maybe he wasn’t that demanding. After all, he used to think that there were people who got treats and those who were less worthy, and the only purpose of Christmas was to highlight the gap between them. That was just a rule, and he simply wasn’t born to fall into the first category. 

Still, his younger self would definitely understand the sentiment. Hogwarts presents a stark contrast in terms of the abundance of food compared to— He doesn’t want to think about it - everything is different now. 

The mandrake’s words are probably just a coincidence. Even so, he has to make sure.

"Do you read people's minds?" he thinks, staring at the mandrake.  

"Why can't I get at least a tiny piece of this mince pie?" The mandrake keeps whining, ignoring all Chris's thoughts. 

Coincidence. Just a useless thing, of which there are plenty in Zonko. Chris is both relieved and disappointed. It could have helped him advance his research into objects capable of Legilimency, like The Sorting Hat.

Chris turns away, ready to leave. He takes a couple of steps and stops, frowning. 

He is NOT going to do it, is he?

After a moment of hesitation, he turns around abruptly, grabbing a mince pie from the table and roughly shoving it into the mandrake's mouth.

Stupid plant.

No, Chris corrects himself tiredly. It's not the plant that is stupid among the two of them. 

"Merry Christmas," he mutters to the mandrake, which is devouring the pie, "I wish you a very merry choking on it."

Chris glances around the kitchen, his gaze crashing into the house-elf, who is staring at him with giant eyes, clutching a broom anxiously.

“Nice evening, isn’t it?” Chris is trying to smooth things over but smiles, and the smile looks like a painful scowl. Realising by the elf’s fearful expression that he has made everything only worse, Chris retreats from the kitchen.

Merlin, how much he hates this time of the year.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

detentions: what do you think about them?

I assume this is in the context of Harry Potter because otherwise, I can't say much as my school didn't really do detentions. I'm gonna talk about detentions in HP and a bit about what my school did instead.

Now, detentions vary between the books quite a bit (probably because the Wizarding World & Hogwarts changed in JKR's mind), so, I'll outline the different types of detentions and what I think about them in general. I will not include detentions like with Umbridge or the Carrows, since that clearly isn't what's supposed to be happening at the school by the point we see in canon.

Ridiculously Dangerous Detentions

This sort of detention only really appears in book 1, probably so JKR could have Harry in the forest and see Voldy munching on a unicorn.

“I shouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, they’re here to be punished, after all.” “That’s why yer late, is it?” said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’ them, eh? ‘Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from here.” “I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch, “for what’s left of them,” he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness. Malfoy now turned to Hagrid. “I’m not going in that forest,” he said, and Harry was pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice. “Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts,” said Hagrid fiercely. “Yeh’ve done wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it.”

(PS)

From the later books, it appears this sort of detention isn't normal. And for good reason. I mean, it's bizarre to send 11-year-old kids whose only defensive ability is shooting red sparks to spend the entire night in the Forbidden Forest, where something is killing unicorns. Yes, Hagrid is with them, but technically Hagrid isn't allowed to carry a wand and even if he is there, the group gets separated so Hagrid isn't with them at all times.

I assume this was a special case detention and not the norm. Likely personally requested either by Hagrid or Dumbledore for various possible reasons. Regardless I consider this one an outlier that shouldn't be counted since there is something deeper and more specific going on in this particular detention.

I'd also want to note:

“What — what are you doing?” said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air. “Teaching,” said Moody. “Teach — Moody, is that a student?” shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms. “Yep,” said Moody. “No!” cried Professor McGonagall [...] “Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!” said Professor McGonagall weakly. “Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?” “He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,” said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, “but I thought a good sharp shock —” “We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender’s Head of House!”

(GoF)

That I find McGonagall's outrage funny here. I mean, yeah, a student could get hurt badly as a bouncing ferret, but so could four 11-year-olds you send to spend the night in the forest filled with dangerous, lethal creatures that is coincidentally right next to the school.

What Hogwarts Detentions are Actually Like

So, the Forbidden Forest one, as I said, was a unique exception but what does a normal student’s detention look like?

It looks like manual labor:

You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch,” said Professor McGonagall. “And no magic, Weasley — elbow grease.”

(CoS)

It was, as Harry had anticipated, useless, boring work, punctuated (as Snape had clearly planned) with the regular jolt in the stomach that meant he had just read his father or Sirius’s names, usually coupled together in various petty misdeeds, occasionally accompanied by those of Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. And while he copied out all their various offenses and punishments

(HBP)

Cleaning trophies, sorting detention records, signing photos for Lockhart — basically something boring and manual that wastes your time. This is pretty normal as far as detentions go (I think, again, my school didn't have them), but from what I read/saw/heard detention is a time you are supposed to spend quite at school, being supervised and not having fun while not being hurt. So, yeah, the Hogwarts detentions we see mostly fit the bill (save for Lockhart who keeps Harry in detention way too late, but, that's a Lockhart problem).

Now, do I think this is an effective punishment that doesn't harm students unnecessarily but still deters them from further wrongdoing? Not particularly.

I mean, we see students like the Mauraders, the Weasley Twins, and even Harry and co aren't at all deterred from their behavior by the school's punishment system. I mean, after book 1, most characters don't seem to care about detentions and house points.

So, detentions seem to be kinda useless since they waste time for the teacher and the student, and the student doesn't seem overly affected, at least, not the ones we follow. I'm not really an authority over disciplinary punishments in schools, and at the end of the day a student with a strong enough will / doesn't care about staying at school, wouldn't care for any punishment and you'll need to improve behavior by a method that isn't based on punishment. Fear is a motivator that can only get you so far.

I mean, Sirius mentions he and James had too much fun in detentions together and that's why teachers separated them to actually punish them. And then, James and Sirius made the two-way mirrors and still had fun in detentions.

This is why detentions never deterred them from anything. It's a relatively soft punishment, and if you don't mind sitting around, it's hardly a punishment at all. That being said, I am incredibly opposed to corporal punishment.

What did my school do

As I mentioned, I'm no expert in student discipline, but I can talk about my own experiences. My high school was a weird semi-private school and didn't do detentions (when I'm saying weird, I mean weird. We had peacocks walking around between the buildings like at Malfoy Manor. Sometimes, they got inside the buildings. Who needs hall monitors when you have hall peacocks. We also had school goats, and one of them attacked my mom once). We didn't really have punishments at school at all. Teachers just told us very clearly: "If you enter the classroom, it means you're here to learn. Don't want to learn, stay outside," and that was kinda it. You weren't punished for skipping class besides low grades, so it made behaving well in class a student's responsibility. You won't be punished, you'd just be told to leave and your grades would be what suffers.

Class was a pretty freeform kind of environment as well with most teachers. Like, students with hyperactivity were allowed to pace at the back of the classroom during lessons, students could sit on the window seal if they were more comfortable there, you could come and go from most of the classes as you pleased (especially in the final two years), and on nice days, sometimes, we'd have our classes outside on the lawn. Most classes acted more like discussions rather than just a teacher lecturing at you. I had classes where the teachers told me I could just skip since I'm ahead of the class and I'd use these hours to do homework in other subjects. I had a classmate who despised one of our teachers personally, so she made an agreement with him that he'd not arrive at her classes, study on his own during class time and only arrive to do exams. Because this is how the school operated, we didn't really have displanary issues in classes, hence no detentions.

Any sort of fighting or bullying that got to the staff was punished by an immediate suspension, during which your parents were expected to be the ones to dish out the punishment they found appropriate. You only got 3 suspensions, anything suspension-worthy you did after that almost always got you expelled, and that'll be the end of it. So, that wasn't much of an issue either. I actually don't really know of bullying that happened at my school (at least nothing extreme and targeted. Mean comments flew about for sure, but no one really cared, everyone was making fun of everyone pretty equally. The school only got involved when things got violent or verbally extreme. Like, calling someone a 'shithead' here and there doesn't count), I heard about fights, and even was in one, but not bullying. The fights were not a common occurrence either, most students (and teachers) were just pretty chill, especially in the upper years.

So, yeah, that's what I have to say about detentions.

[hpsaffics]

✨ WLW Wed: Cissamione (Part 1) ✨

A biweekly HP femslash rec list made by the lovely members of the HP SAFFICS (18+) discord server. See all previous rec lists in the WLW Library.

Currently: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy (see Part 2) Previously: Ginsy (see list)

—

💫 Hella Long (>100k) 💫

Extinction by @rubikanon [M, 200k]

Post-war adventure across the British countryside, Hermione accidentally falls in love with Narcissa Malfoy, classified missions and intrigue and dementors oh my, Ron isn't a jerk (what?! unheard of!), slow burn romance with a Serious Plot.

Blinding Lights by @16-pennies [T, 121k]

Hermione is left prisoner at Malfoy Manor, presumed dead by the Order and her days numbered by the Death Eaters. Against all odds, she discovers an unexpected ally...

The House of Black by Calliopeia419 [E, 102k]

Hermione studies for a PhD in English Literature and Drama, but struggles to pay the rent on the flat. Already drowning in work for her thesis, she contemplates accepting a job at the university library. But her supervisor Andromeda Tonks suggests an alternative - that Hermione take a part-time job with her sister, who runs a 'small clothes shop'...

The Ties that Bind by @belladonnainbloom [E, 102k]

Finally fed up with the useless advice of healers, Hermione is sure she'll never be able to remove the scar left on her arm by Bellatrix's knife. In a last act of desperation, she seeks out Narcissa Malfoy, now a veritable recluse after the war, in the hopes that she might know something… anything that could help.

—

💫 Long (10k-100k) 💫

Secrets of Stonehenge by Asgerthedemon [E, 82.6k]

Once again [Hermione] must save the world from mortal peril, so another Monday at the office. With the help of her friends and new girlfriend Narcissa, she faces off against the Creatures of Chaos, grudge holding journalists and a possessive ex. How will she make it through this trying time?

Dressed in Black by @habren [M, 31.3k]

Trapped in different cages, a surprising request leads to a series of Friday evening meetings that change Hermione's and Narcissa's lives forever.

She's Just a Boy by @looktotheedges [T, 28.8k]

Draco has been given a task by the Dark Lord. A task he can't refuse... Well. Narcissa Malfoy shan't let her son become a killer... She'll do anything for her son... Take his place at Hogwarts...and do the deed herself. Although she had not anticipated being a teenage boy being quite so difficult.

Sonnets & Submission by @storyof-eden [E, 26.5k]

Hermione was just twelve years old when she decided she would follow Harry Potter anywhere. At thirty, she never would've imagined it would lead where it did. To a BDSM club in the middle of London. To kneeling on the floor by her Mistress. To falling in love.

Silhouette by @maraudersaffair, SecondSilk, @sunflower-swan [E, 25.2k] WITH ART!

After the war, Narcissa is down and out and working as a seamstress when Hermione asks her to be her personal dressmaker. Narcissa agrees... The problem is Narcissa can't stop thinking about what it would be like to shag Hermione.

Love in the Eye of a Storm by @rattlesoft [M, 24.3k]

After the war, Narcissa Malfoy spends all of her time holed up in Malfoy Manor. Growing more and more dissatisfied, she takes a holiday to a mysterious island that promises no contact with the outside world. There, she encounters someone else in similar circumstances and a threat straight from her nightmares.

you say they're beautiful (but i can't breathe) by @evadwrites [T, 11.5k]

“It’s stupid,” Narcissa announces when Bella is finished talking. “Why would anyone choose to die for somebody who doesn’t love them back?”... It’s not until Narcissa falls in love with Hermione Granger that she knows for sure: she would let love kill her in a heartbeat.

—

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[raviliuz]

Slytherin Quidditch Team's wands

It got kinda long... But I haven't written shit in so long do maybe that's better

Terence Higgs - Phoenix feather core, cedar wood

Terence had spent nearly an hour at Ollivander's, trying out different wands before finding the right one. And after his first months at Hogwarts, he sincerely doubted that this wand was really the right one.

Phoenix feather wands have a strong self-initiative and are the hardest to tame. At first, the wand often disobeyed him, but the more he used it, the better they worked together. Both phoenix feather core and cedarwood are highly loyal. I really like the idea of wands matching the character of the wizard, and Terence is extremely loyal to his loved ones and, despite his generally nice nature, is very tenacious and unforgiving. Ollivander's grandfather used to say that you couldn't fool a person with a wand made of cedar, because the tree chose wizards who were perceptive and observant.

Although the beginnings were difficult, with each passing year Terence became better and more in tune with his wand. After a few years, it was debatable whether Terence's wand was more loyal to him or he was to his wand. Also, he takes great care of his belongings and handles them extremely carefully so his wand was in perfect condition for years, serving him for his whole life

Marcus Flint - Dragon heartstring core (antipodean opaleye), hornbeam wood

To quote the Harry Potter wiki's description of the hornbeam, it "selects for its life mate the talented witch or wizard with a single, pure passion, which some might call obsession." Yeah, I think that's pretty self-explanatory.

However, another property of hornbeam is more interesting. These wands were incredibly customizable, literally taking over their owner's moral rules. In the hands of another person, they became useless, as well as when someone tried to do something inconsistent with their owner. I think it's very fitting considering Marcus' family. You know, a noble bloodline house where there are rules that Marcus doesn't agree with and individualism is killed. Flint's wand emphasized being himself and kept him from turning away from his ideals in difficult times. Marcus' parents often took his wand away as punishment, but the wand literally protested, wouldn't let anyone else use it, and when his father tried to force Marcus to do something against him, it would reflect the spells at his father. Marcus became very attached to his wand, which was really powerful in his hands.

Once, Marcus' father, upset, wanted to force him to buy a new wand. Marcus couldn't imagine using another, and to dissuade his father from the idea, he began to convince him that this wand had chosen him, the other would be less suited and would be even worse at magic. Marcus was not the sharpest tool in the shed in school, which was a huge complex for him at the time, adding to his already big self-loathing. However, Marcus was ready to say out loud that he's a shit wizard if there was a chance it would allow him to keep his wand.

The core was from the heart of the antipodean opaleye, a beautiful dragon from New Zealand, which despite its size is quite gentle and does not attack unless it has to

Cassius Warrington - Dragon heartstring core (Ukrainian ironbelly), yew wood

Cassius bought his wand in Bulgaria. In Britain, his combination was not popular. Yew wood had a bad reputation, it was said to attract bad luck and black magic. Little Cass did not understand why such a wand had chosen him, but a few years later he found that he and the wand fit together - Cassius was very unsuperstitious, often looking for trouble for fun, walking under every ladder, petting every black cat. It just amused him how much people, both wizards and muggles, cared about such nonsense. No one could explain how a given superstition would work, but just in case they subordinated their lives to it. So yes, Cass and yew wood went well together.

The wand was also powerful, both the yew and the dragon heartstring had a lot of strength and choses wizards with desire to be great. The dragon heartstring in Cassius's wand came from the Ukrainian ironbelly - the largest dragon, one of the more aggressive and dangerous. As the name suggests, they occurred mainly in Ukraine, which made them more popular in Bulgaria than in Great Britain.

The yew wand buried with the wizard sprouted and guarded the owner's grave, I wanted to mention it because I find it very edgy and romantic at the same time

Peregrine Derrick - Unicorn hair core, hawthorn wood

Hawthorn wands were chaotic. Great both for healing magic, preferred by Derrick, after Hogwarts he became a magimedic after all, but also perfect for curses. The problem was that hawthorn wands often reflected carelessly thrown spells back at the owner.

At first, Perry suffered a lot trying to learn the rules and how the wand works. Only after some time did he understand that there are no rules that he can learn, and he just has to accept acting in chaos. Derrick himself worked best in chaos anyway, he and the wand fit together, it chose him for a reason. Perry always had a mess in which only he could find his way, he focused best and worked in noise. He was from a large family, it was never quiet in his house, so he felt uncomfortable in silence and could not concentrate. He did fifteen things at once, and surprisingly they all turned out better than if he had done them separately (then he probably wouldn't have done half of them).

After some time, Derrick learned to cooperate with the wand and became attached to it, even when it did not always want to act as it should in class when it was required of him. The wand, however, worked perfectly at work. Derrick became a medic at St. Mungo's, and both hawthorn and unicorn hair support healing magic. Derrick and the wand have gotten along great over the years. Perry was close to tears when the core of his wand died and he had to have it repaired. Without it, he felt like he was missing a part of himself, even though he was given a replacement wand and was free to use magic

Lucian Bole - Thestral tail hair core, apple wood

When little Luke heard what the core of the wand that chose him was, he turned pale. As a child, Lucian witnessed a group of strangers crash while flying on a flying carpet, and some drunk passengers ended up falling from a great high which caused death. This obviously affected Luke hard, who from then on preferred muggle ways of transport and was able to see thestrals. So when he heard that his wand had a thestral hair core, he thought it was an unfunny joke, reminding him of his trauma.

Ollivander didn't quite understand the boy's reaction. Indeed, quite a few wizards believed that thestrals were bad luck, but he hadn't expected such superstition from an eleven-year-old. Despite everything, he tried to reassure Luke, explaining to him that many adventures and journeys awaited him because such people were chosen by wands with a Thestral hair core. This piqued Lucian's interest, and he started asking Ollivander about the various wand specs (perhaps the days before the start of the school year when the traffic is incredibly busy is not the best time for such conversations, but Ollivander couldn't let go of educating the kid who was so eager to listen). Lucian was very happy to hear that the apple tree chooses likeable people, leaders with personal charm. Ollivander made Luke promise on a small finger that he would do his best at school and educate himself because apparently, the wand sees in him the ability to achieve great goals and openness to the world.

Lucian actually traveled a lot, he was passionate about getting to know different people and cultures. He also had a strong interest in the muggle world, eventually attending a muggle university. After a lesson in Care of Magical Creatures, he also became more fond of thestrals, seeing that despite their bad press, they are intelligent and gentle

Adrian Pucey - Unicorn hair core, willow wood

Adrian quickly found his wand. To be honest, he wasn't interested in its characteristics, preferring to go shopping instead of reading the description of his wand. His wand worked great from the start, the core of unicorn tail hair was consistent and loyal, it fitted Adrian quickly, and was a great tool.

Adrian had learned more about the characteristics of his wand in a fourth-year Charms class when Flitwick was ill and Binns was teaching instead. The historian wanted to combine their subjects and make a more theoretical lesson about the history of wands and their characteristics. Adrian read the description of his wand core, nodded, matching. He also made a mental note for the future that the hair sometimes needed replacing.

Then he read the description of the willowwood. He read the last sentence of the description and felt personally attacked. "The owner of such a wand was often insecure." Exposed by your own wand. Adrian has indeed always been insecure. This demotivated Adrian a bit in his fight with overthinking and complexes, because he thought that it must have been innate then, if the wand, choosing him as an eleven-year-old, had already noticed it.

During the summer, Lucian forcibly dragged him to Ollivander's shop to explain to him that wands, like the Sorting Hat, see potential and possibilities, but we create who we are. A wizard may have the most powerful wand, but that does not mean that he will be the most powerful, only that with his own work and the right conditions he can be powerful. Luke kept telling Adrian this, but he could see that he wasn't taking it seriously, that he needed an expert (also a stranger who wouldn't really care about him) to tell him that

Graham Montage - Thunderbird tail feather core, ebony wood

Graham had barely entered Ollivander's shop when the wand literally flew towards him and hit him in the chest. Ollivander, genuinely surprised, only commented "I hope you're here for the wand, young man, because this wand wants to be with you very much."

The wand was imported from America. Ollivander struck a deal with the American wand maker Aleshanee Wolfe, a relative of Shikoba Wolfe, so that he had some of her wands for sale and she had some of his wands for sale. This was for mutual promotion in new regions. Still, Ollivander wasn't particularly happy that a wand he hadn't created, had chosen Graham, but there was no denying that they were a perfect match when the wand reacted that way.

The wand, both core and wood, was great for transfiguration, which Graham was a genius at (I have to get my shit together and write a headcanon about Graham and transfiguration). Montague had learned this from Professor McGonagall, who had quickly noticed his great potential and deliberately asked about his wand characteristics to see if the wand that had chosen him also wanted to highlight the boy's Transfiguration abilities. Years later, when Graham had grown to be the best student McGonagall had taught, in conversation Montague mentioned the history of buying a wand, and McGonnagal merely nodded unsuprised.

Graham learned the other features of the wand, just like Adrian, in Charms class with Binns. His ego was greatly flattered when he read that he apparently knows who he is, is steadfast in his beliefs, and does not change under the influence of his surroundings. The wand was difficult to master and tenacious, but that was what made them fit together so well. Graham, stubborn and steadfast, was just the one who was able to master this wand and use it perfectly

Miles Bletchley - Veela hair core, black walnut wood

Miles's shopping at Ollivander's went fairly quickly. Ollivander offered him several wands, and Miles didn't know how he should feel to know that wand was the right one. However, as soon as he picked up this one, he felt that even a simple wave of this wand would be what he was looking for.

Already at Hogwarts, he himself went to Flitwick to ask if he knew about the characteristics of wands, because he had a few questions. Black Walnut is characterized by forcing the wizard to be honest with themself. It dramatically lost power when the owner lied to themself and was dishonest. This suited Miles, who was very boldly seeking himself and reaching for various forms of expression. In the 1990s, he openly painted his nails, used makeup, and wore women's clothes, he never restrained himself from expressing his opinion, he did not act more posh and polite than he was, he did not analyze what would benefit him. After learning about this feature of his wand from Flitwick, back in his 2nd year, he felt more motivated to be himself. He was a kid who had different visions of who he wanted to be but was afraid to try and experiment in fear of being judged by others. However, his own wand motivated him to seek himself and become who he is.

On the other hand, the hair of the veela could be capricious when the wand was not properly cared for and handled roughly and without respect. However, when treated well, in the hands of the right person, it was consistent and subtle, yet powerful. So yeah, Miles' wand was really demanding and high-maintenance

Also, I didnt reread it for correction, sorry. And life update. I worked in call center for 3 months (I would never manipulate someone into contract btw, I made everything crystal clear and none of my clients had any complains) and now I finally have some holidays, idk how it is in other countries but in Poland university year starts in October instead of September. So yeah, i'm going for short vacation now, then I will have to sort and buy and pack my things because im moving out of my family house to another city for uni

[smileyvillainarc]

James Dark Mark Part 2

James considered himself a pretty sane person - sure he made impulsive decisions but he always claimed responsibility and tried to sort out problems without doing something rash.

That however was not something he could say about this moment. His very actions were frankly the definition of insanity and he could literally hear Sirius’ voice screaming at him for his stupidity.

Despite all that he continued forwards, towards the edge of the wards of the Hogwarts grounds so that he could take this portkey without anyone noticing. Said portkey was something he had grabbed from Crabbe earlier that day after he had overhead them talking about it taking them to the Dark Lord’s manor - after all it wasn’t as though Crabbe was going to notice, the man was an imbecile.

It wasn’t long until he was dropped in a room of what he assumed was the Slytherin manor. The walls were covered in an ornate green wallpaper and the handles of the drawers were serpent heads. On the bed in front of him, there was a long black robe of concealment and a small mask - not the one of a typical Death Eater - but one he assumed was for new recruits. It was a simple fully white mask that whilst physically only covered half of the face - cast an illusion over the entirety - probably for the Dark Lord to remove during the ceremony.

James quickly changed into the robes, adding them on top of the pureblood attire that he had clothed himself with before leaving Hogwarts. He needed the Dark Lord to take him seriously after all.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door and James saw the Dark Lord. Ordinarily he would probably check the new recruit and properly dressed themselves and led them to the other recruits, but the second the Dark Lord recognised him, the door shut and he was forced to confront him.

With a swift motion, he got down on one knee and said “My Lord, I, Lord James Fleamont Potter , the new head of the Potter Family wish to form an alliance with you.”

James didn’t dare utter a word after that. He knew with the way that the Dark Lord was looking at him, that he didn’t expect him to say that - certainly not after the James having previously rejected the offer and certainly not after hearing that he had broken it off with Barty because of the Dark Mark.

Frankly James was expecting to get killed right there or at least end up a war prisoner although he would prefer the immediate death. Fortunately the Dark Lord was willing to indulge him today.

“My, my, Lord Potter.” he started off slowly as though he were a predator circling its prey, “ It sounds as though we’ve got some talking to do. After all, I was very sure that the last time I proposed you joining me you said that I was a ‘evil megalomaniac that deserved nothing short of endless suffering’.”

He paused once more before circling back around to James front and grabbing his chin and yanking off his mask and plunging into his mind using legilimency. James willed his barriers down as he allowed the Dark Lord to tear through his brain to peruse his memories since his parents death, his loneliness, the lack of trust in Dumbledore and turning down the order. The memories of his falling in love with Barty and working on very questionable spells together, the way that he was in love with Barty enough to do something as stupid as this.

The Dark Lord pulled himself out of James’ mind just as quickly as he entered.

“Whilst that was sufficient in convincing me that you no longer detest me - I still see no reason to let you join me. Alliances with houses as virtually useless and it’s not like you’ll be ceding your house to the Slytherin name once you die- so tell me why I should let you continue and not just kill you right here?”

James lifted his head and looked the Dark Lord in the eyes ready to give him and answer that he had prepared since his argument with Barty in the great hall, “I love Barty Crouch Jr.”

A weight lifted from his chest at the admission but he also knew that it wasn’t a sufficient answer so he continued, “I love Barty Crouch Jr. and you are his master. He would die for you and I would die for him. It’s that simple. You know there’s nothing in the world that would break his allegiance to you - you’re the father he never got because trust me I’ve tried. I didn’t want to see him suffer in a war. But he stands by your ideals and he’s ready to fight for them and i’ll stand right next to him.”

He could tell that it had struck something in the man in front of him - not completely trust but still an acceptance of the truth.

“Well Lord Potter, I suppose you’ve convinced me.” He drawled out.

The Dark Lord placed the mask back upon James’ face and moved back towards the door before calling another figure towards the door.

“If you survive through the trials Lord Potter I’m sure you’ll be a great asset to the Death Eaters. I do hope dear Bella doesn’t put you through too much trouble.”

James startled at that and looked up to see Bellatrix Lestrange removing her concealment mask and hood to face James - relishing in every look of discomfort James held.

“Isn’t this going to be fun Potter?”

Note: This is longer than I had intended to write but I had fun doing it!!! The next part is going to be the actually initiation with a little fighting and I might do a fourth part with Barty confronting James in person but we will see!!!

[omgkatsudonplease]

[Image Description: Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Harry have a conversation in the hallways at Hogwarts. They are all dressed in uniforms that are slightly more old-fashioned than the film ones, incorporating breeches, waistcoats, and gloves.]

Lord Harry Potter and the Cursed Cup, a fic by @omgkatsudonplease with banner art by the excellent @splashofcolour23

Hermione was looking put-out by the time they had finished scrubbing out their cauldrons. “It’s not the Chizpurfle’s fault that it’s drawn to magic,” she complained as they filed out of the classroom in search of lunch. “I mean, it’s like a magical scavenger, right? It’s got an ecological role just like maggots and worms do.” “Maggots and worms have got roles?” echoed Ron. “Well—yes! They’re supposed to help decompose dead things and bring their nutrients back into the soil! I imagine the Chizpurfle does the same to magical creatures!” Ron sighed. “They’re just parasites, Hermione. They eat up sources of magic and make them useless. Mum has to spray our wardstone with anti-Chizpurfle potion just to make sure the buggers don’t wreck the house.” Hermione made a face. “I just don’t like that we had to watch them getting eaten,” she said. “I bet Hagrid wouldn’t have had us killing Chizpurfles our first day back.” “That’s because Hagrid would have us studying whatever horrible new monster he’s bred over the summer,” said Ron. “Five Sickles that it breathes fire.” “Ten Sickles that it’s venomous,” added Harry. “What are we betting on?” asked Draco as he insinuated himself between Harry and Hermione. “The monstrous appendages on Hagrid’s new species,” said Ron at the same time that Hermione insisted, “Never you mind.” Immediately, Draco’s eyes lit up. “I’ll play. One Galleon that it’s got stingers.” “You’re all horrible,” declared Hermione, and shoved past the three of them towards the Great Hall. The Triwizard Tournament has come to Hogwarts. When Harry, Lord of the Honourable and Most Ancient House of Potter, is entered into it against his will, he and his friends must band together to help him survive the Tournament—and figure out why someone would want to enter him in the first place. Part Four of Heirs of Avalon, a Pureblood Culture deconstruction.

Read here on AO3!

[jishyucks]

Gloves & Dittany (Teaser) ‣ cyj

‣ pairing: slytherin!yeonjun x gryffindor!reader

‣ genre: fluff, hogwarts!au, idiots-to-lovers (on reader’s part), sorta slice-of-life

‣ teaser wc: 1.1k

‣ final wc: expected 11k+, currently 9k

‣ summary: ❝Sure, your heart might have skipped a beat or two because of Yeonjun, but it was just a momentary flutter, a reaction that didn't hold any significant meaning… Right?❞

↳ Alternatively, where Yeonjun’s flirtatious nature leaves you no choice but to doubt his evident feelings for you and, in turn, dismiss any emotions you may be developing for him

‣ warnings?: reader is just,,, confused all the time, prob poor attempts of 'flirting' bc idk how to flirt, side characters may potentially be more entertaining than the mains, otherwise nothing really!

‣an: first long yeonjun ficccc,, I'm excited! this has been sitting in my docs for so long too,,, the teaser might be a bit boring just cause i don't want to give it all away just yetttt—it's just an intro to the pair!

‣ tags: @flowerjun (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Over the years you've spent at Hogwarts, your love for Herbology has blossomed into a deep passion. Contrary to what your peers say about the class being boring and useless, you believe they couldn't be more wrong. Herbology is an underrated and misunderstood subject that offers unique elements not found in other classes.

At first glance, certain plants looked welcoming, but from what you’ve learned, the most attractive herbs can be the most deadliest. This could even work the other way around. Growth patterns of the plants can directly affect its magical properties, which explains why the professors created emphasis on the care for plants. 

Although Herbology looked like any other ordinary subject at Hogwarts, there were a lot more layers to its content. You suppose this was the reason why you grew to love the subject.

“What’s the difference between you and those flowers over there?”

Enter Choi Yeonjun. The main reason why advanced Herbology isn't the perfect class for you, and you mean that in the kindest way possible. Yeonjun is something else. While you hope to simply enjoy the class, he sees it as an opportunity to engage in endless conversation. You once joked with him that his voice could win a competition against a mandrake for being the most ear-piercing, but, surprisingly, he took no offense to this. 

To make matters worse, a significant portion of his chatter is dedicated to shamelessly flirting with you. Despite months of this routine, he always finds new ways to keep things interesting, and you have to admit, it's quite impressive.

It was strange how all this had even started. You and Yeonjun were only familiar with each other because he was childhood friends with your fellow house member, Changbin. But after an encounter with the pair at Hogsmeade, Yeonjun started becoming quite adamant about making his presence known to you. And regardless of his motives and advances, you’ve, since then, been choosing not to indulge in his actions.

If you were given a knut every time someone asked you why you never gave him a chance, you’d be rich. Hell, you’d be bathing in galleons if you did, because this was Choi Yeonjun we were talking about. The one and only Choi Yeonjun who could practically steal hearts without the use of some silly charm pulled straight out of a textbook. He was reasonably one of the most attractive guys in the entirety of Hogwarts and his personality was one to adore, so you weren’t surprised with the persistent interrogation of those interested in him.

Though every question was worded differently, each one becoming more and more creative than the last, you hit them with the same, lazy explanation that you knew never left them satisfied.

“I just don’t see him in that way.” 

Yeonjun stands by your side, hands comfortably nestled in gloves, which completely disregards Professor Longbottom's instructions that the gloves were not necessary for today's class. He looked ridiculous being the only one wearing the heavy-duty gloves. You hold back a laugh as your gaze follows his pointing finger, which leads you to a cluster of asphodels.

You look up at him, “One is an accessory to a deadly sleeping potion.” You’re cleaning up your area, making sure dirt is only where it was supposed to be. 

“Y/N, c’mon~” Yeonjun whines, “Just play along.”

“Okay,” you huff, “What is it?” 

Yeonjun stands quietly for a short moment, lips pressed together, “Now you made me forget what I was going to say, but it was something about you being pretty.” Yeonjun turns to put some pots away, leaving you unamused.

Although Yeonjun continues to make such advances, you admit that his playful personality was endearing. Just a few months ago, you regarded Yeonjun as nothing more than an annoyance, constantly looming around even when unwelcome, sort of like a wedgie. However, as time passed, you couldn't deny the odd bond that had formed between the two of you. 

Just recently, you had reluctantly admitted to yourself that he’s grown on you to the point where you realize that the day would feel incomplete without his babbling. On a good day, you might even consider him your friend.

When Yeonjun returns, he flashes you a smile, “Do you have any plans for the weekend? Maybe I can take you to Hogsmeade.” He bends down slightly and reaches out, “You have a bit of dirt on your nose.” You feel his finger graze your nose for a quick second before it’s back at his side. 

“I’m afraid I already do,” you hummed. Since the period has ended, you grab your belongings and take your leave. With no surprise, Yeonjun is trailing closely behind you. 

Yeonjun’s lips were moulded into some sort of pout, brows furrowed, “Maybe the week after?” 

“I have plans that week, too,” you say promptly, though you weren’t even entirely sure if you did, “Sorry, Yeonjun.” 

Yeonjun narrows his eyes at you but you don’t catch him doing so. Instead, you’re dead set on finding your best friend Yena by the courtyard. Before Yeonjun could let out a sigh, he takes a big step forward and spins so that he’s facing you. Yeonjun executes this with ease. He’s quick on his feet and the next thing you know you’re walking into his chest. 

“Don’t apologize.” Yeonjun grabs your wrist and swiftly pulls you to the edge of the hallway so you both aren't blocking the stream of students, “There’s always another week…” He pushes his lips towards one side of his face, eyes looking to the side. He was deep in thought, “Maybe you can come to the final game of the season? I know your house isn’t playing but it would be nice to have the support… I’ll even let you wear one of my extra uniforms… maybe some facepaint?” Yeonjun’s eyes light up at the thought. 

“Yeonjun,” you say sternly. 

“As a friend?” Yeonjun’s head is tilted to the side, brows knitting as he brings his lips into a pout, “Please?” His eyes pour into yours, making it hard for you to avoid his gaze. He’s waiting intently on a reply. 

“I’ll… think about it,” You stall. 

Yeonjun smiles, satisfied with your answer. Before he speaks up once again, he hears his name being called from across the hall. It was Wooyoung. 

“I’ll see you later, beautiful~” 

You groan and call out before you’re out of ear’s reach, “What did I tell you about pet names, Choi Yeonjun!” 

Yeonjun turns to acknowledge you, but instead of saying anything to excuse himself, he sends you a wink before reaching his friend. 

As expected.

°•. ✿ .•°

pls remember that this is a teaser and I'll be posting the full fic soon! thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[the-emeralds-incorrect]

Dark Arts rant, apperently?

I don’t know how this happened but here we go:

Dark Arts classification makes no fucking sense. It’s technically legal according to wiki?? But throughout the whole series we have the “good” characters be viciously against them. Knockturn Alley is a thing but people are scared to go there. Ministry can just raid Malfoy’s house and fine them for having Dark objects in there so it’s not really legal??

One of the most obvious examples of stigma: in the fifth book they just throw away every dark object they don’t like from Grimmauld. But they have to have an actual use because why the fuck would the Black family just store useless trash at their home. The house that they fucking lived in. This shit could be so fucking useful if they just took the time to learn how to use it. Guys you’re going into a war why are u throwing away potentially very lethal useful weapons

They’re classified as magic that can cause harm but Light spells cause harm all the same and are still taught at school. There’s also an entire subject called Defense Against the Dark Arts. The wiki says they’re divided into jinxes, hexes and curses so at Hogwarts they learn at least one Dark spell (the Knockback Jinx) if we’re going by that logic (tho I can be misunderstanding something)?? We know about the unforgivables, but tbh at least for Avada you could find a way to use it ethically, for example in hospitals. It’s painless death. There could be a consent form you can sign that if for example you’re in a vegetative state, or idk a coma for a set amount of time, or just in fucking misery waiting to die, you can do it painlessly. Idk about you but if I was in horrible pain with no chance of recovery I would prefer that

Also the whole “Dark Arts damage the soul/the only defense against them is love” thing Dumbledore is on is just. So much fucking propaganda. I’m not even getting into it

Now we’re going more into speculation territory, but imo Dark Arts are obviously an important part of wizarding culture, seeing how many old families practice it. They have to be at least stigmatized, and partially illegal, at least in terms of dark objects (would that include books?). We all know how dark creatures are treated, ie werewolves/Remus.

but also, like, I genuinely can not believe all dark arts is designed to harm people. why would generations upon generations of those same families devote their entire lives to that. again and again. Don’t they have better things to do?

The Ministry is against dark arts. Hogwarts is against dark arts. Old timey families value it and hold it to a pedestal.

I suspect there’s some form of government regulations. Like, let’s say you’re making a new spell. I don’t think spellcrafting is a job so you’re just a scholar. You create it, it works, you’re happy. How do you share it with people? Maybe you would like it to be taught at Hogwarts, because you think people would generally benefit from knowing it. But to add it to a school curriculum, you need to get it approved. The Ministry handles it. So you go and register the spell. There’s now a list of approved (light) magic tm

And that’s where I think the distinction comes from. If the Ministry approves it, it’s Light. If they don’t, because they consider it harmful, it’s dark and illegal. And it’s put on a list of illegal things, idk. You can be prosecuted if someone catches you casting it

So Dark Arts are the things, spells, potions, etc, which the Ministry disallows the use of. But it’s also all the things that didn’t even try to register themselves. All the magical innovations that went under the radar.

Of course, you still want to share your inventions with people (or you don’t so you keep it hidden and nobody ever knows about it but we’re not talking about these types of cases here). You publish a book, a paper, something. In secret, of course, because it’s illegal, since it’s not on the LightTM list.

And that’s how the old families learn this shit. It’s a secret book club except the books are self published by the members.

So of course, some of it is harmful. Magic tends to be. But some of it is just not approved, and you don’t question why. You just use it.

(Also, Ollivander has a secret deal with all of these families, that for additional galleons, he removes the trace from the kids’ wands. It’s been like that ever since the distinction between Light and Dark magic came to be. They have to keep the business afloat, am I right?)

[slytherwrites]

i’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies // i’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Summary: Abraxas Malfoy would do anything for Tom. Even this. Especially this.

Warning: There isn't any actial smut, but it's implied.

Rating: M

Characters: Abraxas Malfoy/Tom Riddle Jr

Abraxas has been taking cues from his friend for a while now, much to the dismay of his father, Gaius Malfoy. This time, this upcoming year, would be no different. After all, Abraxas figures that this is a reasonable request from his dearest friend—stay at Hogwarts with him for their last winter holidays together.

And even if it wasn’t as reasonable of a request… he’d do it anyways.

Abraxas couldn’t say him and Tom started out on a strong foot, with Tom’s blood status being questionable at best and Abraxas being bound by the rules of the House of Malfoy. But he proved himself and his ability to lead, finding equal footing with the help of the future Lady Black. Abraxas fell in line too, seeing potential in the boy who was able to garner the respect of a woman herald as better than they all were. And as he gained more followers and very few friends, Abraxas can say he struck gold by staying by Tom’s side.

And stay by his side he would. Outside of Hogwarts and the real world weren’t as important, now that Abraxas had clear duty and purpose from his dearest friend.

But they weren’t in the real world. They weren’t outside of Hogwarts. They were sitting in a room of their own design, with comforts imagined by their wildest dreams and a fire going in the middle, keeping it warm. Tom sat in a chair pursuing a book. Abraxas lounged on a fainting couch, barely keeping his head up as he stared at his friend through the flames.

“Boring holes into my skull, are you not, Abraxas?” Tom speaks, breaking the near silence of their own private oasis.

Abraxas gives him a soft smile, “Not intentionally, Tom.”

“You will not be allowed to call me that much longer, Abraxas.”

“You’ll still always be Tom to me.”

“Watch it, Malfoy.”

“Alright, alright.” Abraxas leans up, “What are you reading about?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He tells him, flipping to another page, “It is all things I already know of. The reading selection here is abysmal. Or, at least in the main library.”

“This isn’t from your secret library?” Abraxas teases.

Tom answers straight, “No.”

“Am I ever going to see it?”

“It is for Heirs of Slytherin only.” Tom answers honestly once again, “You know this.”

“I know.” Abraxas leans his head against the main arm of the couch, craning his neck, “I know.”

“Good.” Tom says, “The more you know of things like this, the better.”

Silence passes. Tom doesn’t say anything more on the matter, as if he knows that Abraxas will never truly contest anything he ever says. He’s well versed in this belief, as Abraxas would tell you the same thing himself.

Abraxas changes the subject, “Tomorrow is the end of the year.”

“Is it really tomorrow if it’s less than a quarter of an hour away?”

“If it isn’t tomorrow yet, then yes it is.” Abraxas affirms, “Tomorrow, that is. It is tomorrow, tomorrow.”

Tom doesn’t look up from his book, “Alright,” He concedes. This isn’t something he particularly cares about. Time and its useless definitions are something someone with a life so finite should worry about. But Tom has taken the first steps towards combating that. He doesn’t need to worry about something so trivial.

“It’s also your birthday tomorrow.” Abraxas notes, “Is there anything special that you’re doing for it.”

“Spending time with you.” Tom asks questions in response, even though he already knows what Abraxas will say to him in response, “Why? Did you have any other plans?”

“Oh.” Abraxas takes a moment to recollect himself, “No reason.”

Tom being frank like this wasn’t something Abraxas would bet on. He’s always been a man of few words—of mystery, of intrigue. This was new. This was unexpected.

“No reason, Abraxas?” Tom looks up from his book, folding in the page ever so slightly at its corner and setting it aside on a table beside his chair, before standing, walking past the fireplace and where he can get a clear view of Abraxas’ reddining face in the candlelight. He bends down at the waist, coming mere centimeters in front of Abraxas, “I think you have a reason to wish me good will, do you not?”

Abraxas clears his throat, “I just wish you will enjoy your eighteenth birthday, my dear friend. Isn’t that when you’re free of your muggle upbringing.”

“My muggle upbringing has never been something to be of concern.” Tom tells him, “Do not speak of it again.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.” Tom looks at Abraxas’ long, silvery hair. It and himself is illuminated by the warm candlelight, “You look ethereal, you know. Bathed in the soft yellow light of the candles. Nowhere near as harsh as Walburga or Minerva were.”

As Tom’s closest confidante, Abraxas knows how he used Walburga and Minerva. And if this conversation seems to go in the direction Abraxas is betting it will, he knows he’s quick to succumb to Tom’s needs like they did.

In all honesty, Abraxas was wondering why this took so long to transpire.

“I think I’ve been told that before.” Abraxas says softly, staring into Tom’s ever dark eyes, “Not by you, though.”

Tom’s lip quirks ever so slightly, smirking in a way most wouldn’t notice. But Abraxas wasn’t most. He knew Tom more so than he knew himself. His whole life seemed to surround the man.

“You look prettier than most girls like this.” Tom runs his hand through Abraxas’ silvery locks, curling the ends with his fingers, “Most would kill for your beauty.”

“Is that all I bring to the table?”

“No.” Tom tells him, “But it is all I need out of you in this moment.”

Looking back, Abraxas couldn’t remember who’s lips collided into who’s. Who made the first move. Tom, in a moment of unflinching dominance? Or Abraxas himself, in quick desperation?

Abraxas is getting pulled up to his feet, then is laid out over a bed that appears when Tom wills it. He is stripped of his clothes and he’s splayed out on the silky green sheets, contrasting nicely with the rich satin. 

Abraxas’ clothes are haphazardly on the floor while Tom takes his time slipping his Slytherin tie off and wrapping it around Abraxas’ pale wrists, pinning him above his head, stretching his body all lean and taut, showing off his thin skin and the bones that protrude from them.

Abraxas watches Tom as Tom watches him. He looks into the full-black eyes of the man he’s come to follow every word and whim of and doesn’t blink away.

“You have a view to enjoy, do you not, Abraxas?”

“I’ve always indulged myself in things like this.” Abraxas admits, his moonlight-pale skin reddening from what’s become of this night, “It’s one of life’s greatest pleasures to do so.”

“You know much of pleasures and indulgences, do you not, Abraxas?”

Abraxas smiles as Tom runs his spindly fingers across his skin, “I like to think I know much about a lot of stuff.”

“I do not indulge myself often.” Tom admits to him, “Everything I do has a purpose grander than doing something just because.”

Abraxas takes advantage of the pause in Tom’s thought, slipping into speech as Tom allows himself to take a moment and take Abraxas’ bare form all in, “Aren’t you not indulging in me, right now?”

“I am.” Tom admits to him, “This is wholly indulgent and I do not know what I gain from this, other than temporary pleasure.”

“Maybe that’s all you need.” Abraxas tells him, “Maybe that’s reason enough to do something you want to do.”

Tom smiles, “Maybe so.” 

Abraxas watches and Tom loses his outer robes and then his shirt, carefully discarding his clothes upon a pile on a previously not there end table. Abraxas’ own clothes lay on the floor, gathering dirt and dust, even though they are worth more than Tom’s will ever be.

Or, would ever be, if not for Abraxas vowing to bankroll every whim or will Tom asks of him.

Tom’s smile hasn’t faltered since he gave it to Abraxas. It’s a toothless thing, showing off his skin-pink, soft lips. One side is higher than the others and most would call this a smirk, but this is genuine. Abraxas believes—no, knows it so. It has to be that way.

Tom’s belt finally unbuckles. He does so without looking, staring Abraxas down his blue-grey eyes. Tom’s own dark brown eyes stare back at them and Abraxas swears there is a bit of a red gleam to it, as if blood has seeped into its wet-soil hue.

His pants and shoes follow soon after, being strung about neatly, able to still be pristine by the end of whatever this’ll be.

“Do you have any reservations about this, Abraxas?” Abraxas is sure Tom asked this of Walburga and Minerva and the other people he’s taken this way, but Abraxas knows that this is genuine concern. He admitted it himself—there is no other motive in this.

“I don’t.”

The night stretches long into the morning. Abraxas finds himself more connected to the boy whom he originally dismissed as an interesting, but worthless oddity—a muggleborn in the pit of vipers that hated him and the kind he hailed from. But as his reputation grew, Abraxas’ admiration and interest did so too. And as that grew, something more unconditional blossomed. 

Abraxas wouldn’t call it love. Neither of them would. Tom couldn’t love, a fact he found rather comforting within himself. Abraxas wouldn’t allow himself to admit that he’s fallen to a man who could never return what he truly needs in life.

But, for one night they were connected. For one night they were together. In body, mind, soul, spirit—Abraxas and Tom were one in all the ways that really mattered.

“Happy birthday, Tom.” Abraxas says, instead of whispering sweet nothings, “May it and your new year be just as bright.”

“Thank you, Abraxas.” He says in response, “Thank you.”

[giselsann]

Ominis in his first year at Hogwarts.

*Walks unsteadily towards his first class, and suddenly some Gryffindor bullies stand in his way. They almost trip him. These possibly two years older than him*

bully: look guys, this must be the youngest son of that ridiculous gaunt family, *scoffs as he leans in to look at the boy and shakes his head* you all think the big deal just because you're descendants of that horrible Slytherin.

It was clear that these Gryffindor were intimidating him, and in that he felt something bitter in his throat. He knew that sooner or later he would be in trouble thanks to the attitude of his brothers. Did you think he was the same?

Bullie 2: Your brother is a pig. You all are. They deserve the worst.

Ominis: no. I-I, I'm not like my brother * he answered, gathering all his courage * please leave me alone, or I'll be late for class.

*At that answer, the others just laughed*

Bullie: yes of course, the only thing that differentiates you from them is that you are a little, well, too useless. And I'm not saying that because you just got into Hogwarts. I say it because you are blind. I don't understand how they let children like that into this place. Listen to me well, you can never be a normal magician like us.

*Ominis cringed at those cruel words, and the hand that held his wand trembled. Because it was so hard for him to defend himself. This subject only managed to make him remember his life at home.

The words just wouldn't come out of his throat *

Bullie: are you scared gaunt? Oops, poor thing, he thought he wouldn't even be able to get to his common room anymore.

Ominis: Don't bother me! *Exclaimed the child,* you don't know anything about me. I have the same right to study here as much as you do.

* The group of friends stared at him with a mocking and complicit smile, and when they barely saw him move, they cast a spell that sent his wand flying. Ominis was alerted when this happened, terror seized his body and he immediately felt disoriented. Like when he still didn't have his wand. The difference is that at least I had memorized some places in his house. And here it was, well, it was barely his first day *

Bullie: it's a shame you need your wand to see * the annoying boy mocked as he watched his friend throw the wand as far as possible from him *

Ominis: give me back my wand! *Frustrated scream*

Bullie: is that an order? What a ridiculous laugh *he laughed louder and then pushed him, making him fall heavily to the ground.

*they kept laughing as they left and yelled at her from afar: good luck finding her useless blind! *

*ominis rubbed his sore arm and stayed on the ground for a while, he let out a loud sob. He couldn't just get his wand back from him, he hated to think of it, but it was true. He needed help *

*luckily for the boy, two of his Slytherin classmates were passing by and as soon as they saw him on the ground they approached worriedly*

Sebastian: hey, are you okay? * asked the one with brown hair and freckles.

*Ominis did not respond at the moment. He felt so ashamed, frustrated, sad. He didn't even feel like going to his first class anymore *

*Sebastián looked at her sister and this time she decided to speak*

Anne: We are Sebastian and Anne, from Slytherin. First year just like you. We saw you at the ceremony, but not in the common room.

Ominis: ngh, yes. Hello... *he said at last*

Sebastián: we headed to class. I suppose you are the same.

Ominis: yes, it did, until- *ominis stopped. Unsure to tell what those Gryffindor boys did to him,* I...lost my wand.

Anne: oh no, what happened?

Ominis: I just stumbled, *he lied,* it's just that I still haven't gotten used to these facilities.

Sebastián: and why don't you look for it and that's it? * Sebastian said, receiving a nudge from his sister, * Ouch! What's the matter?

Anne: Sebastian. He's blind, how am I supposed to look for her? *Said*

Sebastian: wait what? *Sebastián looked at him more attentively and realized that it was true,* ohhh, he had no idea. I'm sorry, it's just that he hadn't had the chance to get to know you well. And, you need the wand to guide you...

*Ominis nodded,* could you help me? Please.

Anne: Of course we'll help you! Don't worry. She can't be very far *the girl began to look all over the floor in search of the wand*

Sebastian: take my hand, that floor must be uncomfortable * Sebastian said, extending his arm and helping him find it *

*Ominis felt her hand and took it to later manage to stand up*

Ominis: thank you.

Sebastian: now, don't move from here while we look for your wand. The stairs are close, it could be dangerous, *she took care of him by touching his shoulder and then followed her sister*

*Ominis had no choice but to nod and wait. And after a few long minutes I hear them approaching*

Anne: we found it!

*Hearing that completely relieved the blind boy. Who sought to follow the girl's voice and felt how he was touching her hand and placing the wand in it. Now his mind managed to locate where he was standing. And although the image was not totally clear, he was glad to see those two figures in front of him*

Ominis: thank you very much guys *said*

Sebastian: It was nothing. But from now on, I think you should come to class with us. You know, so that the same thing doesn't happen again.

Anne: You're right. It could be complicated for you.

*Ominis did not want to be a burden to anyone. And his purpose was to become a stronger and more independent magician. However, perhaps that was a long way off, and for the moment, a little help would not hurt*.

Ominis: yes. I thought it would be the best. If it's not a bother of course *he hesitated embarrassed*

Sebastian: you're not! We are happy to help you, we are partners after all, and we will still have to spend many years in the same room. It will be better to get along.

*Ominis smiled slightly*

Anne: I thought we'd better hurry. Or we'll be late for class.

Ominis: oh yes, sorry to make you delay.

Sebastian: we're still on time! Come on! *suddenly grabbed his arm and began to walk quickly.

* Ominis was going to say that it wasn't necessary for him to take him like this, but he kept quiet and just let himself be carried away. For some reason, he felt that he would be more protected from now on by his new companions."

[satureja13]

This is the last part of ‘The Story of Jeb’ (two years ago, link leads to chrono)

After he ran away from the laboratory where he failed to rescue the kids that had been held captive there, Francine urged him to come back home. He did - reluctantly. (He was only 16 then and had nowhere else to go anyway...) He refused to live in the house together with the rest of the family, though and moved to the shed and put that bag on his had - he was so ashamed and felt so guilty. (It looks so different from how we know his room almost two years later. After he had met Ji Ho and Giga. So Ji Ho really brought back the light in Jeb’s life, like Jeb confessed to Ji Ho the other day at school.)

Minerva (Ms Coombes) and Francine knew that it was useless to tell him that his actions, as silly as they were, helped to rescue the kids (he never knew that it had been Jack and Giga). In his state he was in then, he might have thought they just tell this to him to make him feel better.

(You possibly experienced this yourself when trying to give advice to a friend - it’s useless until they are ready for it. Frustrating, right?) At the wall behind my psychiatrist’s reception desk is a writing: - change is a door that can only be opened from the inside -

And it was frustrating - the most for Francine. Being so powerful, and at the same time unable to help her grandchild, hit her hard. But she had faith and trusted in destiny, in life and in Jeb. Jeb has it’s own pace to deal with things and he will grow stronger and prosper once he resolved it.

My thoughts on this: I’m sure Frodo would never have thrown the ring into the fires of mount doom if the eagles had flewn him there in the beginning, because else he never had experienced the danger of the ring and why it needs to be destroyed. And Harry had never fought this eagerly for Hogwarts if he never experienced the hell at Dursleys. And Ji Ho had maybe never become a part of the boys life if Ms Coombes had forced them to live together at the Space Bar. (See chapter: -> ‘The Intruder’). Haha and(!) Giga had never grewn fond of that little annoying werewolf!  You’ll never know what the shit you are going through is good for in the end! Therefore some (wise or stupid) people say: I would go through it again - because it lead me here.

So they found together through their experiences and hardships and this glued them together. They just know that they can depend on each other and trust each other. TMI: In the beginning Ms Coombes allowed Ji Ho to sleep in the storage of the school until Jack and Vlad became suspicious and chased after him. While running away Ji Ho stumbled into Giga and he took him to the Space Bar :3

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