daisee writes?

Trading Soonyoung his essay for your textbook, you flip to the chapter on antidotes. “See,” you point to a paragraph on the second page, “one of Buckley’s Three Laws of Antidotes: The number of stirs must stay consistent when creating an antidote.”

Soonyoung grumbles, aggressively crossing out a paragraph and begins rewriting it below, his quill making angry scratching noises against the parchment.

For the past few nights, this has become the norm. Dinner with Soonyoung and Seungcheol, joined by Joshua and Jeonghan. Then, as a group, heading down to the library to get some work done. You can tell it’s not necessarily how Joshua and Jeonghan would like to spend their nights but, if there’s something you’ve learned about those two this past week, it’s that they seem to appease Seungcheol’s every whim.

Tonight, there’s a new addition. A gangly sixth year Gryffindor who introduces himself as Wonwoo Jeon. His glasses are comically thick, almost as thick as Raveena’s, and he hasn’t spoken a single word since he’s sat down next to Joshua.

An arm casually draped across the back of your chair, Seungcheol has abandoned his studying, opting to chat with his friends across the table instead.

Despite not actively touching you, it feels as though his arm is radiating the heat of a thousand suns against your back, pulling your focus away from Soonyoung’s essay like planets to the sun.

Soonyoung throws his quill down on the table, frustrated, “It’s getting late and my brain can’t function anymore. I’m calling it.” He lets out a defeated sigh, “You’ll have to help me finish later, Wallflower.”

“We should all probably get to bed.” Seungcheol looks pointedly at you, “Especially you. You need your rest for tomorrow.” He stands up, grabbing your bag off the floor, and slinging it over his shoulder, on top of his own. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Joshua’s eyes flit between you and Seungcheol, confused, “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”

You avoid everyone’s gaze as you stand up, rushing to grab your textbook off the table. Soonyoung’s probably got the same stupid smirk he had when you mentioned your date this morning. A quick glance proves you right, yet this time he’s added in the stupid wiggling of his eyebrows.

Joshua turns to Jeonghan, “What’s he talking about?” But Jeonghan shrugs, making an i-don’t-know-your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine face, shaking his head.

Seungcheol plucks the textbook out of your hands, slipping it into your bag, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m taking my girlfriend to Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

Jeonghan faux vomits at the word girlfriend and Joshua smacks him upside the head.

“Thanks,” you whisper under your breath, grabbing the rest of your things. Seungcheol definitely hears you because he smiles, eyes turning into half moon crescents.

When you go to grab your bag from Seungcheol, he dodges your hands. You scowl at him.

“Jeonghan, you can vomit all you want, but one of us has a date tomorrow, and it isn’t you,” says Seungcheol cheekily.

You try for your bag again, but damn Seungcheol and damn his Quidditch reflexes. He gracefully turns out of your reach.

“Come on, Princess—” your breath catches “—let’s get you to bed.” Seungcheol starts walking backwards, and has the audacity to wink at you, motioning his head to the library exit.

You clutch an inkwell tight in your hand, debating whether or not to launch it at Seungcheol’s head, when Jeonghan says, “You should go. Before Sir Head Boy here starts rattling off the negative impacts of not getting a full nights sleep.” Ironic. If there was anyone who got less sleep than you, it was Seungcheol.

“Goodnight Wallflower,” Soonyoung says behind you and you raise a hand to him without looking. You stalk past Seungcheol, but not before pushing your inkwell and quills into his chest.

Seungcheol drops them into your bag and scurries after you, trying to catch up to you in the dim corridor, “Slow down. Hey, Princess, slow down.”

You halt, whipping around to face Seungcheol, and it catches him off guard. He skids, putting his hands up as to not run into you.

“Why—” you hiss “—do you keep calling me that?”

The hallway’s deserted, but you still do your best to keep your voice down.

“What?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, “Princess?”

“Yes,” you spit out. “That.”

Seungcheol pushes his bottom lip out in a pout, cocking his head to one side, “If I’m the Prince of Hogwarts, wouldn’t that make you my Princess, Princess?”

His logic checks out, and you hated him for it. It made you want to rip all your hair out and scream. But that, would be a tad bit dramatic.

Seungcheol takes your silence as animosity and bends down to bring his face close in front of yours, intently locking his eyes with yours, “What would you rather I call you then, love?”

You want to look anywhere but at him, but his face is so damn close to yours. Defiantly, you jut your chin out, “My name, perhaps?”

He feigns thinking, straightening back up again, “Mm, no, I think Princess sounds better,” and shuffles around you to begin walking to your dormitories.

You roll your eyes and jog to catch up, walking alongside him. “Look, you don’t have to carry my things for me and walk me to my dorm every night. I’m perfectly capable of doing all these things myself.” You make one last futile attempt at grabbing your bag but Seungcheol swiftly shifts it to his other side, away from you. “I didn’t make it to my seventh year unable to do anything, you know.”

Seungcheol smiles to himself. “Never said you couldn’t, love,” he says softly.

“Stop calling me that,” you snarl. A quick look around the hallway finds it empty, “There’s no one even here, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t have to what? Be an adoring, loving boyfriend?”

“We’re not even dating!” You cry out.

“Shhp!” Seungcheol puts a finger to his lips, then points up. Following his finger, you look up at the portraits covering the tall walls all the way up until they disappear into the darkness above.

Ah, yes, the walls are always listening.

It takes everything in you to not stomp your feet in petulance, though there is still an underlying irritation in every step as you continue walking.

The two of you trudge your way up Ravenclaw tower, the spiral staircase feeling never ending tonight. At the top, Seungcheol reminds you, “As far as anyone’s concerned, we are dating. Don’t forget that.”

You open your mouth to argue but Seungcheol cuts you off, “I don’t want to hear it. You know I’m right.”

That he was. But you weren’t going to tell him that.

The bronze eagle knocker glints from the luminosity of the moonlight cascading through the high windows of the tower.

Seungcheol leans up against the wall by the door, “I don’t think you’re weak, or that you can’t help yourself. I’m doing this because, as your boyfriend, it brings me joy to do this.” Fake boyfriend, you want to correct him.

Your nose twitches and you knock the knocker a little harder than necessary.

The bronze eagle’s voice booms, “I can take decades to build but a day to destroy. What am I?”

Barely needed a moment to think, you answer, “Trust.” The door swings open and you turn to Seungcheol, “It brings you joy to do these things?”

Seungcheol grins, crossing his arms, “It does. You also get so angry, Princess. It’s cute.”

Cheeks burning, you shove him, yanking your bag away while he stumbles off the wall, stifling a laugh behind his fist.

“Sleep well, love. I’ll see you in the morning,” he calls out as you enter your common room. You slam the door without looking back, but you can still hear his giggles as the door closes shut.

Morning greets you like a chessboard to the face.

All throughout the night, you shifted in and out of consciousness. You couldn’t have had more than a couple of hours of steady sleep.

On your way to the bathroom, you tiptoe past a sleeping Mythili. She snores softly, half her body hanging off her bed, and you double back to push up her hanging limbs, tucking them in under her blanket. Mythili stirs for a second, then resumes snoring, curling an arm under her pillow.

In the bathroom, you almost can’t recognise the girl staring back at you in the mirror. Dark eye bags shade your under eyes and your skin is starting to take on an almost sickly pallor.

Last night was unkind to you, but so was the night before. As was the night before that. This was your new normal, you just had to get used to it. The sleepless nights are starting to take it’s toll though, and you’re beginning to look a little worse for wear.

You wash your face, and along with it, try to wash away any unfriendly thoughts clouding your mind.

No amount of scrubbing could wash one thought away though: what exactly was one supposed to wear on a date?

It feels childish. A Hogsmeade trip is nothing special. For years, you’ve been going on them with Soonyoung and Raveena, and never once did you put an ounce of thought into what you were going to wear.

The angel on your shoulder tells you to wear whatever you normally would. That Seungcheol wouldn’t care, this is all for show anyhow.

The devil, on the other hand, he had other thoughts. What if wearing your regular robes is unconvincing? What if it did matter to Seungcheol? What if he felt like you weren’t putting enough effort into this facade?

Soonyoung would probably have a separate collection of robes for dates alone. A selection of designer robes flicker through your mind and you shake your head to rid of the unhelpfulness.

Rummaging through your trunk, you finally decide on some dark charcoal grey robes. They’re less shabby than your navy ones, and you definitely did not want to show up in your school robes.

Mythili is still snoring when you’re done changing. Sunlight begins to stream brighter through the windows, and you pull the curtains shut around her bed before leaving.

When you arrive at the front hall, Seungcheol is nowhere to be found. You push one of the large entrance doors open, stepping out into the cold air, and into a flurry of white.

Snow.

Climbing down the snowy front steps, you reach a hand out. A snowflake lands on the tip of your finger, melting on contact. Your fingertips turn pink as the snowflakes melt one by one on your hand, a shiver running through you from the rush of cold.

“Morning, Princess,” a familiar voice whispers against your ear.

Your heart nearly stops and you whip around, cursing, “Galloping gargoyles! Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol’s bent over laughing, both arms wrapped around his waist, and eyes crinkled into two half moons. You shove him and he barely stumbles, still cackling.

“Need to get you a bloody bell around your neck,” you mutter. A gust of wind blows past, another shiver running through your back.

A scowl replaces Seungcheol’s cheery smile, “Why aren’t you wearing a jumper?” He’s got on thick dark navy robes and a striped Gryffindor scarf around his neck. “Didn’t you know it was snowing out?”

“Didn’t look out the window.” You wave an apathetic hand at him, “I’m fine.”

As you descend down the stairs, snow flurries into your face with a stronger gust of wind. Shoulders shake as another shiver vibrates through you and you sputter, brushing the snow out your face and hair.

Seungcheol harrumphs, coming to stand in front of you, one step below, bringing you two face-to-face. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he’s unwinding the scarf around his neck and wrapping it around yours.

“What are you—”

Seungcheol shushes you and your mouth clamps shut. He focuses on meticulously wrapping the scarf around your neck, fastening your robes closed over the bottom of the scarf.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m gonna let you come with me without keeping warm.” He pulls your hood over you head, careful not to touch your face while pushing your hair away, tucking it under the hood.

“Let me?” You glower down your nose at him.

“Sorry, sorry. Forgot you’re a big girl who does everything herself with no help at all,” he says in a patronizing tone as he fixes the scarf to make sure it’s completely covering your neck with no gaps. “That’s why you came out into the freezing cold without a jumper. Or a scarf.” For a second you think you hear wrong, but you swear he mutters idiot under his breath.

You open your mouth to argue but he lifts an eyebrow, as if daring you to say something. You shut your mouth quickly, teeth grinding in frustration as you lift your chin at him in silent defiance.

There’s always an air of both confidence and righteousness that seems to float around Seungcheol. It drove you mad, always putting you on the defense, countering your hesitance with all things concerning Seungcheol. A hesitance that you couldn’t push away, no matter how hard you tried to press past it.

And above all, you hated not having the last word.

Seungcheol pulls the collar of your robes up before smoothing them out. He turns to walk down the last few steps, then begins on the path to Hogsmeade, not getting very far before realizing you’re still frozen on the stone steps. “You coming or not?” He calls out, and you shake yourself out of your reverie, hurrying down the steps to the path to catch up.

The two of you walk side by side in silence. It’s a few minutes up the hill when Seungcheol clears his throat, “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

You stop in your tracks and it’s takes Seungcheol a few steps to notice you’re not next to him. He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You didn’t plan the date today?” You blurt out. In response, Seungcheol cocks his head to the side in puppy fashion.

“You’re the one who told me to come out with you—” you’re unable to stop the indignation from leaking into your voice, “—and you don’t even have anything planned?”

Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows again, lower lip jutting out in a pout, “You said you had errands to run, I thought that’s what we were doing?” His eyebrows shoot up and he points an accusatory finger at you, “You! You want to be taken out!” He widens his eyes and turns to point a finger at himself, “By me.”

“W-what?” You stammer. “I want no such thing, thank you very much. I—” You look anywhere but at Seungcheol and the smirk growing on his face. “I just don’t like my time wasted,” you wrap your arms around yourself. “Or liars. If you say you’re going to do something, I expect you to do it.” With that, you stomp past him, and he follows you with his eyes before jogging to catch up.

Seungcheol walks backwards, trying to catch your eyes, “Admit it, you were looking forward to our date today.” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s probably got on a smug smile, you can hear it in his voice. You plod along, the path to Hogsmeade feeling doubly longer than usual.

Seungcheol hums before turning back to walk in tandem with you, hands clasped behind his back. “Well, as your amazingly loving and adoring boyfriend, I have no set plans for today other than doing only whatever it is you would like to do, Princess.”

You’re glad for the snow and the scarf, allowing the red of your burning cheeks and ears to go unnoticed.

High street is bare this morning. There’s a gentle thrum of town locals, grabbing a coffee at the inn, picking up their post, running their weekend errands. Seems as though you and Seungcheol are the first few students to make your way up here.

“Where to first?” Seungcheol asks softly as the two of you stand in the town entrance.

Snow builds lightly on your shoulders as you think. There was no reason to push back any further on this. The date wasn’t happening, so you might as well buck up and take the opportunity to get your shopping list done.

Mentally going over the things you need, you land on your first stop. “Apothecary?” Your voice wavers with hesitation, but Seungcheol doesn’t contest.

“Lead the way.”

The Apothecary is a little shop at the end of the street. Squeezed between the post office and Gladrags, it’s a short wooden building, painted night black, with a thatched roof that seems to be caving in.

Seungcheol hesitates before following you in through the doorway, face filled with concern when the wooden door pops off its top hinge.

It’s dim inside, the tinted windows letting in the smallest ray of light. Except, upon closer look, the windows weren’t tinted at all. Instead, years of grime had built up on the glass pane, coating it the same jet black as the walls.

On the front window sill, sits a fluffy black kneazle. Its beady yellow eyes follow you as you crouch down to scratch the little monster behind the ear.

“Hiya Zeeks,” you coo. The kneazle swishes his pointed tail in response.

“Zeeks?” Seungcheol lifts a hand to tentatively pat the little guy’s head. The kneazle closes its eyes and purrs in return, stretching his neck out so Seungcheol can get under his chin.

“Short for Ezekiel. The owner keeps him around to catch the mice.” You stand up and motion to a thin, bald, and scraggly looking man at the front counter. A black eye patch covers his left eye, and when he smiles in your direction, a couple teeth are missing. “This way, the stuff I need is further in the back.”

Seungcheol grimaces as you lead him past jars of fish eyes, lizard tails, and things he couldn’t even begin to describe. There’s a fine layer of dust coating the shelves and he avoids touching them. “How often do you need new ingredients?” He eyes a jar filled with bezoars.

“Depends,” you say, grabbing two packets of dried poinsettia powder, turning them over in your hand. “I try to grab stuff when we have a Hogsmeade weekend but, I’ll order things by post if we don’t. If I’m experimenting with new potions, I need new ingredients more often.” You pick up a third packet of poinsettia powder and move on, walking down the aisle to a section with claws hanging from the ceiling. “Generally, I make big batches though, and they tend to keep for a while if you don’t open the stopper.”

Seungcheol hums, following you around the Apothecary like a puppy, watching, as you push aside a jar labelled ‘bat spleens’ to reach behind and grab one filled with a thick burnt orange coloured liquid . You turn the jar over in your hand, and Seungcheol’s able to read the label, salamander blood. He holds back a gag and follows as you eventually take your selection up to the front counter, making small talk with the owner as they ring you up.

Seungcheol is swift to grab your bag of things before you can and at this point you know better than to argue, letting him sling it over his head, hanging it across his chest.

“Where to next, Princess?” asks Seungcheol, as the two of you exit the store.

Your breath catches and you wheeze, trying to cough it off like it was nothing.

Taking a deep breath, making sure your voice doesn’t waver, you say “Scrivenshaft’s? Unless there was somewhere you wanted to go?” You bite your bottom lip, looking at Seungcheol.

His eyes flit down for just a moment, then he clears his throat, shaking his head, “No, nothing for me. Scrivenshaft’s it is.”

The street’s busier than before. With the sun further up in the sky, and the snow having decided to pause for a bit, more people have made it out of the woodwork.

“Sorry we’re just doing my boring errands today.” Students crowd the street, donning familiar scarves of maroon, blue, green, and yellow, and you two weave through them, making your way to Scrivenshaft’s.

“No, this is nice,” Seungcheol says firmly. “It’s far more interesting than what I’d normally do here in Hogsmeade.”

You side step a student, careful not to brush shoulders with them, “What is it you normally do?”

Seungcheol scrunches his nose, “Weasley’s shop? Three Broomsticks? Maybe Hog’s Head if we’re feeling extra mischievous?” He doesn’t notice you staring at him as he speaks.

The sporadic gusts of wind have made his hair go in every which direction, and he sniffles, using a hand to push his glasses up his nose, which, along with his cheeks, are rosy pink from the cold. You notice a little scar on his eyebrow, the faintest slit where his eyebrow hair never grew back in.

You’re about to ask him how he got it when a kid runs past, slamming into your shoulder on their way.

Flying sideways into Seungcheol, he immediately pulls you by the arm to his other side, out of the way, before a second kid racing past could run into you as well.

“Oi!” Seungcheol barks after them, “Watch where you’re going!” He turns back to you, and goes to put a hand on your shoulder, before curling it into a fist and awkwardly dropping it to his side.

“Are you okay?” Concern laces his words.

You lie straight through your teeth, “Yeah, I’m fine.” There’s a dull ache in your shoulder, your heart won’t stop racing, and you feel like you’re going to vomit.

Seungcheol looks unconvinced while you breathe through your nose, trying to steady your heart by counting backward from 10.

At 7, someone else bumps into your back, causing you to stumble into Seungcheol’s chest, top of your head knocking against his chin. Seungcheol curses angrily under his breath as his hand flies to your shoulder to steady you. When you look up at him, he’s got his eyebrows knitted in that signature furrow, and he asks softly, “You okay?”

You think you nod, but you’re not sure, your eyes going out of focus. What you do know is that the monster crawling through your stomach is making you feel sick and you want Seungcheol to just make it stop. Through your cloudy mind, you feel Seungcheol’s hand travel down to grasp yours. His hand is warm, gentle, and you can feel callouses on the pads of his palm.

Then, he’s leading you through the crowd, muttering to himself, “No sense of personal space.” His fingers lace with yours and he’s got a firm hold as he looks above the heads in the crowd, trying to find the best path through the crowd.

The crawling feeling still sits in the pit of your stomach. But now, it’s accompanied by another feeling. An unfamiliar one. Stomachache? No. Anxiety? Also no.

Comfort? Maybe.

You try to shake the feeling, and Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tightens, bringing you closer into his side.

The two of you make it to Scrivenshaft’s in one piece—surprising, since you’re sure Seungcheol’s laser eyes should’ve burned through someone —and Seungcheol opens the door, bell tinkling above, leading you both into warmth.

Inside, it’s as though you can breathe again. Seungcheol huffs and, as if only just now noticing he was holding your hand, quickly shakes it off.

His glasses fog up from the rise in temperature and he runs a hand through his hair, scrambling to apologize, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked. Didn’t mean to—I’m sorry. It’s just the crowd and you—who just runs like that? Without looking where they’re going?”

Seungcheol’s chest heaves up and down, he’s breathing so hard, rushing to get his words out. He wipes at his glasses with the edge of his sleeve.

You make an attempt to calm him down, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s fi—”

But Seungcheol is quick to interrupt, “I wasn’t thinking. But, there was just so many people.” His eyes are wide and erratic, you’ve never seen him like this before. “I would never, not without ask—”

“Seungcheol,” you place a hand on his arm. “Seungcheol, it’s fine. I’m okay. Thank you.”

This seems to give Seungcheol pause.

“I’m okay,” you repeat.

He swallows, choosing his next words carefully. Voice barely a whisper, he says, “You know I would never force you to—”

You squeeze his arm and he freezes, “Seungcheol, I know. It’s fine. It’s okay.”

You were not fine, and you definitely were not okay. Your heart felt as though it was going to pump straight out of your chest, there’s a buzzing in your head, and skipping breakfast? The best decision you’d made this morning with how your stomach was churning. However, none of that was because of Seungcheol.

Seungcheol. The way his eyebrows are drawn together in concern. The intent way he’s looking at you, like he wants to say something, but just doesn’t know how.

You don’t understand why he was even this upset. Not when even you weren’t that pressed about this. You knew what was wrong with you, you were used to this. What, was everyone supposed to automatically know and always move out of your way? That’s irrational. You might as well never leave your room at that point.

Out of nowhere, a burst of confidence, or insanity, courses though you, and you reach up to put a hand on his cheek. His cheeks are warm. Much warmer than your ice cold fingers.

Seungcheol puts his hand over yours, encapsulating it in his warmth, and you resist the urge to pull away.

He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. His eyebrows unfurl and you can feel his jaw unclench.

When he opens his eyes back up, you both drop your hands. Seungcheol looks a little sheepish now, the redness in his cheeks extending to his ears.

“Can I—” he mumbles something incoherent.

“What?”

He looks to your hand, rubbing the back of his neck, and whispers, barely audible, “Is it okay if I hold your hand?”

You don’t answer him. Not with your words at least. Instead, you silently take his hand in yours.

Again, you’d be lying if you said it felt good. It didn’t. But you wanted this. Not the feeling of the monster in your stomach trying to crawl its way up, or the dizzying way your mind clouds over. But to be able to hold Seungcheol’s hand. At least for the moment. At least, until it became unbearable.

The bell on the front door tinkles as someone walks through and Seungcheol pulls you into his chest, out of their way. A hand comes up to caress the back of your head and you look up at him.

“What was it you needed to get here?” Seungcheol’s voice is tender, and quiet enough that you’re sure only you can hear him. His face is so close that, if you were to rise up on your tiptoes, just a little bit, you could close the gap and kiss him. That is, if you wanted to. And if he did too. But neither of you do.

There’s a waver to your voice can’t stop when you answer him, “S-scrapbook material.”

He doesn’t comment on it though. “For scrap-booking?” He asks.

No, for playing Quidditch, you instantly want to bite back, but you don’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, you silently nod.

“Well then, lead the way Princess,” Seungcheol says softly, looking straight into your eyes. You nod.

Down the narrow aisles you go, hand still clasped around his. Somewhere past the bound journals, between the pens and coloured parchment, his fingers lace with yours, the warmth of his palm anchoring you past your unease.

You pick up some stamps with your free hand, turning them over to look at the rubber designs. Then, you move onto the coloured parchment where you struggle to sift through the pages. Seungcheol wordlessly grabs the stamps from your hand so you can browse through the papers better.

“So, you scrapbook. Got any other secret hobbies you want to tell me about,” Seungcheol asks. He leans against the shelf, some of the paper crinkling beneath his shoulder, lightly swinging your hands between the two of you.

“Not a secret. You never asked.” You rifle past the solid colours, making your way into the funky patterns. “And it’s not a hobby, just once a year for Christmas, as a gift to Soonyoung.”

He stops swinging your hands. “How come I don’t get a scrapbook?” He pouts.

“Because I’m already making Soonyoung one.” You pull him with you as you move on to the next aisle, not finding what you want in this one. “Besides, what would I even use? I don’t have any pictures of you outside of the ones for the paper.”

“But I’m your boyfriend,” Seungcheol whines, giving your arm a little tug. “How can you make some other guy a Christmas gift, but not me?” His cheeks puff up in annoyance.

You find a parchment set you like and try to shimmy your hand out of Seungcheol’s hold to pick it up. He doesn’t give up his iron grip though. You huff, “He’s not just some guy, Seungcheol, he’s my best friend.”

Seungcheol grumbles something you don’t fully catch, but it sounds a lot like “Yeah, but he’s not your boyfriend.”

Seungcheol is silent for the rest of your time in Scrivenshaft’s. It’s not a tense silence, but a comfortable one. He’s quiet as he dutifully carries your things to the counter. Quiet, as he holds your bag open for you to drop your purchases in, never once letting go of your other hand in the process.

Once outside, Seungcheol breaks his silence, “Where to next, Princess?”

You bite your lip, pondering. Seungcheol looks away, out into the sun. “Those were the only things I needed to do,” you say. Your errands were not extensive today.

“What about Honeydukes?” Seungcheol points down the street towards the sweet shop. “Do you need to restock your sweets?”

Your eyes follow Seungcheol’s finger morosely. You did need sugar quills, you were completely out, had been for a while now. But, you also needed to save coin, potion ingredients didn’t pay for themselves.

You shake your head, “No, I’m all set. If we go, I’ll just be tempted.” You can’t help the dejection in your voice.

Seungcheol’s where to next, princess? dauntingly echoes through your head. Where to next, indeed. Seungcheol may have said he’d go anywhere you wanted today, even seemed excited for it, but surely he wasn’t expecting to just be taken on errands?

You were boring. You’d also never had the task of taking someone on a date, not that this was one at this point.

The joke shop? No, you still hadn’t rid of the embarrassment from the last time you saw Seungcheol there. Besides, he said he goes there with his friends. You doubt he’d take a romantic partner there.

Shrieking shack? Seungcheol doesn’t strike you as the haunted house type.

Three broomsticks? You were already planning to meet Soonyoung there later this afternoon. No, you need something different.

Hogs head? If you’re being honest, that place gave you the creeps.

What you needed was some place students take each other on dates. A normal place. Somewhere preferably public, that other students would visit too. Somewhere everyone would see you, a place to incite the gossip train. A place that, if students were to see you, would immediately think ah, those two must be on a date.

It hits you. Of course. You know just the place.

The pink decor of Madam Pudifoot’s is still as vomit inducing as it was last time.

The two of you are seated at a small table in the center of the teashop. Seungcheol tries to awkwardly fit his thick legs under the tiny table, but he keeps bumping his knees into it. He looks on with caution at the walls covered in puce paint, side eyeing the rosewood pink curtains that hang ominously from the ceilings.

One of the waitstaff comes by to take your orders. “I’ll have a cup of tea please,” Seungcheol says. You try to be discreet and shake your head at him, but Seungcheol doesn’t take the hint.

When the waiter turns to you next, you pass on the tea. “I’ll take a coffee,” you say. This time, you know better.

“Any cream or sugar?”

“Both, please.” The waiter scribbles on their little notepad. “Can I also get a slice of cake, please?” You add on. Perhaps not the best thing for an empty stomach, but you desperately needed something sweet after the morning you’ve had.

“Absolutely. We’ll have that out soon.” They snap their fingers twice and a little cherub flies by, tossing golden confetti over you and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol looks like he’s about to cry as he shakes the confetti out of his hair and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

When the drinks arrive, Seungcheol takes a sip, and winces from the acrid taste. He clears his throat, “So, you, um, like coming to this place?”

“I guess you don’t know,” you say haughtily, “but this is the hip place to take your dates.” You take a sip of your own drink, and hold back the urge to spit it out. It has a bitter aftertaste, as though the coffee beans were burned.

Seungcheol quirks an eyebrow up, “Is it now?” He has an amused smile but you’re not finding anything funny.

The slice of cake you ordered is dry and lacks any sort of sweetness. Yet, you still shovel in a big bite, letting it stick to the top of your mouth as you chew, barring you from answering.

Seungcheol has all but abandoned his weak tea on the table. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s leaning back, watching as you down your bitter coffee to wash down the dry cake, hiding your gags in between. He shakes his wrist out, turning his watch to look at the time, “All done?”

Launching yourself over the table, you grab at Seungcheol’s wrist, tugging it towards you. Seungcheol’s caught off guard, swiftly putting out his other hand to brace himself against the table, trying not to faceplant into his cold tea. You turn his wrist over, so you can see the face of his watch. “We should get going, I told Soonyoung we’d meet him at the Three Broomsticks.” You drop his hand unceremoniously to the table with a thunk and get up to grab your robes and scarf off the back of the chair.

Seungcheol winces as he half falls onto the table, elbow barely missing his abandoned cup of tea. “We need to work on using your words, Princess,” he mutters, grabbing your bag from the ground and slinging it over his head

“What’s that?” You’re not looking at him, instead struggling with wrapping his scarf back around your neck, getting your hair stuck in between the layers.

Seungcheol comes around the table, planting himself in front of you. He swats your hands away and they fall, limp, to your side, as he unwraps the scarf and begins re-wrapping it properly.

“Next time, try Hey Seungcheol, what time is it?” He’s careful to make sure your hair doesn’t get caught, wrapping the scarf snug enough so you stay warm, but not so tight its suffocating. “Or maybe, Seungcheol, can I please take a look at your watch?” He pulls your robes closed over the end of the scarf, clasping the buckle, and smoothing his hands out over your shoulders. “Does that sound good to you?“

You swallow at nothing and bury your nose into his scarf, nodding shyly. Hints of grass and bergamot flood your senses, and as the two of you head outside into the cold, you can’t tell if your ears burn pink from the temperature, or from Seungcheol.

A flurry of snow has started up again, covering everything outside with a fresh new coat of white. It blows into your face with every gust of wind, and by the time you and Seungcheol make it to Three Broomsticks, you’re shivering to your bones.

“You head on inside, find Soonyoung,” Seungcheol says, “I need to go do something first.”

“Y-y-ou want me t-to come with you?” Your teeth chattering with every word.

“Don’t worry about me,” He opens the door to the pub and pushes you through. “Go on, warm up, I’ll be quick. Promise.” And with that, he shuts the door behind you.

The warmth of the pub immediately melts you, from your head down to your toes, and you go to find Soonyoung. He seated in the back, by the roaring fire, at a circle table with Raveena.

“Madam Wallflower!” booms Soonyoung as you approach them. “Nice of you to join us,” he says, tipping an invisible hat at you.

“As always, Sir Hoshi.” You tip your own nonexistent cap back while pulling out a chair across from them.

Soonyoung looks behind you, “Where’s the boyfriend?”

“Said he had something to do,” you shrug, “He’ll be here soon. What’re you two up to then?”

Raveena’s got a parchment on the table with scribbles of boxes all over. “The layout for the next issue.” She glares at Soonyoung, “Hoshi here thinks the front page should be Professor Hildred’s sacking.” Turning back to you, she says, “Please tell him that no one wants to hear about that old cod, and that it’s a page three at best.”

“He’d been stealing multiple paintings at the school undetected for years,Pudding,” Soonyoung throws out. “This is like, the story of the year.”

“Oh shut up.” Raveena points to you with her quill, “Wallflower and Golden Boy are closer to being story of the year than some old guy trying to make a quick coin. Speaking of—” Raveena flourishes her quill at you, “we’d still love to interview you two if you’ll let us.”

You lean over and snatch the quill out of Raveena’s hand, “In your dreams, Pudding.” You’d rather die than let yourself be interviewed for the Whistler, for your relationship of all things. “And put that away you two, before someone sees it. I’m going to go get something to drink, you two want anything?“

Raveena lets out an offended scoff before grabbing her quill back and shoving it, and the parchment, into her bag.

“Can you get me a butterbeer, Wallflower?“ Soonyoung rummages in his pocket and hands you a few sickles.

You salute, “Sure thing Boss.“

The hot chocolate you get warms you right up. Along with the hot, ever burning fireplace, you’re toasty and cozy, listening on as Raveena and Soonyoung chatter (and squabble) amongst themselves. One hot chocolate turns into two, then into three, till you’re indulging on your fourth.

“Boo,” someone whispers by your ear and you jump in your seat, nearly dropping your mug in your lap.

Seungcheol’s standing behind you, eyes crinkled into half moons, biting down a smile. He seems to be holding something behind his back.

“What the hell, Seungcheol,” you grumble, wiping your hands of the little bit of hot chocolate that had spilled.

“Aw, don’t be upset, Princess.” He grins, taking a seat next to you, “Look, I come bearing a gift.”

You perk up at the word gift, wiping at your lips with your sleeve, “A gift? For me?”

He brings a box out from behind his back, the gleam of silver instantly recognisable.

You dive for the box, “Sugar quills!” And Seungcheol lets it go with ease. He looks on endearingly as you examine it with awe, turning it over in your hands. “How did you kn—”

Seungcheol grabs the edge of your chair, pulling it close next to his, and you yelp, hugging the box tight against your chest. His face is mere centimeters from yours, but he’s not looking at you, he’s looking behind you. You turn to see Wonwoo walking up with two butterbeers in hand. He sets one down in front of Seungcheol and takes a seat on your other side. When you turn back around, Seungcheol’s face is still dangerously close to yours.

“Do you like it, Princess?“ Seungcheol whispers, draping an arm over the back of your chair.

You avoid his eyes, wrapping your arms tighter around the box, “How did you know I was out?” You had been out for weeks.

“You said so,” he doesn’t take his eyes away from yours, lips curling into a sweet smile, “last time.”

“Last time?”

Seungcheol cocks his head, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head. “When we were at Honeydukes. You said you needed sugar quills.”

He remembered that? “Thank you,” you breathe out and Seungcheol grins again, satisfied.

“Hey Wallflower, can I have one?” Soonyoung asks from across the table.

You frown and fiercely shake your head, “No, it’s for me,” turning away from him with the box. Raveena lets out a cackle as Soonyoung looks affronted.

“Here, I’ll put it away for you,” Seungcheol gently pries the box out of your tightly wrapped arms, sticking it inside your bag. He settles back into his seat, arm not leaving the back of your chair.

Your heart ticks up a little, slowly rising in bpm, and you pick up your mug, downing the warm hot chocolate in one chug, hoping to have it calm you down.

Seungcheol leans over and whispers, “Want another?” Any attempt at lowering your heartrate is quashed.

Your stare down at your empty mug, chewing your bottom lip. It’s not like its coffee, surely another couldn’t hurt. You nod shyly at Seungcheol and he breaks into the widest smile. Then he does the strangest thing. He softly bumps his head into yours, like a baby goat headbutting, before getting up.

You sink into your seat, letting half your face bury into your scarf. Embarrassment warms your cheeks, but one look around the table has you realising that not a single person is paying you two any attention.

Seungcheol comes back with a piping hot mug of hot chocolate, setting it down in front of you with a soft here you go, love, and taking a seat, arm going right back up to drape across the back of your chair.

The mug radiates warmth against your palms as you hold it between your hands. Seungcheol must’ve cozied up to Madam Rosemerta because there’s a massive dollop of whipped cream on top, more than you’ve ever received. You blow a steady puff of air, the whipped cream fluttering, and take a sip. The hot liquid scalds your tongue and you hiss at the burn, setting the mug down with a clatter.

Seungcheol brings his hand up against the back of your head, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, flustered. “It was just really hot.”

“Careful,” says Seungcheol, stroking at your hair with his thumb before resting his arm back on your chair. You simply nod, picking your mug back up to blow on it once more, hoping to cool it down enough to take another sip.

As the afternoon goes on, you find yourself sinking further and further into the warm scarf wrapped around your neck, and into Seungcheol’s side. You’re not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel warmth radiate off him. He also keeps buying you hot chocolates, filling you up with the warm liquid, making you feel cozy, and sleepy.

When you yawn for the tenth time in the span of minutes, Seungcheol decides to call it.

“I think we’re gonna head back to the castle,” he says, standing up and slinging your bag over his head, “It’s been a long day for us.”

He sticks a hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you up and out of your chair. You bid everyone your goodbyes, stifling another yawn behind your hand.

“Alright, come on sleepy head, lets get you to bed,” Seungcheol leads you outside, and you let him pull you along the path back to the castle.

He walks you up to your tower and, again, you don’t push back this time. You’re too content and full of hot chocolate to argue.

At the door of the Ravenclaw dorm, you start to take off Seungcheol’s scarf, but he stops you.

“Keep it,” he says, loosely winding it back around your neck.

You roll your eyes, “Seungcheol, I have scarves.”

“I don’t doubt you do. But keep it anyways. Wear it to my game next week.” He pauses for a moment. “You are coming right?”

Ah yes, the highly anticipated, for reasons unknown to you, Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match.

You push out your lower lip in a pout, “Do I have to go?” A hint of a whine slips through.

“Yes?” Seungcheol acts like you’ve asked him if can pumpkin’s can feel pain.

You refuse to let the stupid sport ruin your hot chocolate induced high, so you muster out a curt, “Fine. I’ll be there, I guess.”

“Okay, sound at least a little excited. I’m not forcing you to your execution,” says Seungcheol as he slips your bag over your head.

“Might as well be,” you mutter under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you straighten up, pulling on your bag strap. “Game. Next week. Wear the scarf. I’ll be there.” You throw up two unenthusiastic thumbs up as your eyes flutter shut for a second from drowsiness.

Seungcheol ruffles your hair, smiling and eye crinkling smile when you weakly swat him away with a glare. He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, “Alright, head in, get some rest.”

You hit the knocker and answer the riddle, opening up the door.

“And Princess?”

You turn to look at him, fighting back another yawn.

“I had a lot of fun today,” he says, adding softly, “Best date ever.”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, and mumble a quiet thanks, before hurrying through the door, shutting it behind you.

After the Hogsmeade trip, a unspoken barrier seems to have broken between you and Seungcheol.

Hands held fleetingly in the hallway.

The briefest of touches to the middle of your back when walking to class.

A head falling on your shoulder at lunch because Seungcheol just can’t stop laughing.

A leg pressed oh so lightly against yours under the library table.

You welcomed it, really. Every time, with every touch, it got harder and harder for the monster to crawl up out of your gut. Always with Seungcheol though. Only with Seungcheol.

There are moments, sometimes, when he’s not there, where you find yourself seeking his touch. Almost like you crave it. Missing the warmth with which his hands encapsulate yours, grounding you in way no one else ever has.

It feels absurd. Wrong, almost. But in the days leading up to the Quidditch game, you barely see Seungcheol outside of class, save for a few meals and some brief study sessions, and you hated it. Seungcheol had somehow become a constant in your daily routine, and when he’s not there you feel as though there’s an absence, a void that needed to be filled.

It was driving you mad.

Disappointment welcomes you with open arms the morning of the game. Soonyoung informs you that Seungcheol has already gone down to the pitch to prepare for today’s game. Raveena and Chan exchange a look when your face falls.

You’re wearing Seungcheol’s scarf, just like he told you to, and he’s not even here for you to show him.

“Supporting your boyfriend, eh?” Soonyoung says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up Hoshi,” you mutter, grabbing a piece of toast and spreading jam on it like it had personally offended you and you were seeking revenge against gluten. Messily shovelling it into your mouth in one go, you grab Soonyoung’s copy of today’s Daily Prophet. The crossword brings you comfort and solace, and as you solve through the clues, you feel your annoyance begin to ebb away.

Raveena waves a bottle of syrup at Chan, “Why’ve you got a camera Dino?”

One of your old cameras hangs around Chan’s neck as he chows down on some pancakes.

Raveena swings the bottle around to point at you, “Are you not taking photos today?”

You shake your head with a disgusted look, “Merlin, no.” If it weren’t for Seungcheol, you wouldn’t be stepping foot anywhere near the Quidditch pitch.

“I don’t get it,” Raveena squeezes so much syrup over her plate of scrambled eggs and toast that they begin swimming in it. Soonyoung pushes his plate away from hers as the syrup threatens to spill over. “What exactly is your issue with Quidditch.”

“No issue. Sports are just not my thing.” You spread a generous amount of jam on another slice of toast. “Say, what exactly is the big deal about today’s game? I keep hearing everyone say it’s really important but you people say that about every game.”

“Oh Wallflower,” Soonyoung lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in sorrow. You flick some jam at him and it lands on his cheek. He makes no move to wipe it off. “What’s the use of all that studying if you don’t even know the basics of the most important sport in the world.”

“If it’s sooo important, then why is it not more interesting. Hm? Someone want to explain that?” You look expectantly at your friends.

Soonyoung throws his hands in the air, letting his fork and knife drop to his plate with a clatter. “I can’t with her,” he says to Raveena and Chan across the table. “I can’t. Would somebody else like to do the honours? Dino perhaps?” Soonyoung motions to the young boy.

Chan freezes mid chew, then swallows before answering, “Uh, not really, no?”

Raveena rolls her eyes and explains in his steed, “We, Ravenclaw, already won our match against Slytherin. Our, Ravenclaw’s, next match is against Hufflepuff. You following so far Wallflower?”

“Sure.”

Raveena continues, “Today, Gryffindor, your boyfriend’s team, is playing Hufflepuff.”

Every time Soonyoung and Raveena refer to Seungcheol as your boyfriend, it sends a chill down your back. You hated lying to them, they’re your best friends, and you have to hold back the urge to correct them.

“If Gryffindor beats Hufflepuff, it means that we, Ravenclaw, can beat them. If we beat Hufflepuff, well then, they’ve got two losses under their belt going into the Slytherin game and the path to the cup is basically clear for us.”

Raveena might as well have been speaking Gobbledegook because you don’t think you understood any of that.

“Sorry, how does Gryffindor winning today mean that Ravenclaw will win our next one?” You refrain from sounding too skeptical.

“Becauff their tweam is hortheshite,” pipes up Chan, mouth full of pancake.

“Who raised you, mate? Don’t talk with you mouth full.” Raveena eyes Chan with revulsion. “What caveman here is trying to say is, they lost some big players this year. The team’s just not that good right now.”

You wanted to say you understood. Nod along, and say everything made perfect sense. But frankly, you were more confused than before.

Soonyoung lets out a frustrated huff, “Basically, if Gryffindor wins today, you guys are gonna win the whole thing.”

“But how do you know that? You’re not psychics. Witches and wizards or not, you can’t just magically know things.” This is why you didn’t bother with sports. No logic. No standards. Simply running on pure whimsy and vibes. Soonyoung shrugs in response, not offering you anything more.

The corridors are crowded as you all make your way down to the pitch. Droves of students are heading down as well, hoping to get a good seat. You do your best to side step the students, but there’s too many of them, and you can’t stop them from grazing your shoulder or bumping into your side.

By the time Raveena’s lead your group to the Ravenclaw section and you lot have found some empty seats, you’re already feeling a little sick. Wedged in between Raveena and Chan, you do your best to countdown yourself out of spiralling.

Jeonghan’s voice booms across the field, “Welcome to another Hogwarts Quidditch game. Today’s match, Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor!”

There’s a roar of applause as the two teams fly out and begin making circles around the pitch. Beside you, Chan and Raveena erupt into yells as players in red fly past.

While this wasn’t your first game, you hadn’t been to one in several years. You’d forgotten how small everyone looks on the pitch, and trying to pick out Seungcheol turns out to be much more difficult than you expected.

Gloomy clouds fill the skies as snow begins to lightly fall. Though you’d never admit it to Seungcheol, his scarf keeps you warm, and you bury your red nose into it, letting the smell of him flood your senses.

Raveena and Chan, bless their hearts, do their best to explain the game as it goes on.

“See those three?” Raveena points to the opposite side of the pitch, “They’re chasers, they try to get that big ball through those hoops. The one guarding the hoops? That’s a keeper, they try to stop the ball from going through.”

A few players by the far hoops are throwing a big red ball between themselves.

“Why do some of them have bats?” You blow on your hands, but your breath does absolutely nothing to warm them up, and you try rubbing them together to create some heat.

Chan leans over, “Those are beaters. They hit bludgers, the balls zooming around the field, at the opposing team.”

“They want to hit the other team?” One of the ones in yellow takes a hard swing at a bludger, sending it hurtling towards a player in red.

“Ooh, that’s a close one,” Jeonghan’s voice echoes through the stadium, “Chaser Seokmin Lee, dodges a nasty bludger from Riley Macint—and Elias Bucket gets a Quaffle in.” His voice slides into a deadpan, “That’s 10 points to Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff leads, 40 to 0.”

“See that one over there?” Chan points and you squint trying to follow his finger, “The one in red holding a bat? That’s your boyfriend.” You spot him, barely. He’s brandishing his bat around, yelling something that you’re too far away to decipher. If he wasn’t wearing a cap and goggles, you’d bet 10 galleons his eyebrows are intensely furrowed right now.

“Seungcheol is a beater?” There’s a gasp from the crowd as a Hufflepuff hits another bludger at Seokmin, and this time it makes full contact with his broom, sending him corkscrewing through the air.

“He was originally a chaser, and a really good one at that,” says Raveena. “But Gryffindor lost both their beaters this year and couldn’t find a second one during tryouts. Your boyfriend decided to give up his chaser position and fill in as a beater instead.”

“You don’t understand, Wallflower,” Chan cuts in. “It really rattled everything. He was such a good chaser, the best one in your year. He could’ve tried getting scouted if he wanted to. And with Mingyu and Seokmin? Those three were unstoppable. They might’ve had a chance to carry the team to the Quidditch Cup if they played together this year.”

“Why wouldn’t he just put someone else in as beater?” It made absolutely no sense to you. “If he was so good, why give up his position like that?”

“Guess he felt it was easier to train another chaser? No one knows, really,” Raveena shrugs.

“Well, how are they doing now?” You gesture to the field.

Jeonghan’s voice echoes over the pitch again, devoid of any emotion, “And that’s another goal from Bucket, Hufflepuff leads, 50-0.”

Boos erupt from the audience around you and Raveena groans, “Not well Wallflower, not well.”

You try to follow Jeonghan’s commentary along with what’s happening on the pitch, but the snow is coming down harder, making it more difficult to see what’s going on. Also, truth be told, you still really don’t understand how Quidditch works.

You’ve clearly missed something as the crowd on the other side of the field goes wild, roaring in cheers. “What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“Hufflepuff’s seeker just caught the snitch, Gryffindor just lost,” Chan says glumly. He clicks his camera to take some final snaps of the Hufflepuff team members circling the pitch.

Further down below, the Gryffindor team players touch down on the ground. You try to single out Seungcheol in the lot but, from this far away, everyone looks like little red ants.

The other students in your section begin to file down and out of the stands. You and your friends follow behind them as the crowd quietly begins their way back to the castle, shoulders downturned, devoid of any cheer.

Once inside the castle, you turn to your friends, “You lot go on ahead, I’m going to go find Seungcheol.”

They all nod in understanding and you head in the opposite direction, down the corridor towards the changing rooms.

You weren’t as familiar with this part of the castle. With your hands clean of anything concerning Quidditch, there was never any reason for you to be by the locker rooms. Perhaps, on occasion, if you were tailing someone from a team, or if someone you were tailing was hooking up with someone on a team. Point is, it was a rarity for you to be in this part of the castle.

It feels as though you’re lost, as you travel down corridors that seem to be heading nowhere of use. However, you’re positive you’re heading in the right direction. You may not be here much, but you know Hogwarts castle like the back of your hand.

Eventually, you come to a series of four wooden doors, etched with a winged circle and two bats behind it like an X. You find the one with a roaring lion insignia above the door handle, and are debating whether or not to knock first, when the door opens and Seokmin walks out.

He’s startled to see you there, your hand raised in a fist, ready to knock. “Hi,” he looks behind himself, then back at you, “You here for Captain?”

You nod, “Is he in there?”

Seokmin purses his lips, “This . . . is probably not the best time. Maybe you should come find him later?”

Your forehead wrinkles in confusion, “Later?” Seokmin was trying to ward you off, but why, you didn’t understand.

He puts up zero fight, “Your funeral, I guess.” And, though not looking too happy about it, holds the door open for you and motions his head inside, “I think he’s trying to drown himself in the shower.”

Inside, there are a few tables and benches, set up almost like a mini classroom, with a chalkboard in front. Brooms line the wall on one side, and on the other, an open doorway with no door.

You tentatively walk through to find yourself in the changing room. There are more benches, this time lower to the ground, scattered through the center of the room and kits stuffed into cubbies that line the walls around. A lone pink bottle of Ginevra Suds A Lot looks like it’s rolled across the floor, abandoned under one of the benches.

Through another doorless doorway, you can hear the sound of a shower running, steam billowing out. Eyeing the small stack of fresh clothes on one of the benches, you decide it’s best to wait for Seungcheol in the team room.

You take a seat on one of the benches. Someone carved GRYFFINDOR RULES, RAVENCLAW DROOLS into the wood of the table, and you smooth a finger over each letter.

The sound of the shower stops and metal ringlets clash against a wooden rod as a shower curtain is drawn. There’s silence, some shuffling, then Seungcheol walks in through the doorway into the team room.

He’d changed out of his quidditch kit, and into a comfortable grey hooded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. His hair, freshly washed, is sopping wet and drips water droplets onto his hoodie, leaving dark grey spots wherever they land. In his hand, he holds his (you’re assuming it’s his?) broom.

Seungcheol freezes when he spots you. “Oh,” his voice is uncharacteristically flat, “You’re here.”

“Hi.” You lift a hand up in an awkward wave, letting it drop limply into your lap when Seungcheol’s face stays stoic. “Yeah, I came to the game.” Seungcheol doesn’t respond, silently walking over to the wall to lock his broom in. “Go Gryffindors,” you cheer lamely, shaking up the end of his scarf like a pom-pom.

“Great,” he says brusquely. “That’s just great.”

“Are you okay Seungcheol?” you furrow your eyebrows in concern. This was entirely unlike him.

He won’t even look at you when he answers. “I’m fine,” he bites out. “Fantastic.”

“Well, you don’t seem fine.” You’re confused. Utterly and unbelievably confused.

“Wow, I wonder why.” He turns just enough for you to see him roll his eyes. “Look, I was kind of hoping to be alone right now. Why are you even here?”

You’re aghast, voice rising, “Why am I even here?”

Seungcheol doesn’t wait for you to continue, abruptly walking out through the main door.

You follow him out into the deserted corridor. “You’re the one that asked me to come!” You spit out. You’d even worn his stupid dumb fucking scarf, just like he’d asked. “I didn’t even want to be here!” Your shriek turns into a cough and Seungcheol turns around just in time to see you start hacking into your elbow. Sitting outside in the snow for so long did not do great things for your throat.

Seungcheol stalls, a wave of concern washing over his face. He looks as though he wants to say something, maybe reach a hand out, but in a flash it’s gone, his face flat once more, and he’s left wearing a vacant expression.

There’s no warmth in his eyes when he says, “Yeah? Then maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

You don’t know why he was being so cruel, and you take a step towards him, “Seungcheol—”

He takes an uneven step back. “Why are you still here? I don’t want you here,” he says, contemptuous.

At his harsh words, tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “Because I’m—” You’re what? His girlfriend?

You’re not his girlfriend. And this isn’t real.

“Because I wanted to support my friend. But he’s being a fucking dick.” With that, you turn on your foot, leaving Seungcheol alone in the corridor.

You wipe at the stray tears escaping down your cheek. If none of this is real, why do you feel an ache in your chest?

Maturity has never been your strong suit.

Once, in your third year, Soonyoung put a frog from Transfiguration class in your school bag, as a joke. In return, you poured frogs blood all over his brand new Gobstones set.

Last year, Chan broke your camera, the once you specifically told him to never touch or you would curse his fingers off. You wouldn’t speak to him for three whole days.

When Raveena ate the last of your sugar quills in the newsroom (they were in a charmed drawer marked DO NOT TOUCH), you stopped coming to the newsroom for almost a month.

As far as you were concerned, Maturity was one class you were never going to pass.

You begin to avoid Seungcheol for the next few days. Which, by the way, is hard because the boy’s in every one of your damn classes. But, you did what a Wallflower does best, you meld yourself into the background, the metaphorical walls so to speak, and disappear like a shadow.

Seungcheol does try to catch your attention, once, after a History of Magic class.

It played out almost comically anticlimactic.

In all your classes, you have been finding a seat as far away from Seungcheol as possible. Easy in classes with Soonyoung, as you and Seungcheol wouldn’t sit together in those. Harder in others, as the two of you had started to share tables ever since your deal.

This particular period of Binns’ class is no different. You find a seat, alone, and a mere row from the door, perfect for an easy exit. On the other hand, Seungcheol is seated rows ahead of you, at the front of the class.

When the bell rings, Seungcheol quickly gets up, making his way through the rows to the back of the class. Through to you. You’re too quick for him though, already having had your things put away, slinging your bag over your head, and racing out the door, into the crowd of students.

Once in the hallway, you knew you shouldn’t, but you can’t help but glance behind you to see if Seungcheol’s following. You see him come out of the classroom in a frazzled frenzy, frantically looking around until he finds and locks eyes with you. Determined, he pushes up his glasses and makes his way to you through the sea of students.

But you, you know how to blend into a crowd, and soon enough, you’ve put so many students between you and him that, by the time he wades through all of them and comes out the other side, you’re long gone.

For the past week, your dark room has been your source of comfort. You’ve been holing up in there so that no one (read: seungcheol) could find you. There’s a large backlog of film for you to develop though, and it serves as a good distraction. Besides, this is where you used to live. Before any of this. Before Seungcheol. In the past, if you weren’t in class, you were out taking photos, and if you weren’t taking photos, you were in here, developing them.

You prefer this, anyhow. Whispers are starting to travel amongst the students, as it quickly tends to around Hogwarts. The way people watch you in the hallways, staring, then ducking their head to whisper with their friends when you catch their eye. You know they’re talking about you and Seungcheol.

Courtesy of Soonyoung, you’ve been also taking your meals in the newsroom. With print day for the next issue looming closer, he doesn’t question it, just brings in food from the great hall twice a day.

Today, the newsroom is a full house. Soonyoung’s called in a meeting to get prepared for print day, and every member of the paper is present.

“As you all are aware, we are a little under two weeks away from the next issue.” Soonyoung and you are sitting up on a table, legs dangling off the ground. The rest of the team have pulled up chairs in front of you, like an audience. “What’s everyone working on? And anything I or Wallflower can do to help?”

Your team writes well under the pressure of a deadline, but Soonyoung still likes to know what to expect for the upcoming paper spread. He likes to be as prepared as possible.

Soonyoung looks around the team and points to Eunchae, a spunky little witch in the very front, “How about we start with you, Cactus.”

Eunchae chews obnoxiously on some droobles gum, making a smacking noise when her lips touch with a pop. “I’m working on an article about someone switching out the soap in the prefects bathroom with muggle laundry detergent.”

“Okay, good. Hoshi likes that one,” Soonyoung says, noting it down on his parchment. “Alright, who’s next?”

Chan meekly raises his hand.

Soonyoung points his quill at the boy, “Go on Dino, what’ve you got?”

“I’m working on tracking down all the paintings Professor Hildred stole.” Chan looks down at his notes, “What they are, how much they’re worth, and, if possible, how much he sold them for. My father works at the Ministry so I may be able to get some information out of him.”

“Great,” Soonyoung says, “love it. Pudding? How about you go next.”

Raveena sits up, pushing her coke bottle glasses up her nose. She’s seated between Chan and Eunchae. “I am working on an article for the gossip column.”

Both you and Soonyoung perk up. She hadn’t mentioned any lead she’s been working on. You’re typically the one to sneak photos for this, so you’re doubly confused. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, you’re worried by what she’s about to say.

“I hear,” starts Raveena, “that the Hogwarts’ It Couple is currently on the rocks.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders drop and you hold your breath. “Who’s the It Couple?” He asks warily, but he, and everyone else in the room, already know the answer.

“Our own Wallflower and Head Boy Seungcheol Choi.”

Despite anticipating this, your blood runs cold.

As if the ice cold dagger Raveena has stabbed into your back wasn’t enough, she pushes it deeper in when she asks, “Will you go on the record about it? I’ll take a quote from you or Golden Boy, I’m not picky.”

Everyone is staring at you, waiting for you to respond.

“No,” you say curtly. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong between me and Seungcheol a-and—” you falter. Except that there was something wrong, and you might just be making a fool of yourself right now. You clear your throat, “There is absolutely nothing on the rocks about me and Seungcheol.”

Raveena has never been one to let a loose thread go though. She likes to pull at it and pull at it, until it’s completely unraveled, and there’s no thread left at the end.

“People are saying that, since Seungcheol lost the Quidditch game, you no longer want to be seen in public with him.” Raveena presses on, “They’re saying you two haven’t been seen together or on speaking terms in the days since the game.”

“That’s preposterous!” You laugh, but there’s no mirth. “All over a stupid game?”

“So you think Quidditch is stupid.” Raveena starts writing on her parchment.

“Stop writing that down, that’s is not me going on the record. And I would never stop speaking to Seungcheol just because of some game!”

Raveena pauses her quill, “So there’s another reason you’ve stopped speaking to Seungcheol.”

“We haven’t stopped talking!” You shriek. “You know that’s not true.” Liar. You were lying straight through your teeth.

“I actually don’t know anything of the sort. Again,” says Raveena, “are you going on record with this?”

“You can’t write about us,” you hiss out, aware of the eyes of every single person at the paper on you.

Raveena scoffs, “What do you mean we can’t write about you guys. What, you think you’re above the paper?” She’s standing now, hand on her hip, quill pointed accusingly at you. “If you won’t give a comment, fine. But don’t forget that the first article that started this paper was about you.”

You’re frozen as Raveena digs her ice dagger deeper into your back, until its sticking out of your chest.

“So maybe don’t look down on us when some of us are trying to do our bloody jobs,” Raveena snaps.

Before you could retort, and before things could get any more heated with either of you saying something you’d regret, Soonyoung interjects, hopping off the table and placing himself in front of you. “Alright everyone, let’s get back to work. I want you to give me your article outlines before you leave today.” It’s rare for the team to not listen to Soonyoung, and without contesting, everyone starts to get up, including Raveena, taking their chairs away and getting back to work.

Soonyoung turns around to face you, lips pursed, looking troubled. You don’t say anything, hopping off the table and heading into your dark room.

Soonyoung follows right behind you, catching the door when you try to slam it closed, and slipping inside the room, closing the door softly behind himself.

“Wallflower, what in gobby stones is going on with you today?”

You respond with silence, the only sound being that of the shelves and drawers you were banging around.

“Are you and Seungcheol okay? Did something happen?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, not you too.” You slam a shelf door hard enough for the entire wooden case to rattle. “We’re fine,” you bite out, “Just because we’re not attached to each other’s arse like every other couple at this school doesn’t automatically mean that something’s wrong.”

Soonyoung puts his hands up, “I’m not saying that. I’m just worried.” He chews his bottom lip, choosing his next words carefully, “Look, I haven’t asked, because you said you’d tell me if something was ever wrong.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “What are you getting at?”

Soonyoung gulps, but continues, “I’ve been bringing you your meals with no questions asked, and I’ll continue to do so. But if something’s going on, I want to know what it is.” Then quieter, in a whisper, he says, “I won’t let you shut me out, Wallflower. Not like last time. Not again.”

You swallow. It wasn’t something you liked to think about, but Soonyoung did have good reason to think that you were shutting him out again like 4th year.

In some ways, you already had, in not coming clean about the fake dating from the start. Hiding something this huge from him felt awful, a sinking feeling in your gut. A part of you wonders if now is a good moment to open Pandora’s box and tell him the truth.

“Seungcheol and I had an argument,” you start slowly. “It was after the game. But it was small, inconsequential. Since the game, we’ve both been really busy and he felt like his head duties weren’t getting completed and I felt like I was slacking at the paper, so we’re just trying to catch up. It’s left little time to spend with each other, that’s all.”

“And that’s all?” Soonyoung doesn’t look convinced.

“That’s all it is,” you say firmly.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say, irritably.

Soonyoung huffs, “Wallflower, have you ever thought of, and humour me for a moment here, talking to him about it?”

You scoff, “About what exactly?”

“See!” Soonyoung motions his hands at you, “You’re lashing out. You lashed out at Pudding, and now you’re trying to bite my head off next.”

You grit your teeth, “Get to the point, Hosh.”

“I think that whatever your little argument was about, you’re still upset about it.”

You face away from him, not responding. Your hands grip the edge of the table in front of you, knuckles turning white.

“Seriously Wallflower, whatever it is, you can’t avoid him forever. He’s your boyfriend, you have to face him eventually.”

You purse your lips, “I’ll think about it, okay? Does that satisfy you, Sir Hoshi?”

“For now.”

You roll your eyes, “Come here, help me with this set. These photo’s aren’t going to develop themselves.”

It’s been days since your talk with Soonyoung. You hadn’t made any move on his suggestion, but it lingered in the back of your mind every time you saw Seungcheol in class. As usual, you spend all your time outside of class in your dark room. Print day is a mere two days away, and most of your nights are spent in there instead of your bed.

Which is how Wonwoo find you this evening, as you’re leaving your dark room, locking the newsroom door behind you and charming it away.

He’s panting and out of breath, like he’d been running. And you think you spot a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head.

“Where the hell have you been. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak, and he sounds angry, like there should be steam coming out his ears.

“I’ve just been around.” You look up and down the hallway, but there’s no one there (and definitely no Seugncheol). “What’s going on, is something wrong?”

“Seungcheol’s in the infirmary,” he spits out and your mind goes blank.

Wonwoo begins walking, heading in the direction of the infirmary.

“What? Why?” Your legs follow after him on their own accord. “Did something happen? Is he okay?” Your questions come out in rapid succession.

Wonwoo and you both set into a light jog, and you struggle to keep up with his long legs. “No idea what’s wrong, we were having Quidditch team meeting and he just, suddenly collapsed.”

You startle while pushing the infirmary doors open and they close up again. “You’re on the Quidditch team?”

Wonwoo freezes, a questioning look on his face, “Yes? I’m their seeker.”

You shake your head and push all the way through the doors this time, stalking into the infirmary. It’s quiet, and there’s no sign of other students or Madame Pomferey.

“He’s probably overworked himself,” you grumble as you walk down the row of cots, “I knew this would happen.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything to stop it?”

“Me?” You whip around to exclaim, “And what exactly could I have done.”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“Yes, exactly. I’m his girlfriend, not his mother.” Additionally, you mutter, “Also have you tried getting that boy to do something he doesn’t want to.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, “Well, I also know you haven’t talked to him in weeks.”

This catches you off guard. “How do you know that?”

“Who doesn’t?” Wonwoo pushes his glasses up his nose. “Anyone with eyes can see it.” He gives you a look, “He also might’ve told me you’ve been avoiding him.”

“Yes, well,” you don’t meet Wonwoo’s gaze and and make your way to where you see Seungcheol, at the end of the row of beds, “That’s none of your business.”

“He wanted to apologize, you know, for how he spoke to you after the game.”

Seungcheol is asleep. Or at least, he looks like he is. His face is pale, almost grey. According to Wonwoo, Pomfrey gave him something that knocked him out into a deep sleep.

“Captain’s got a lot on his mind,” Wonwoo says, “Quidditch means a lot to him. Losing that badly? He takes all the responsibility on himself.”

“But there’s like ten other people on that team!” You try to keep you voice down, hissing a whisper, “Surely he can’t think the loss was all his fault?”

“Sounds stupid to us, but he’s the captain. To him, if he did better, then the team would’ve done better.” Wonwoo sighs, “Look, Captain . . . he’s just always been like that. Tends to take all responsibility for most things. How do you think he became Head Boy?”

You pull up a chair, taking a seat next to Seungcheol. To see his face devoid of any emotion, so still and flat, it was unsettling. It also brought you back to the last time you spoke to him, his face looked the same then.

“I don’t think he’s been sleeping much this week,” says Wonwoo. “Not that he slept much to begin with but,” Wonwoo looks at you, “he got better you know, when he started dating you. We all saw it. We think he might’ve actually started sleeping through the night again.”

Wonwoo chuckles, “He’d been going easier on us during practice too, until the game that is.”

You take one of Seungcheol’s hands into you own. It’s cold. So unlike him, to be this cold.

“He really thinks he messed it all up with you,” Wonwoo says in a hushed tone.

“What? Wonwoo, what are you talking about?” It’s like you’ve opened Pandora’s box. You’d never heard Wonwoo speak this much. Though, maybe you’d also never really given him the chance. Now that you think about it, you’ve asked Wonwoo more questions tonight than you had since you met him.

“Captain. He thinks you’re never going to forgive him. That you won’t even give him the chance to apologize because you’re already done with him.”

Wonwoo watches as you cup Seungcheol’s hand in between yours, maybe in hopes of warming it up. But your own hand just as cold, if not colder, than Seungcheol’s.

“I think you already have though,” says Wonwoo. When you look at him questioningly he adds, “Forgiven him.”

You look back down at Seungcheol, leaning over to brush his hair out of his face, lingering on his forehead, which is just as cold as his hands. “Yeah,” you breathe, “I have.”

“You know, you could’ve been in Gryffindor for how much pride you have,” Wonwoo laughs. It’s not much, but it does bring a half smile out of you.

“I can stay with him,” you tell Wonwoo. “You should go back to your dorms. Before you get in trouble for being out of bed. No one will be upset at me for sticking around and I’ll figure something out if they do.”

“And Wonwoo,” you say as he begins to leave and he turns back to look at you, “Thank you. For coming to find me.”

He sends you a small smile, “I’m just glad I was able to get to you before someone else did.” And with that he leaves the infirmary.

You place your palm fully over Seungheol’s forehead, and you think you feel Seungcheol’s eyebrow twitch, but then its gone. There’s a folded bed sheet on the cot behind you and you grab it, unfolding and laying it out over Seungcheol. Then you take a seat once more, Seungcheol’s hand back in yours again.

You watch the steady rhythmic up and down of Seungcheol’s chest as he breathes and your eyelids grow heavy as it lulls you into sleep.

When you awake, you find a fleece blanket has been thrown over your shoulders. There’s a crick in your neck as you lift your head up off the edge of the cot.

Seungcheol is sitting upright, leaned up against the headboard, and eating out of a small dish of sliced apples in his lap.

“Morning, love.” His voice is deep from unuse, and his eyes look tired as he gives you a small smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No,” you shake your head, looking around the infirmary with bleary eyes. A yawn threatens to break out of your mouth.

Seungcheol lifts his small bowl of apple, silently offering you a slice, and you decline with a soft shake of your head, still trying to gather your bearings.

After Wonwoo left, you must have fallen asleep.

There’s a silence as you realise that you’re still holding Seungcheol’s, or he’s holding yours now. His hand, wrapped softly around yours. They’re warm again, back to normal. He starts rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back of your hand, like he knows your mind is starting to race and he’s trying to calm you down.

It almost works.

Both of you break the silence at the same time.

“I’m sorry for—”

“What the hell happ—”

You both clamp your mouths shut. Then Seungcheol starts again first.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was upset, but that’s no excuse, and I should’ve never spoken to you like that.” His words aren’t rushed, not like that day at Scrivenshaft’s. This time, he apologizes calmly, gently, like he’s had time to think about exactly what he’d like to say. He then adds on, softly, “I hope you can forgive me.”

You can’t even think about what he’s saying though, your mind racing with a million other concerns, questions for Seungcheol. “Seungcheol, what happened? Wonwoo told me you haven’t been sleeping.” Seungcheol mutters something that sounds oddly like snitch, but you ignore him, continuing on. Your voice has been raising with each word and you shake your joined hands at him, “How can our Head Boy take care of us if he can’t even take care of himself?”

“Wait,” Seungcheol says, perplexed, “Is that all you have to say?”

“Seungcheol, I thought the whole point of our deal was so that you’d take more time for yourself. That includes to sleep.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows are deeply furrowed, “You don’t have anything to say about what I just said?”

You continue to ignore him, “You’re burning yourself out. You may have just passed out this time, but something really bad can happen to you if you keep this up.”

Seungcheol, exasperated, says, “Okay but, do you or do you not forgive me?”

“Seungcheol, I’m being serious,” you say, “What if something worse had—”

Seungcheol tugs you forward by the hand, and you have to brace your free hand on his chest to keep from falling on top of him entirely. You gulp as he brings his face mere centimeters from yours.

“Princess, do you,” he enunciates every word carefully, “or do you not, forgive me?” He’s looking straight into your eyes and you stare right back into his, losing yourself in the deep brown, amber flecked abyss. “Do you?” He asks again

You nod back soundlessly, trying not to think about your hand still on his chest.

Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, “And do you know what you’re forgiving me for?”

“For being mean. For yelling at me.” Your voice is quiet, but firm, firmer than you were expecting it to be.

“There we are,” Seungcheol murmurs. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek. You try to shy away, but his hold is firm. He thumbs at the prominent dark bags under your eyes. “You know, you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping much either.”

“Been busy,” you mumble.

Seungcheol makes a tsking noise with his tongue, “Now that won’t do.” He rubs his thumb over your cheek, and you let him. “How about this, I’ll take better care of myself if you promise to do the same.”

“Promise to take care of you?” You ask dumbly, but full of earnest.

Seungcheol lets out a laugh, eyes crinkling. He brings his forehead to touch yours, “No silly, if you promise to take care of you.”

You close your eyes, suddenly feeling really shy, wanting very much to curl into yourself. Your noses touch, and his lips are so dangerously close to yours.

Seungcheol’s warm breath fans over your lips when he speaks again, “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you breathe out, thankful you didn’t stutter.

“Then it’s a deal,” Seungcheol presses a soft kiss to your forehead, near your hairline, and you stiffen.

He’s still delirious. Whatever Madame Pomferey gave him has clearly made him out of his mind.

Seungcheol sits back up against the headboard, “You should go, love. Poppy will let me out soon enough. I’ll come find you when she does.”

He lets go of your hand and you already miss the warmth.

History of Magic is truly one of the worst ways to start off your day. It’s a torturous class led by Professor Binns, a ghost who’s got a finger on the pulse of what Hogwarts students find interesting about as much as he’s got an actual pulse.

A slip of parchment slides over to you. You decipher the chicken scratch on it as I’m bored.

And? You write under it, sliding the parchment back over to Seungcheol, who’s seated next to you.

Something you’ve learned sitting next to Seungcheol in class is, that this kid has absolutely no sense of focus. It’s astonishing he’s ranked top of the class, you don’t know how he even gets through exams.

Entertain me :(, Seungcheol scribbles back. You make a face at his nearly unintelligible scrawl.

Pay attention!!

Its a minute or two before Seungcheol slides the parchment back. Do you hate me? Next to it, he’s drawn a rotund big eyed owl with a single tear falling out.

You roll your eyes and write a straightforward answer back, Yes.

He draws an arrow through the heart of the owl. You ignore it. He draws more arrows flying at the owl, animating them with a simple charm, and then you take the parchment from him.

Under the owl, you write a question, What are you doing tonight?

Homework? Seungcheol answers under it.

No, later, you write.

Dinner?

You huff before writing LATER again, this time underlining it three times.

Prefect rounds? He writes.

You hesitate for a moment before deciding to write down: Meet me at the astronomy tower after midnight. You aggressively slide the parchment in front of him and turn your attention back to the professor. It takes everything in you to not turn and watch Seungcheol’s reaction to your command, or to see how he’d respond back.

Seungcheol slips the parchment back in front of you, but you don’t look down at it. He shakes it softly, not wanting to make too much noise. Not that anyone was paying attention to you two in the back of the classroom.

You glance down briefly and see that at the very bottom of the parchment, he’d written What for?

You ignore the question, instead taking notes on the intricacies of the goblin wars.

Seungcheol mirrors you from earlier and huffs, underlining the What for? three times and shoving it on top of your notes.

But you don’t answer him.

The bell rings, signifying the end of class. You shove your things into your bag and turn to Seungcheol, “I’ll see you later tonight then,” not even giving him a chance to decline.

With Hildred gone, there’s no Arithmancy class until they find a substitute, and you’re essentially free for the rest of the day.

Seungcheol tries to grab your hand before you can run off, but your reflexes have been getting faster, putting even sir captain oh captain to shame. You dodge his hand, slipping out of the room and into the crowd in the corridor.

The rest of the day is spent in the newsroom. In between setting film up to develop, you go over your notes from class. Chan joins you during his lunch to help sort out the stacks and stacks of photos you have. At some point, Soonyoung brings in a tray of sandwiches from the kitchens, and then it’s back to work.

You help Soonyoung out with the layout of this issue. Moving articles and photos around. Changing type sets with simple charms.

You also strategically avoid Raveena. Still upset from the team meeting, you’ve done all you can to not cross paths with her when in the newsroom, and so far it’s worked.

Raveena writing that article felt like a betrayal. She was supposed to be on your team, so why did it feel like she was working against you. It wasn’t right.

You hear from some of the others that Raveena has decided to scrap the article altogether, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. Apparently, she has a new lead she’s working on, but has been keeping quite hush-hush about. Which is in and of itself, insane. It’s wild to start an article from scratch two days before print. And how Soonyoung has allowed it, you don’t know. How tight lipped she staying about it also worries you. You don’t trust her anymore, and it makes you sad.

With help from Chan, you manage to sort through the large stack of photos the two of you have taken the past couple weeks, and now it’s time to select the ones to use for the paper.

Chan picks out a photo he was able to snap of Professor Hildred being carted away by Ministry officials. How or when he was able to catch a shot of this you don’t know, but you can’t say you’re not a little proud of the kid.

Though he’s just a third year, you feel he’s already grown so much at the paper and you feel content in leaving the photography task to him next year.

You sift through the photos Chan took of the last Quidditch game. There’s a photo of Seungcheol, snow flurrying around him, yelling as he whacks a bludger away from himself. His goggles cover half his face, but with the way the rest of his face is scrunched up, you just know that his eyebrows have that signature furrow. Glancing to the side, you see Chan is focused on his own pile, a stack of the Halloween decorations in the Great Hall, and you slyly put the photo of Seungcheol in your robe pocket.

As the night goes on, you find yourself in front of the rolling board in the back of the newsroom, playing around with the layouts of the articles and corresponding photos. Soonyoung was busy huddled over another student’s article, line editing their finished piece.

You glance up at the clock on the wall and curse, it was nearly midnight. You do a final once over of the board, telling Chan, “Let Hoshi know I’m done looking over the mock layout, will you?”

“Where’re you headed? Bit early for you to head to bed, no?”

“Just somewhere I need to be, don’t worry about it,” you ruffle Chan’s hair and he scowls, trying to swat your hand away.

You’re able to slip out of the room without anyone else noticing and begin to make your way down the corridors, hoping there’s no patrols on the route you take back to Ravenclaw tower. You needed to grab something before you head up to the Astronomy tower to meet Seungcheol.

You sprint all the way up Ravenclaw tower, which was a harder feat than you’d expected, winded as you head inside your dorm room.

It’s dark and the girls are all in their beds. There’s a faint glow of light from Mythili’s bed, but the curtains are drawn around it, and you doubt she can hear you anyways.

You pull the soft blanket off your bed, folding and rolling it up in your hand, and then you’re off again.

You run down the stairs, through the corridors, all the way to the Astronomy tower, careful to keep your wand light not too bright as to not wake the portraits up. Being outed as a student out of bed is not how you want this night to go.

As you take breaks while climbing the stairs up to the Astronomy tower, you curse the builders of this castle. Why are there so many bloody stairs?

At the top of the tower, you smell the fresh air and the cool breeze feels nice on your overheating skin. The skies are clear today, and you thank Merlin for that, as it is jut what you need for what you’re doing tonight.

Seungcheol is sitting on the ground, propped up against the wall of the castle. His arms are crossed over his chest, legs sticking straight out, and head tipped into his shoulder as he nods off. He starts at the sound of your shoes clacking against the stone floor, head nearly banging against the castle wall.

Seungcheol lets out a big yawn, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes with the back of his hand. The glow of the moonlight halos on his handsome face.

“Sorry,” you wheeze out, still struggling to catch your breath. “You’re probably so tired of waiting for me.”

You keel over, keeping the blanket bundled tightly in your arms, to take in a large gulp of air. Running was not something you did often, or at all really. Physical exertion was not your strong suit.

This makes Seungcheol get up instantly, pushing himself up from the wall.

“Are you okay?” he puts his hands on your arms and you stand up straight still breathing heavily.

“I’m fine—” wheeze “—just haven’t—” wheeze “—ran in a while.” Ever, really, but he didn’t need to know that.

Seungcheol looks on at you with concern, hands still firmly clutched around your biceps, “Are you sure? You don’t seem okay to me.”

You try to shove him away with the blanket rolled up in your arms, but he keeps an iron grip on you, “Oh stop being such a worrywart, I’m fine.”

Seungcheol glances down at the blanket in your hands, “Princess, did you want to watch the stars with me?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Shut up,” you mutter, shoving him away again, more pathetically and with far less power than before. This time, he lets you, stepping back with a soft stumble, not dropping his teasing smile.

“Sorry again for making you wait.” You unravel the blanket spreading it out flat on the stone floor. “We’re dropping another issue of the Whistler soon—don’t tell anyone—so we’re a bit on crunch time. I lost track of the time.” You kneel down, the stone floor cold against your bare knees, and smooth the blanket of any folds.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” Seungcheol waves a hand at you, stifling a yawn behind the other. “I was finishing up rounds with the prefects anyhow.”

You pause, hand holding on to a corner of the blanket, “Merlin, I shouldn’t have asked you to come out so late.” So used to running nocturnal, it hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps Seungcheol might’ve wanted to sleep. “I didn’t even think. You just got out of the infirmary too.”

Seungcheol crouches down to your level. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Princess,” he waits for your eyes to shyly meet his, “I could be on the brink of death, and I would still do anything or go anywhere that you asked me to.” He holds your gaze until you suddenly let go of the blanket and shove him over, making him land on his butt with an oof.

“Harrowing Hippogriffs!” Hands fly up to cover your mouth in shock, “I’m sorry—I just—Seungcheol! You can’t say things like that.”

Seungcheol’s wearing a wide grin as he gets up and dusts his hands off, wiping them on his robes. “And why is that? Afraid you’ll fall in love with me?” He winks, dimple on full display, almost mockingly.

You cast him a silent glare then slip your shoes off before taking a seat on the blanket, patting the empty spot next to you for Seungcheol to sit. If he notices how your cheeks were burning all the way to your ears, he doesn’t say anything, instead silently mirroring you taking off your shoes and coming to sit next to you.

The two of you sit in silence. There are so many things you want to say, but you don’t have the words for any of them. You want to tell him why you asked him to come here tonight. That, yes, you wanted to show him the stars. You wanted to ask him why he was so angry over a game. Why he would take that out on you of all people? Why was he overworking himself to the bone. None of this gets past your tongue though, and you let the silence cloak the two of you.

There’s a gust of wind, sending a cold shiver down your back. All the warmth from your little jaunt through the towers has dissipated, and you’re back to reality: it’s winter in Scotland, you’re outside in the middle of the night, and it is cold.

Seungcheol sighs, “Where on earth is your robe?”

In your haste to leave the newsroom, you’d left your robes draped over a chair by the rolling board. Now, your skirt barely reaches your knees, and your school shirt is as thin as a sheet. There’s another light breeze and a shiver wracks through you again. Hands rub up and down your arms, trying to warming yourself up.

Seungcheol grumbles to himself as he unclasps his robes and throws it over your lap to cover your legs. He then murmurs, swishing his wand about, and a thick fleece blanket in scarlet red appears. It glows as Seungcheol taps it a couple of times, then returns back to normal.

“What are you—” Seungcheol shushes you, unfolding and throwing the red blanket over your shoulders.

With no energy left to argue tonight, your fingers curl around the soft fleece, bringing the blanket tight around you. The woodsy smell of Seungcheol floods your senses, lingering hints of bergamot and grass coiling around you. It also seems Seungcheol’s put a heating spell on it, and the blanket warms up your body, no longer feeling the cold of the night.

Seungcheol crosses his arms together, turning to look at you, “So, why’d you want me to meet you here, Princess?”

“The stars.” You state, matter-of-factly

“The stars?” He grins, bumping your shoulder with his, “So you did want to watch the stars with me!”

Just when you thought your cheeks had calmed down, another blush begins to bloom, and you’re thankful for the shadow surely cast across your face right now.

“There’s something about them.” You bring your knees up, wrapping your arms around them and looking up at the sky. “They’re millions of miles away, these burning balls of gas, containing an infinite number of other galaxies. And here we are, like little tiny ants in the grand scheme of things.” You sigh, pulling the blanket closer around you, “Really puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

Seungcheol hums in understanding. He leans back on his hands while you set your cheek on your knees, turning to look at him. There’s a gust of wind and Seungcheol’s hair goes flying every which way. In a rare sighting outside Seungcheol’s rigidity, his shirt’s untucked and necktie loose, flying to the side with every puff of wind. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you see the goosebumps trail up his arms. A light shudder runs through him and you frown.

In a moment of spontaneity, without thinking it through, you lift an arm up, holding half his blanket up, “Come here, we can share.”

Seungcheol doesn’t jump at the chance of warmth, and maybe if you were anyone else, you’d be a tad bit offended. “Are you sure?” His eyebrows furrow, skeptical. Unsure if you’re asking because you want to, or only because you feel bad. And he wants the former, not the latter.

You shake the blanket in response and, tentatively, he sidles up to you, taking the end of the blanket from you and wrapping it around his back.

His arm is tense as it presses up against you, but then you feel him relax, settling into the warmth.

The familiar creep of trepidation starts up again, and try as you do to push the monster back down, or ignore it, it crawls up your throat, threatening, no, screaming to be let out.

But, as Seungcheol presses closer, something changes. A warm feeling pools in your gut when Seungcheol pulls the blanket tighter around you two, his arm pushing firmer against yours, and letting his knee knock against your leg.

Seungcheol radiates warmth and comfort and for a moment, just a moment, you allow yourself to lean into it.

“Seungcheol,” you say softly

“Yes, Princess?”

The moniker sends a shiver down your spine. Seungcheol, thinking you’re still cold, pulls the blanket even more snug around you two, completely pressed up against your side now. He pulls part of his robes down, making sure they’re fully covering your legs.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything. What’s worrying your pretty little head, hm?” He teasingly knocks his head into yours.

You clear your throat before asking, “Why were you so angry? After your Quidditch match?” You don’t dare to look at him, worried how he’ll react to your question, despite saying you could ask anything.

If you had though, maybe you would’ve caught how red his ears turned.

Seungcheol takes a moment to think before answering. The moment is long enough, you think he’s not going to answer at all, and you’ve most likely ruined the night.

“Again, I’m so sorry about that day,” he starts, “I’m embarrassed with how I reacted.”

“I’m not asking so you’d apologize again.” You put your cheek back on your knee so you could look at him, trying your best to not let any frustration leak into your voice. “I’m asking because I want to know why.”

“Because it’s Quidditch. Quidditch is important,” Seungcheol says, as if that answers everything.

“You’ve said that before.” Seungcheol cocks his head in question and you elaborate. “The first time you asked me to be your girlfr—fake girlfriend.” You clear your throat, hoping he didn’t notice the slip up. “You said what really matters is Quidditch.” And, because you feel the need to, you add, “I’m not making any judgements—”

Seungcheol gives you a look, pursing his lips.

“Okay, so I’m making some judgement. But it’s just a game!” You voice starts to rise a little, “I don’t understand why simply losing would make you lash out like that. Seungcheol, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speak to someone that way, and trust me I’ve observed you a lot lately.”

“You’ve been watching me?” Seungcheol may mean it teasingly, but this time, it doesn’t land. This time, its your turn to furrow your eyebrows at his deflection, and your mouth downturns in a frown.

“Oh don’t be upset Princess, I was just teasing.” Seungcheol brings his knees up like yours and and sets his chin on them.

“I love Quidditch,” Seungcheol says, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “It’s the only thing that keeps me from going crazy.” He briefly glances at you, “Well, one of the only things, at least.”

“It’s my last year,” Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh, “After this year, I’ll be in Healer training and there won’t be any time for Quidditch. They say a team’s only as good as their captain, and I feel like I really let my team down.”

You nod in understanding. While you don’t entirely get it, you could begin to.

Seungcheol rests his cheek on his knees, so he can look at you properly, “I really am sorry I said all those things to you, love. I can’t apologize enough for that.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “No need to keep apologizing Seungcheol.”

He stares into your eyes, “It was mean. No matter how I was feeling, I never should’ve taken it out on you.”

You don’t respond. Just silently watch as the moonlight hits his face, washing it in an ethereal glow, a light breeze flowing through his bangs.

He takes your silence as absolution. “Why did you ask me to see the stars with you?”

“I think you’re working too hard, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol snorts and you press your lips into a thin line.

“I’m being serious. You’ve got too much on your plate. I think you need to learn to let loose a little. Do something that’s not school for once.”

He scoffs, “That’s funny, coming from you.”

You head flies up, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seungcheol brings a hand up to cup your cheek, and you keep yourself from flinching. He rubs his thumb gently over your seemingly dark under eyes. “I mean, when was the last time you left the newsroom the same day you entered it, and went to bed at a reasonable hour? When was the last time you got a full nights sleep?”

You squirm under his touch, but don’t make any move to push his hand off. “I sleep.”

“Not what I asked, love.” Seungcheol drops his hand. “I see how much coffee you drink. You down Nocturnas Brewery like it’s water. How many cups have you had today? Four? Five? Six?”

You grumble about how you weren’t here to talk about you, unsure how this conversation has suddenly flipped.

Seungcheol sniffs, pouting, and then seems to silently make up his mind about something.

He takes his wand out, half the fleece blanket falling to the floor causing you to shiver from the loss of warmth, and waves it over his lap, conjuring up a fluffy white pillow. Placing it behind you on the floor, he tugs the blanket from around you. The cool air blasts against your skin, and your teeth chatter against each other.

Seungcheol lays back on half the pillow, hitting the empty space next to his head with the back of his hand. “Come on,” his voice drops into a commanding tone, “we both need to rest. You can see the stars better from down here anyways.”

You wonder if this is how he speaks to his team, before grudgingly laying back, your head nearly touching his.

Seungcheol tosses the scarlet blanket over you two, seeing to it that it covered you entirely, as to not let any cold air under.

The heat spell keeps it warm and toasty under the blanket and you decide to indulge in the dark of the night, scooching in a little closer to Seungcheol.

He snakes an arm under you and you let yourself sink into his side, breathing in his scent. He smelled like boy, but also like the citrus of his soap, and an earthy mix of the grassy pitch and Forbidden Forest. His hot breath fans against your cheek every time he breathes out, and you smell a faint hint of mint. It’s less panic inducing, and instead there’s something more grounding about it. A certain familiarity in Seungcheol that keeps the monster at bay.

As difficult as it was, you try not to think of Seungcheol too much as you look up at the night sky, littered with the sparkle of stars.

“My favourite is Cygnus.”

“Who?”

“Cygnus. He’s a Swan.” You point up at a mass of stars, “And that’s Deneb in there. She’s one of the brightest stars in the sky.”

Seungcheol presses his cheek up against yours to follow your finger up into the starry sky. You try not to be distracted by how nice and warm, and soft, his cheeks feel on yours.

“They say there was this guy, Phaeton, son of the sun god. He went out to ride his father’s sun chariot, but he lost control of the reins. So Zeus, this lightning guy, shot him out of the sky, bam!” You whip your hand across the sky, miming a lightning strike. Seungcheol tightens his hold around your waist, keeping you in place.

“Lightning bolt to the chariot, and down it falls.” Your fingers trail downwards, “Down onto Earth, and into a river called Eridanus. According to the story, Cygnus, his lover, spent days diving into the river to collect all his bones.” You look on mournfully at the constellation.

“He loved him so much,” you whisper sadly, “All he wanted was to to give him a proper burial.”

Seungcheol hums along, and pushes his cold nose into the crook of your neck. He smiles against your skin when you yelp from the sudden cold and he tries to press closer.

You don’t let it phase you as you continue, though you can’t help but stammer a little, “T-the gods were so touched by his devotion, they turned Cygnus into a swan and placed him in the skies.”

Seungcheol mumbles into your neck, “I’d dive for your bones too, Princess, are you gonna turn me into a star?”

You make to kick his shin, but this just makes Seungcheol laugh and he rolls you into him, both his arms wrapping around you. You ear is pressed up against his chest, and you swear you can hear the badum badum of his heart beating through his shirt.

“How do you know all this?” Seungcheol’s fingers absentmindedly draw shapes on your back. “This isn’t something that’s covered in Astronomy.”

His fingers pause as he waits for an answer.

“We almost made an astrology column at the Whistler. I did a lot of research for it, but the idea ended up falling through. Something about the stories though, of the different constellations, they stuck with me. I find the stars . . . fascinating, I guess.”

You wriggle your arm out from under his to point up at another cluster of stars, “See those there? That’s the big dipper. It’s like, a massive soup ladle. And in the corner, the really bright star? That’s the northern star.” Seungcheol hums in understanding, and you can feel the thrum of vibration against your neck. “The big dipper is part of a bigger constellation, Ursa Major. She’s a bear.”

You hold your hand up like a bear claw and make a fierce face at the sky. You can feel Seungcheol smiling again, face still buried in the crook of your neck.

“You’re not even looking at the sky,” you whine.

Seungcheol laughs again, “Okay, okay.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm to placate you, and you’re ashamed to admit, it does calm you down a little. “You know so much about the night sky, love. Now how about we close our eyes, just for a little bit, yeah?”

He pulls you in closer, if that was even humanely possible, adjusting to tuck you under his chin.

You don’t know what to do about his belt buckle that sort of digs into your hip. Or the way his legs tangle with yours.

But, he holds you tenderly against his warm chest, and you hear the rhythmic beat of his heart once more, letting it lull you into a false sense of security. Your arms come up to curl around him, and you close your eyes, letting yourself relax into the comfort of him.

As he asked, for just a little bit, you’ll close your eyes. You’ll close your eyes, and you’ll forget. Forget that this isn’t real. Forget that Seungcheol is not your boyfriend. Forget that this isn’t real.

The first sign that something is not right is the sunlight that warms your face.

Second, it’s the sound of birds chirping. Third, it’s the two strong arms wrapped tight around you while your legs are tangled with Seungcheol’s.

Seungcheol

Your eyes fly wide open as panic settles its way into your chest.

Seungcheol’s face is buried in your hair and he’s snoring lightly.

“Seungcheol,” you hiss, trying to pat him awake, “Seungcheol!”

You try to pry his arms off you, but it has opposite of the intended effect. Seungcheol groans in his sleep, wrapping his arms tighter around you, and resumes snoring.

“Seungcheol!” You try again, this time attempting to shove him as hard as you can with your whole body. While you’re successful in rolling Seungcheol over on his back, he takes you with him, arms still in an iron grip around you.

His eyes fly open as your face hovers above his.

“It’s morning,” you say in a vexed voice.

Seungcheol smiles lazily, eyes in a tired squint. “Good morning, Princess.” His voice gruff from sleep.

You huff, “No, Seungcheol. It’s morning!”

His eyes widen, tearing them away from you, cursing as he looks around at the bright sunny skies and you two on top of the the Astronomy Tower. He loosens his grip around you and you can finally slip out. The two of you struggle to quickly unfurl out of the scarlet fleece blanket wrapped around you two, elbows and knees bumping into each other.

“It’s morning.” Seungcheol tries to clear the sleep out of his voice. “When did it become morning?”

“Let’s just close our eyes for a little bit,” you say in a mocking deep voice, scoffing at the end.

“I didn’t think we’d sleep through the night!”

“Well we did,” you sneer, “so get up pumpkin.” You straighten your shirt and skirt to look less ruffled. “Do you know what time it is?”

Seungcheol feels around for where he discarded his glasses last night, and when he checks his watch, he drops a saccharin string of curses. He scrambles to stand up, charming his blanket and pillow away as you grab your blanket off the floor to fold up.

“I cannot believe you let us sleep till morning,” you snap. Not that you’ve ever been time to your first class, but that was irrelevant as far as Seungcheol was concerned.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Seungcheol gripes. “Also, I didn’t make you do anything, so don’t snap at me,” his voice turning up at the end in a pouty whine. He grabs the robe off the floor and thrusts it at you, trading you for the blanket in your hands, and tapping his foot as you put your arms through the sleeves, clasping the front hook.

The two of you hurry down the stairs and rush down the corridors to the changing staircases. Seungcheol puts an arm out to stop you at the bottom of a flight of stairs, right before a tall arched doorway. He puts a finger to his lips, peeking his head through the doorway.

Already, students are beginning to feed into the changing staircases, most likely coming from the Great Hall and on their way to their classes.

Seungcheol turns back to you, “There enough of a crowd coming out of breakfast that we’d be able to blend in and go to our dormitories. That sound good?” Seungcheol’s face is scrunched up in determination, he’s sure this’ll work. “I’ll see you in class then.”

He turns to walk through the doorway when you grab him by the arm. “Wait, Seungcheol, wouldn’t we want people to notice us?” You chew your bottom lip, “Maybe it’ll be good for people to see us together.”

His eyes flit down for a millisecond. “Princess, we want people to think I’m sweetly courting you at school,” he tries to hide a smile, “Not defiling you on the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night.”

You gasp, slapping Seungcheol on the arm, “We were doing nothing of the sort!”

Seungcheol laughs, ruffling your hair, “I’ll see you back in class, love.” With that, he disappears through the archway.

You fix your hair, letting the strands fall back into place, before stepping through the archway and letting the crowd suck you in.

You make it back to the Ravenclaw dormitories undetected, entering your room just as Mythili is about to head out.

She looks you up and down, and smirks, “Fun night?”

You freeze, like you’ve been caught red handed, “What?”

Mythili looks pointedly at your robes and you look down.

Sewn onto the breast is a Gryffindor patch, a lion rearing on its hind legs, and next to it, a shiny Head Boy badge is pinned. You silently curse, as your heart stops and sinks into your stomach.

You and Seungcheol forgot the robes were his.

“Speechless?” Mythili looks smug and you want to wipe the stupid grin off her face. “That fun, huh?” She lets out a laugh at your horrified look, “I’ll see you in class, don’t be late.”

a/n: it's happening!!! the fake dating commences haha. what did you think? thoughts on seungcheol and wallflower's dynamics? also isn't he literally the cutest, i love himmm 🥺

Trading Soonyoung his essay for your textbook, you flip to the chapter on antidotes. “See,” you point to a paragraph on the second page, “one of Buckley’s Three Laws of Antidotes: The number of stirs must stay consistent when creating an antidote.”

Soonyoung grumbles, aggressively crossing out a paragraph and begins rewriting it below, his quill making angry scratching noises against the parchment.

For the past few nights, this has become the norm. Dinner with Soonyoung and Seungcheol, joined by Joshua and Jeonghan. Then, as a group, heading down to the library to get some work done. You can tell it’s not necessarily how Joshua and Jeonghan would like to spend their nights but, if there’s something you’ve learned about those two this past week, it’s that they seem to appease Seungcheol’s every whim.

Tonight, there’s a new addition. A gangly sixth year Gryffindor who introduces himself as Wonwoo Jeon. His glasses are comically thick, almost as thick as Raveena’s, and he hasn’t spoken a single word since he’s sat down next to Joshua.

An arm casually draped across the back of your chair, Seungcheol has abandoned his studying, opting to chat with his friends across the table instead.

Despite not actively touching you, it feels as though his arm is radiating the heat of a thousand suns against your back, pulling your focus away from Soonyoung’s essay like planets to the sun.

Soonyoung throws his quill down on the table, frustrated, “It’s getting late and my brain can’t function anymore. I’m calling it.” He lets out a defeated sigh, “You’ll have to help me finish later, Wallflower.”

“We should all probably get to bed.” Seungcheol looks pointedly at you, “Especially you. You need your rest for tomorrow.” He stands up, grabbing your bag off the floor, and slinging it over his shoulder, on top of his own. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Joshua’s eyes flit between you and Seungcheol, confused, “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”

You avoid everyone’s gaze as you stand up, rushing to grab your textbook off the table. Soonyoung’s probably got the same stupid smirk he had when you mentioned your date this morning. A quick glance proves you right, yet this time he’s added in the stupid wiggling of his eyebrows.

Joshua turns to Jeonghan, “What’s he talking about?” But Jeonghan shrugs, making an i-don’t-know-your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine face, shaking his head.

Seungcheol plucks the textbook out of your hands, slipping it into your bag, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m taking my girlfriend to Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

Jeonghan faux vomits at the word girlfriend and Joshua smacks him upside the head.

“Thanks,” you whisper under your breath, grabbing the rest of your things. Seungcheol definitely hears you because he smiles, eyes turning into half moon crescents.

When you go to grab your bag from Seungcheol, he dodges your hands. You scowl at him.

“Jeonghan, you can vomit all you want, but one of us has a date tomorrow, and it isn’t you,” says Seungcheol cheekily.

You try for your bag again, but damn Seungcheol and damn his Quidditch reflexes. He gracefully turns out of your reach.

“Come on, Princess—” your breath catches “—let’s get you to bed.” Seungcheol starts walking backwards, and has the audacity to wink at you, motioning his head to the library exit.

You clutch an inkwell tight in your hand, debating whether or not to launch it at Seungcheol’s head, when Jeonghan says, “You should go. Before Sir Head Boy here starts rattling off the negative impacts of not getting a full nights sleep.” Ironic. If there was anyone who got less sleep than you, it was Seungcheol.

“Goodnight Wallflower,” Soonyoung says behind you and you raise a hand to him without looking. You stalk past Seungcheol, but not before pushing your inkwell and quills into his chest.

Seungcheol drops them into your bag and scurries after you, trying to catch up to you in the dim corridor, “Slow down. Hey, Princess, slow down.”

You halt, whipping around to face Seungcheol, and it catches him off guard. He skids, putting his hands up as to not run into you.

“Why—” you hiss “—do you keep calling me that?”

The hallway’s deserted, but you still do your best to keep your voice down.

“What?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, “Princess?”

“Yes,” you spit out. “That.”

Seungcheol pushes his bottom lip out in a pout, cocking his head to one side, “If I’m the Prince of Hogwarts, wouldn’t that make you my Princess, Princess?”

His logic checks out, and you hated him for it. It made you want to rip all your hair out and scream. But that, would be a tad bit dramatic.

Seungcheol takes your silence as animosity and bends down to bring his face close in front of yours, intently locking his eyes with yours, “What would you rather I call you then, love?”

You want to look anywhere but at him, but his face is so damn close to yours. Defiantly, you jut your chin out, “My name, perhaps?”

He feigns thinking, straightening back up again, “Mm, no, I think Princess sounds better,” and shuffles around you to begin walking to your dormitories.

You roll your eyes and jog to catch up, walking alongside him. “Look, you don’t have to carry my things for me and walk me to my dorm every night. I’m perfectly capable of doing all these things myself.” You make one last futile attempt at grabbing your bag but Seungcheol swiftly shifts it to his other side, away from you. “I didn’t make it to my seventh year unable to do anything, you know.”

Seungcheol smiles to himself. “Never said you couldn’t, love,” he says softly.

“Stop calling me that,” you snarl. A quick look around the hallway finds it empty, “There’s no one even here, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t have to what? Be an adoring, loving boyfriend?”

“We’re not even dating!” You cry out.

“Shhp!” Seungcheol puts a finger to his lips, then points up. Following his finger, you look up at the portraits covering the tall walls all the way up until they disappear into the darkness above.

Ah, yes, the walls are always listening.

It takes everything in you to not stomp your feet in petulance, though there is still an underlying irritation in every step as you continue walking.

The two of you trudge your way up Ravenclaw tower, the spiral staircase feeling never ending tonight. At the top, Seungcheol reminds you, “As far as anyone’s concerned, we are dating. Don’t forget that.”

You open your mouth to argue but Seungcheol cuts you off, “I don’t want to hear it. You know I’m right.”

That he was. But you weren’t going to tell him that.

The bronze eagle knocker glints from the luminosity of the moonlight cascading through the high windows of the tower.

Seungcheol leans up against the wall by the door, “I don’t think you’re weak, or that you can’t help yourself. I’m doing this because, as your boyfriend, it brings me joy to do this.” Fake boyfriend, you want to correct him.

Your nose twitches and you knock the knocker a little harder than necessary.

The bronze eagle’s voice booms, “I can take decades to build but a day to destroy. What am I?”

Barely needed a moment to think, you answer, “Trust.” The door swings open and you turn to Seungcheol, “It brings you joy to do these things?”

Seungcheol grins, crossing his arms, “It does. You also get so angry, Princess. It’s cute.”

Cheeks burning, you shove him, yanking your bag away while he stumbles off the wall, stifling a laugh behind his fist.

“Sleep well, love. I’ll see you in the morning,” he calls out as you enter your common room. You slam the door without looking back, but you can still hear his giggles as the door closes shut.

Morning greets you like a chessboard to the face.

All throughout the night, you shifted in and out of consciousness. You couldn’t have had more than a couple of hours of steady sleep.

On your way to the bathroom, you tiptoe past a sleeping Mythili. She snores softly, half her body hanging off her bed, and you double back to push up her hanging limbs, tucking them in under her blanket. Mythili stirs for a second, then resumes snoring, curling an arm under her pillow.

In the bathroom, you almost can’t recognise the girl staring back at you in the mirror. Dark eye bags shade your under eyes and your skin is starting to take on an almost sickly pallor.

Last night was unkind to you, but so was the night before. As was the night before that. This was your new normal, you just had to get used to it. The sleepless nights are starting to take it’s toll though, and you’re beginning to look a little worse for wear.

You wash your face, and along with it, try to wash away any unfriendly thoughts clouding your mind.

No amount of scrubbing could wash one thought away though: what exactly was one supposed to wear on a date?

It feels childish. A Hogsmeade trip is nothing special. For years, you’ve been going on them with Soonyoung and Raveena, and never once did you put an ounce of thought into what you were going to wear.

The angel on your shoulder tells you to wear whatever you normally would. That Seungcheol wouldn’t care, this is all for show anyhow.

The devil, on the other hand, he had other thoughts. What if wearing your regular robes is unconvincing? What if it did matter to Seungcheol? What if he felt like you weren’t putting enough effort into this facade?

Soonyoung would probably have a separate collection of robes for dates alone. A selection of designer robes flicker through your mind and you shake your head to rid of the unhelpfulness.

Rummaging through your trunk, you finally decide on some dark charcoal grey robes. They’re less shabby than your navy ones, and you definitely did not want to show up in your school robes.

Mythili is still snoring when you’re done changing. Sunlight begins to stream brighter through the windows, and you pull the curtains shut around her bed before leaving.

When you arrive at the front hall, Seungcheol is nowhere to be found. You push one of the large entrance doors open, stepping out into the cold air, and into a flurry of white.

Snow.

Climbing down the snowy front steps, you reach a hand out. A snowflake lands on the tip of your finger, melting on contact. Your fingertips turn pink as the snowflakes melt one by one on your hand, a shiver running through you from the rush of cold.

“Morning, Princess,” a familiar voice whispers against your ear.

Your heart nearly stops and you whip around, cursing, “Galloping gargoyles! Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol’s bent over laughing, both arms wrapped around his waist, and eyes crinkled into two half moons. You shove him and he barely stumbles, still cackling.

“Need to get you a bloody bell around your neck,” you mutter. A gust of wind blows past, another shiver running through your back.

A scowl replaces Seungcheol’s cheery smile, “Why aren’t you wearing a jumper?” He’s got on thick dark navy robes and a striped Gryffindor scarf around his neck. “Didn’t you know it was snowing out?”

“Didn’t look out the window.” You wave an apathetic hand at him, “I’m fine.”

As you descend down the stairs, snow flurries into your face with a stronger gust of wind. Shoulders shake as another shiver vibrates through you and you sputter, brushing the snow out your face and hair.

Seungcheol harrumphs, coming to stand in front of you, one step below, bringing you two face-to-face. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he’s unwinding the scarf around his neck and wrapping it around yours.

“What are you—”

Seungcheol shushes you and your mouth clamps shut. He focuses on meticulously wrapping the scarf around your neck, fastening your robes closed over the bottom of the scarf.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m gonna let you come with me without keeping warm.” He pulls your hood over you head, careful not to touch your face while pushing your hair away, tucking it under the hood.

“Let me?” You glower down your nose at him.

“Sorry, sorry. Forgot you’re a big girl who does everything herself with no help at all,” he says in a patronizing tone as he fixes the scarf to make sure it’s completely covering your neck with no gaps. “That’s why you came out into the freezing cold without a jumper. Or a scarf.” For a second you think you hear wrong, but you swear he mutters idiot under his breath.

You open your mouth to argue but he lifts an eyebrow, as if daring you to say something. You shut your mouth quickly, teeth grinding in frustration as you lift your chin at him in silent defiance.

There’s always an air of both confidence and righteousness that seems to float around Seungcheol. It drove you mad, always putting you on the defense, countering your hesitance with all things concerning Seungcheol. A hesitance that you couldn’t push away, no matter how hard you tried to press past it.

And above all, you hated not having the last word.

Seungcheol pulls the collar of your robes up before smoothing them out. He turns to walk down the last few steps, then begins on the path to Hogsmeade, not getting very far before realizing you’re still frozen on the stone steps. “You coming or not?” He calls out, and you shake yourself out of your reverie, hurrying down the steps to the path to catch up.

The two of you walk side by side in silence. It’s a few minutes up the hill when Seungcheol clears his throat, “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

You stop in your tracks and it’s takes Seungcheol a few steps to notice you’re not next to him. He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You didn’t plan the date today?” You blurt out. In response, Seungcheol cocks his head to the side in puppy fashion.

“You’re the one who told me to come out with you—” you’re unable to stop the indignation from leaking into your voice, “—and you don’t even have anything planned?”

Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows again, lower lip jutting out in a pout, “You said you had errands to run, I thought that’s what we were doing?” His eyebrows shoot up and he points an accusatory finger at you, “You! You want to be taken out!” He widens his eyes and turns to point a finger at himself, “By me.”

“W-what?” You stammer. “I want no such thing, thank you very much. I—” You look anywhere but at Seungcheol and the smirk growing on his face. “I just don’t like my time wasted,” you wrap your arms around yourself. “Or liars. If you say you’re going to do something, I expect you to do it.” With that, you stomp past him, and he follows you with his eyes before jogging to catch up.

Seungcheol walks backwards, trying to catch your eyes, “Admit it, you were looking forward to our date today.” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s probably got on a smug smile, you can hear it in his voice. You plod along, the path to Hogsmeade feeling doubly longer than usual.

Seungcheol hums before turning back to walk in tandem with you, hands clasped behind his back. “Well, as your amazingly loving and adoring boyfriend, I have no set plans for today other than doing only whatever it is you would like to do, Princess.”

You’re glad for the snow and the scarf, allowing the red of your burning cheeks and ears to go unnoticed.

High street is bare this morning. There’s a gentle thrum of town locals, grabbing a coffee at the inn, picking up their post, running their weekend errands. Seems as though you and Seungcheol are the first few students to make your way up here.

“Where to first?” Seungcheol asks softly as the two of you stand in the town entrance.

Snow builds lightly on your shoulders as you think. There was no reason to push back any further on this. The date wasn’t happening, so you might as well buck up and take the opportunity to get your shopping list done.

Mentally going over the things you need, you land on your first stop. “Apothecary?” Your voice wavers with hesitation, but Seungcheol doesn’t contest.

“Lead the way.”

The Apothecary is a little shop at the end of the street. Squeezed between the post office and Gladrags, it’s a short wooden building, painted night black, with a thatched roof that seems to be caving in.

Seungcheol hesitates before following you in through the doorway, face filled with concern when the wooden door pops off its top hinge.

It’s dim inside, the tinted windows letting in the smallest ray of light. Except, upon closer look, the windows weren’t tinted at all. Instead, years of grime had built up on the glass pane, coating it the same jet black as the walls.

On the front window sill, sits a fluffy black kneazle. Its beady yellow eyes follow you as you crouch down to scratch the little monster behind the ear.

“Hiya Zeeks,” you coo. The kneazle swishes his pointed tail in response.

“Zeeks?” Seungcheol lifts a hand to tentatively pat the little guy’s head. The kneazle closes its eyes and purrs in return, stretching his neck out so Seungcheol can get under his chin.

“Short for Ezekiel. The owner keeps him around to catch the mice.” You stand up and motion to a thin, bald, and scraggly looking man at the front counter. A black eye patch covers his left eye, and when he smiles in your direction, a couple teeth are missing. “This way, the stuff I need is further in the back.”

Seungcheol grimaces as you lead him past jars of fish eyes, lizard tails, and things he couldn’t even begin to describe. There’s a fine layer of dust coating the shelves and he avoids touching them. “How often do you need new ingredients?” He eyes a jar filled with bezoars.

“Depends,” you say, grabbing two packets of dried poinsettia powder, turning them over in your hand. “I try to grab stuff when we have a Hogsmeade weekend but, I’ll order things by post if we don’t. If I’m experimenting with new potions, I need new ingredients more often.” You pick up a third packet of poinsettia powder and move on, walking down the aisle to a section with claws hanging from the ceiling. “Generally, I make big batches though, and they tend to keep for a while if you don’t open the stopper.”

Seungcheol hums, following you around the Apothecary like a puppy, watching, as you push aside a jar labelled ‘bat spleens’ to reach behind and grab one filled with a thick burnt orange coloured liquid . You turn the jar over in your hand, and Seungcheol’s able to read the label, salamander blood. He holds back a gag and follows as you eventually take your selection up to the front counter, making small talk with the owner as they ring you up.

Seungcheol is swift to grab your bag of things before you can and at this point you know better than to argue, letting him sling it over his head, hanging it across his chest.

“Where to next, Princess?” asks Seungcheol, as the two of you exit the store.

Your breath catches and you wheeze, trying to cough it off like it was nothing.

Taking a deep breath, making sure your voice doesn’t waver, you say “Scrivenshaft’s? Unless there was somewhere you wanted to go?” You bite your bottom lip, looking at Seungcheol.

His eyes flit down for just a moment, then he clears his throat, shaking his head, “No, nothing for me. Scrivenshaft’s it is.”

The street’s busier than before. With the sun further up in the sky, and the snow having decided to pause for a bit, more people have made it out of the woodwork.

“Sorry we’re just doing my boring errands today.” Students crowd the street, donning familiar scarves of maroon, blue, green, and yellow, and you two weave through them, making your way to Scrivenshaft’s.

“No, this is nice,” Seungcheol says firmly. “It’s far more interesting than what I’d normally do here in Hogsmeade.”

You side step a student, careful not to brush shoulders with them, “What is it you normally do?”

Seungcheol scrunches his nose, “Weasley’s shop? Three Broomsticks? Maybe Hog’s Head if we’re feeling extra mischievous?” He doesn’t notice you staring at him as he speaks.

The sporadic gusts of wind have made his hair go in every which direction, and he sniffles, using a hand to push his glasses up his nose, which, along with his cheeks, are rosy pink from the cold. You notice a little scar on his eyebrow, the faintest slit where his eyebrow hair never grew back in.

You’re about to ask him how he got it when a kid runs past, slamming into your shoulder on their way.

Flying sideways into Seungcheol, he immediately pulls you by the arm to his other side, out of the way, before a second kid racing past could run into you as well.

“Oi!” Seungcheol barks after them, “Watch where you’re going!” He turns back to you, and goes to put a hand on your shoulder, before curling it into a fist and awkwardly dropping it to his side.

“Are you okay?” Concern laces his words.

You lie straight through your teeth, “Yeah, I’m fine.” There’s a dull ache in your shoulder, your heart won’t stop racing, and you feel like you’re going to vomit.

Seungcheol looks unconvinced while you breathe through your nose, trying to steady your heart by counting backward from 10.

At 7, someone else bumps into your back, causing you to stumble into Seungcheol’s chest, top of your head knocking against his chin. Seungcheol curses angrily under his breath as his hand flies to your shoulder to steady you. When you look up at him, he’s got his eyebrows knitted in that signature furrow, and he asks softly, “You okay?”

You think you nod, but you’re not sure, your eyes going out of focus. What you do know is that the monster crawling through your stomach is making you feel sick and you want Seungcheol to just make it stop. Through your cloudy mind, you feel Seungcheol’s hand travel down to grasp yours. His hand is warm, gentle, and you can feel callouses on the pads of his palm.

Then, he’s leading you through the crowd, muttering to himself, “No sense of personal space.” His fingers lace with yours and he’s got a firm hold as he looks above the heads in the crowd, trying to find the best path through the crowd.

The crawling feeling still sits in the pit of your stomach. But now, it’s accompanied by another feeling. An unfamiliar one. Stomachache? No. Anxiety? Also no.

Comfort? Maybe.

You try to shake the feeling, and Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tightens, bringing you closer into his side.

The two of you make it to Scrivenshaft’s in one piece—surprising, since you’re sure Seungcheol’s laser eyes should’ve burned through someone —and Seungcheol opens the door, bell tinkling above, leading you both into warmth.

Inside, it’s as though you can breathe again. Seungcheol huffs and, as if only just now noticing he was holding your hand, quickly shakes it off.

His glasses fog up from the rise in temperature and he runs a hand through his hair, scrambling to apologize, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked. Didn’t mean to—I’m sorry. It’s just the crowd and you—who just runs like that? Without looking where they’re going?”

Seungcheol’s chest heaves up and down, he’s breathing so hard, rushing to get his words out. He wipes at his glasses with the edge of his sleeve.

You make an attempt to calm him down, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s fi—”

But Seungcheol is quick to interrupt, “I wasn’t thinking. But, there was just so many people.” His eyes are wide and erratic, you’ve never seen him like this before. “I would never, not without ask—”

“Seungcheol,” you place a hand on his arm. “Seungcheol, it’s fine. I’m okay. Thank you.”

This seems to give Seungcheol pause.

“I’m okay,” you repeat.

He swallows, choosing his next words carefully. Voice barely a whisper, he says, “You know I would never force you to—”

You squeeze his arm and he freezes, “Seungcheol, I know. It’s fine. It’s okay.”

You were not fine, and you definitely were not okay. Your heart felt as though it was going to pump straight out of your chest, there’s a buzzing in your head, and skipping breakfast? The best decision you’d made this morning with how your stomach was churning. However, none of that was because of Seungcheol.

Seungcheol. The way his eyebrows are drawn together in concern. The intent way he’s looking at you, like he wants to say something, but just doesn’t know how.

You don’t understand why he was even this upset. Not when even you weren’t that pressed about this. You knew what was wrong with you, you were used to this. What, was everyone supposed to automatically know and always move out of your way? That’s irrational. You might as well never leave your room at that point.

Out of nowhere, a burst of confidence, or insanity, courses though you, and you reach up to put a hand on his cheek. His cheeks are warm. Much warmer than your ice cold fingers.

Seungcheol puts his hand over yours, encapsulating it in his warmth, and you resist the urge to pull away.

He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. His eyebrows unfurl and you can feel his jaw unclench.

When he opens his eyes back up, you both drop your hands. Seungcheol looks a little sheepish now, the redness in his cheeks extending to his ears.

“Can I—” he mumbles something incoherent.

“What?”

He looks to your hand, rubbing the back of his neck, and whispers, barely audible, “Is it okay if I hold your hand?”

You don’t answer him. Not with your words at least. Instead, you silently take his hand in yours.

Again, you’d be lying if you said it felt good. It didn’t. But you wanted this. Not the feeling of the monster in your stomach trying to crawl its way up, or the dizzying way your mind clouds over. But to be able to hold Seungcheol’s hand. At least for the moment. At least, until it became unbearable.

The bell on the front door tinkles as someone walks through and Seungcheol pulls you into his chest, out of their way. A hand comes up to caress the back of your head and you look up at him.

“What was it you needed to get here?” Seungcheol’s voice is tender, and quiet enough that you’re sure only you can hear him. His face is so close that, if you were to rise up on your tiptoes, just a little bit, you could close the gap and kiss him. That is, if you wanted to. And if he did too. But neither of you do.

There’s a waver to your voice can’t stop when you answer him, “S-scrapbook material.”

He doesn’t comment on it though. “For scrap-booking?” He asks.

No, for playing Quidditch, you instantly want to bite back, but you don’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, you silently nod.

“Well then, lead the way Princess,” Seungcheol says softly, looking straight into your eyes. You nod.

Down the narrow aisles you go, hand still clasped around his. Somewhere past the bound journals, between the pens and coloured parchment, his fingers lace with yours, the warmth of his palm anchoring you past your unease.

You pick up some stamps with your free hand, turning them over to look at the rubber designs. Then, you move onto the coloured parchment where you struggle to sift through the pages. Seungcheol wordlessly grabs the stamps from your hand so you can browse through the papers better.

“So, you scrapbook. Got any other secret hobbies you want to tell me about,” Seungcheol asks. He leans against the shelf, some of the paper crinkling beneath his shoulder, lightly swinging your hands between the two of you.

“Not a secret. You never asked.” You rifle past the solid colours, making your way into the funky patterns. “And it’s not a hobby, just once a year for Christmas, as a gift to Soonyoung.”

He stops swinging your hands. “How come I don’t get a scrapbook?” He pouts.

“Because I’m already making Soonyoung one.” You pull him with you as you move on to the next aisle, not finding what you want in this one. “Besides, what would I even use? I don’t have any pictures of you outside of the ones for the paper.”

“But I’m your boyfriend,” Seungcheol whines, giving your arm a little tug. “How can you make some other guy a Christmas gift, but not me?” His cheeks puff up in annoyance.

You find a parchment set you like and try to shimmy your hand out of Seungcheol’s hold to pick it up. He doesn’t give up his iron grip though. You huff, “He’s not just some guy, Seungcheol, he’s my best friend.”

Seungcheol grumbles something you don’t fully catch, but it sounds a lot like “Yeah, but he’s not your boyfriend.”

Seungcheol is silent for the rest of your time in Scrivenshaft’s. It’s not a tense silence, but a comfortable one. He’s quiet as he dutifully carries your things to the counter. Quiet, as he holds your bag open for you to drop your purchases in, never once letting go of your other hand in the process.

Once outside, Seungcheol breaks his silence, “Where to next, Princess?”

You bite your lip, pondering. Seungcheol looks away, out into the sun. “Those were the only things I needed to do,” you say. Your errands were not extensive today.

“What about Honeydukes?” Seungcheol points down the street towards the sweet shop. “Do you need to restock your sweets?”

Your eyes follow Seungcheol’s finger morosely. You did need sugar quills, you were completely out, had been for a while now. But, you also needed to save coin, potion ingredients didn’t pay for themselves.

You shake your head, “No, I’m all set. If we go, I’ll just be tempted.” You can’t help the dejection in your voice.

Seungcheol’s where to next, princess? dauntingly echoes through your head. Where to next, indeed. Seungcheol may have said he’d go anywhere you wanted today, even seemed excited for it, but surely he wasn’t expecting to just be taken on errands?

You were boring. You’d also never had the task of taking someone on a date, not that this was one at this point.

The joke shop? No, you still hadn’t rid of the embarrassment from the last time you saw Seungcheol there. Besides, he said he goes there with his friends. You doubt he’d take a romantic partner there.

Shrieking shack? Seungcheol doesn’t strike you as the haunted house type.

Three broomsticks? You were already planning to meet Soonyoung there later this afternoon. No, you need something different.

Hogs head? If you’re being honest, that place gave you the creeps.

What you needed was some place students take each other on dates. A normal place. Somewhere preferably public, that other students would visit too. Somewhere everyone would see you, a place to incite the gossip train. A place that, if students were to see you, would immediately think ah, those two must be on a date.

It hits you. Of course. You know just the place.

The pink decor of Madam Pudifoot’s is still as vomit inducing as it was last time.

The two of you are seated at a small table in the center of the teashop. Seungcheol tries to awkwardly fit his thick legs under the tiny table, but he keeps bumping his knees into it. He looks on with caution at the walls covered in puce paint, side eyeing the rosewood pink curtains that hang ominously from the ceilings.

One of the waitstaff comes by to take your orders. “I’ll have a cup of tea please,” Seungcheol says. You try to be discreet and shake your head at him, but Seungcheol doesn’t take the hint.

When the waiter turns to you next, you pass on the tea. “I’ll take a coffee,” you say. This time, you know better.

“Any cream or sugar?”

“Both, please.” The waiter scribbles on their little notepad. “Can I also get a slice of cake, please?” You add on. Perhaps not the best thing for an empty stomach, but you desperately needed something sweet after the morning you’ve had.

“Absolutely. We’ll have that out soon.” They snap their fingers twice and a little cherub flies by, tossing golden confetti over you and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol looks like he’s about to cry as he shakes the confetti out of his hair and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

When the drinks arrive, Seungcheol takes a sip, and winces from the acrid taste. He clears his throat, “So, you, um, like coming to this place?”

“I guess you don’t know,” you say haughtily, “but this is the hip place to take your dates.” You take a sip of your own drink, and hold back the urge to spit it out. It has a bitter aftertaste, as though the coffee beans were burned.

Seungcheol quirks an eyebrow up, “Is it now?” He has an amused smile but you’re not finding anything funny.

The slice of cake you ordered is dry and lacks any sort of sweetness. Yet, you still shovel in a big bite, letting it stick to the top of your mouth as you chew, barring you from answering.

Seungcheol has all but abandoned his weak tea on the table. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s leaning back, watching as you down your bitter coffee to wash down the dry cake, hiding your gags in between. He shakes his wrist out, turning his watch to look at the time, “All done?”

Launching yourself over the table, you grab at Seungcheol’s wrist, tugging it towards you. Seungcheol’s caught off guard, swiftly putting out his other hand to brace himself against the table, trying not to faceplant into his cold tea. You turn his wrist over, so you can see the face of his watch. “We should get going, I told Soonyoung we’d meet him at the Three Broomsticks.” You drop his hand unceremoniously to the table with a thunk and get up to grab your robes and scarf off the back of the chair.

Seungcheol winces as he half falls onto the table, elbow barely missing his abandoned cup of tea. “We need to work on using your words, Princess,” he mutters, grabbing your bag from the ground and slinging it over his head

“What’s that?” You’re not looking at him, instead struggling with wrapping his scarf back around your neck, getting your hair stuck in between the layers.

Seungcheol comes around the table, planting himself in front of you. He swats your hands away and they fall, limp, to your side, as he unwraps the scarf and begins re-wrapping it properly.

“Next time, try Hey Seungcheol, what time is it?” He’s careful to make sure your hair doesn’t get caught, wrapping the scarf snug enough so you stay warm, but not so tight its suffocating. “Or maybe, Seungcheol, can I please take a look at your watch?” He pulls your robes closed over the end of the scarf, clasping the buckle, and smoothing his hands out over your shoulders. “Does that sound good to you?“

You swallow at nothing and bury your nose into his scarf, nodding shyly. Hints of grass and bergamot flood your senses, and as the two of you head outside into the cold, you can’t tell if your ears burn pink from the temperature, or from Seungcheol.

A flurry of snow has started up again, covering everything outside with a fresh new coat of white. It blows into your face with every gust of wind, and by the time you and Seungcheol make it to Three Broomsticks, you’re shivering to your bones.

“You head on inside, find Soonyoung,” Seungcheol says, “I need to go do something first.”

“Y-y-ou want me t-to come with you?” Your teeth chattering with every word.

“Don’t worry about me,” He opens the door to the pub and pushes you through. “Go on, warm up, I’ll be quick. Promise.” And with that, he shuts the door behind you.

The warmth of the pub immediately melts you, from your head down to your toes, and you go to find Soonyoung. He seated in the back, by the roaring fire, at a circle table with Raveena.

“Madam Wallflower!” booms Soonyoung as you approach them. “Nice of you to join us,” he says, tipping an invisible hat at you.

“As always, Sir Hoshi.” You tip your own nonexistent cap back while pulling out a chair across from them.

Soonyoung looks behind you, “Where’s the boyfriend?”

“Said he had something to do,” you shrug, “He’ll be here soon. What’re you two up to then?”

Raveena’s got a parchment on the table with scribbles of boxes all over. “The layout for the next issue.” She glares at Soonyoung, “Hoshi here thinks the front page should be Professor Hildred’s sacking.” Turning back to you, she says, “Please tell him that no one wants to hear about that old cod, and that it’s a page three at best.”

“He’d been stealing multiple paintings at the school undetected for years,Pudding,” Soonyoung throws out. “This is like, the story of the year.”

“Oh shut up.” Raveena points to you with her quill, “Wallflower and Golden Boy are closer to being story of the year than some old guy trying to make a quick coin. Speaking of—” Raveena flourishes her quill at you, “we’d still love to interview you two if you’ll let us.”

You lean over and snatch the quill out of Raveena’s hand, “In your dreams, Pudding.” You’d rather die than let yourself be interviewed for the Whistler, for your relationship of all things. “And put that away you two, before someone sees it. I’m going to go get something to drink, you two want anything?“

Raveena lets out an offended scoff before grabbing her quill back and shoving it, and the parchment, into her bag.

“Can you get me a butterbeer, Wallflower?“ Soonyoung rummages in his pocket and hands you a few sickles.

You salute, “Sure thing Boss.“

The hot chocolate you get warms you right up. Along with the hot, ever burning fireplace, you’re toasty and cozy, listening on as Raveena and Soonyoung chatter (and squabble) amongst themselves. One hot chocolate turns into two, then into three, till you’re indulging on your fourth.

“Boo,” someone whispers by your ear and you jump in your seat, nearly dropping your mug in your lap.

Seungcheol’s standing behind you, eyes crinkled into half moons, biting down a smile. He seems to be holding something behind his back.

“What the hell, Seungcheol,” you grumble, wiping your hands of the little bit of hot chocolate that had spilled.

“Aw, don’t be upset, Princess.” He grins, taking a seat next to you, “Look, I come bearing a gift.”

You perk up at the word gift, wiping at your lips with your sleeve, “A gift? For me?”

He brings a box out from behind his back, the gleam of silver instantly recognisable.

You dive for the box, “Sugar quills!” And Seungcheol lets it go with ease. He looks on endearingly as you examine it with awe, turning it over in your hands. “How did you kn—”

Seungcheol grabs the edge of your chair, pulling it close next to his, and you yelp, hugging the box tight against your chest. His face is mere centimeters from yours, but he’s not looking at you, he’s looking behind you. You turn to see Wonwoo walking up with two butterbeers in hand. He sets one down in front of Seungcheol and takes a seat on your other side. When you turn back around, Seungcheol’s face is still dangerously close to yours.

“Do you like it, Princess?“ Seungcheol whispers, draping an arm over the back of your chair.

You avoid his eyes, wrapping your arms tighter around the box, “How did you know I was out?” You had been out for weeks.

“You said so,” he doesn’t take his eyes away from yours, lips curling into a sweet smile, “last time.”

“Last time?”

Seungcheol cocks his head, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head. “When we were at Honeydukes. You said you needed sugar quills.”

He remembered that? “Thank you,” you breathe out and Seungcheol grins again, satisfied.

“Hey Wallflower, can I have one?” Soonyoung asks from across the table.

You frown and fiercely shake your head, “No, it’s for me,” turning away from him with the box. Raveena lets out a cackle as Soonyoung looks affronted.

“Here, I’ll put it away for you,” Seungcheol gently pries the box out of your tightly wrapped arms, sticking it inside your bag. He settles back into his seat, arm not leaving the back of your chair.

Your heart ticks up a little, slowly rising in bpm, and you pick up your mug, downing the warm hot chocolate in one chug, hoping to have it calm you down.

Seungcheol leans over and whispers, “Want another?” Any attempt at lowering your heartrate is quashed.

Your stare down at your empty mug, chewing your bottom lip. It’s not like its coffee, surely another couldn’t hurt. You nod shyly at Seungcheol and he breaks into the widest smile. Then he does the strangest thing. He softly bumps his head into yours, like a baby goat headbutting, before getting up.

You sink into your seat, letting half your face bury into your scarf. Embarrassment warms your cheeks, but one look around the table has you realising that not a single person is paying you two any attention.

Seungcheol comes back with a piping hot mug of hot chocolate, setting it down in front of you with a soft here you go, love, and taking a seat, arm going right back up to drape across the back of your chair.

The mug radiates warmth against your palms as you hold it between your hands. Seungcheol must’ve cozied up to Madam Rosemerta because there’s a massive dollop of whipped cream on top, more than you’ve ever received. You blow a steady puff of air, the whipped cream fluttering, and take a sip. The hot liquid scalds your tongue and you hiss at the burn, setting the mug down with a clatter.

Seungcheol brings his hand up against the back of your head, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, flustered. “It was just really hot.”

“Careful,” says Seungcheol, stroking at your hair with his thumb before resting his arm back on your chair. You simply nod, picking your mug back up to blow on it once more, hoping to cool it down enough to take another sip.

As the afternoon goes on, you find yourself sinking further and further into the warm scarf wrapped around your neck, and into Seungcheol’s side. You’re not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel warmth radiate off him. He also keeps buying you hot chocolates, filling you up with the warm liquid, making you feel cozy, and sleepy.

When you yawn for the tenth time in the span of minutes, Seungcheol decides to call it.

“I think we’re gonna head back to the castle,” he says, standing up and slinging your bag over his head, “It’s been a long day for us.”

He sticks a hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you up and out of your chair. You bid everyone your goodbyes, stifling another yawn behind your hand.

“Alright, come on sleepy head, lets get you to bed,” Seungcheol leads you outside, and you let him pull you along the path back to the castle.

He walks you up to your tower and, again, you don’t push back this time. You’re too content and full of hot chocolate to argue.

At the door of the Ravenclaw dorm, you start to take off Seungcheol’s scarf, but he stops you.

“Keep it,” he says, loosely winding it back around your neck.

You roll your eyes, “Seungcheol, I have scarves.”

“I don’t doubt you do. But keep it anyways. Wear it to my game next week.” He pauses for a moment. “You are coming right?”

Ah yes, the highly anticipated, for reasons unknown to you, Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match.

You push out your lower lip in a pout, “Do I have to go?” A hint of a whine slips through.

“Yes?” Seungcheol acts like you’ve asked him if can pumpkin’s can feel pain.

You refuse to let the stupid sport ruin your hot chocolate induced high, so you muster out a curt, “Fine. I’ll be there, I guess.”

“Okay, sound at least a little excited. I’m not forcing you to your execution,” says Seungcheol as he slips your bag over your head.

“Might as well be,” you mutter under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you straighten up, pulling on your bag strap. “Game. Next week. Wear the scarf. I’ll be there.” You throw up two unenthusiastic thumbs up as your eyes flutter shut for a second from drowsiness.

Seungcheol ruffles your hair, smiling and eye crinkling smile when you weakly swat him away with a glare. He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, “Alright, head in, get some rest.”

You hit the knocker and answer the riddle, opening up the door.

“And Princess?”

You turn to look at him, fighting back another yawn.

“I had a lot of fun today,” he says, adding softly, “Best date ever.”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, and mumble a quiet thanks, before hurrying through the door, shutting it behind you.

After the Hogsmeade trip, a unspoken barrier seems to have broken between you and Seungcheol.

Hands held fleetingly in the hallway.

The briefest of touches to the middle of your back when walking to class.

A head falling on your shoulder at lunch because Seungcheol just can’t stop laughing.

A leg pressed oh so lightly against yours under the library table.

You welcomed it, really. Every time, with every touch, it got harder and harder for the monster to crawl up out of your gut. Always with Seungcheol though. Only with Seungcheol.

There are moments, sometimes, when he’s not there, where you find yourself seeking his touch. Almost like you crave it. Missing the warmth with which his hands encapsulate yours, grounding you in way no one else ever has.

It feels absurd. Wrong, almost. But in the days leading up to the Quidditch game, you barely see Seungcheol outside of class, save for a few meals and some brief study sessions, and you hated it. Seungcheol had somehow become a constant in your daily routine, and when he’s not there you feel as though there’s an absence, a void that needed to be filled.

It was driving you mad.

Disappointment welcomes you with open arms the morning of the game. Soonyoung informs you that Seungcheol has already gone down to the pitch to prepare for today’s game. Raveena and Chan exchange a look when your face falls.

You’re wearing Seungcheol’s scarf, just like he told you to, and he’s not even here for you to show him.

“Supporting your boyfriend, eh?” Soonyoung says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up Hoshi,” you mutter, grabbing a piece of toast and spreading jam on it like it had personally offended you and you were seeking revenge against gluten. Messily shovelling it into your mouth in one go, you grab Soonyoung’s copy of today’s Daily Prophet. The crossword brings you comfort and solace, and as you solve through the clues, you feel your annoyance begin to ebb away.

Raveena waves a bottle of syrup at Chan, “Why’ve you got a camera Dino?”

One of your old cameras hangs around Chan’s neck as he chows down on some pancakes.

Raveena swings the bottle around to point at you, “Are you not taking photos today?”

You shake your head with a disgusted look, “Merlin, no.” If it weren’t for Seungcheol, you wouldn’t be stepping foot anywhere near the Quidditch pitch.

“I don’t get it,” Raveena squeezes so much syrup over her plate of scrambled eggs and toast that they begin swimming in it. Soonyoung pushes his plate away from hers as the syrup threatens to spill over. “What exactly is your issue with Quidditch.”

“No issue. Sports are just not my thing.” You spread a generous amount of jam on another slice of toast. “Say, what exactly is the big deal about today’s game? I keep hearing everyone say it’s really important but you people say that about every game.”

“Oh Wallflower,” Soonyoung lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in sorrow. You flick some jam at him and it lands on his cheek. He makes no move to wipe it off. “What’s the use of all that studying if you don’t even know the basics of the most important sport in the world.”

“If it’s sooo important, then why is it not more interesting. Hm? Someone want to explain that?” You look expectantly at your friends.

Soonyoung throws his hands in the air, letting his fork and knife drop to his plate with a clatter. “I can’t with her,” he says to Raveena and Chan across the table. “I can’t. Would somebody else like to do the honours? Dino perhaps?” Soonyoung motions to the young boy.

Chan freezes mid chew, then swallows before answering, “Uh, not really, no?”

Raveena rolls her eyes and explains in his steed, “We, Ravenclaw, already won our match against Slytherin. Our, Ravenclaw’s, next match is against Hufflepuff. You following so far Wallflower?”

“Sure.”

Raveena continues, “Today, Gryffindor, your boyfriend’s team, is playing Hufflepuff.”

Every time Soonyoung and Raveena refer to Seungcheol as your boyfriend, it sends a chill down your back. You hated lying to them, they’re your best friends, and you have to hold back the urge to correct them.

“If Gryffindor beats Hufflepuff, it means that we, Ravenclaw, can beat them. If we beat Hufflepuff, well then, they’ve got two losses under their belt going into the Slytherin game and the path to the cup is basically clear for us.”

Raveena might as well have been speaking Gobbledegook because you don’t think you understood any of that.

“Sorry, how does Gryffindor winning today mean that Ravenclaw will win our next one?” You refrain from sounding too skeptical.

“Becauff their tweam is hortheshite,” pipes up Chan, mouth full of pancake.

“Who raised you, mate? Don’t talk with you mouth full.” Raveena eyes Chan with revulsion. “What caveman here is trying to say is, they lost some big players this year. The team’s just not that good right now.”

You wanted to say you understood. Nod along, and say everything made perfect sense. But frankly, you were more confused than before.

Soonyoung lets out a frustrated huff, “Basically, if Gryffindor wins today, you guys are gonna win the whole thing.”

“But how do you know that? You’re not psychics. Witches and wizards or not, you can’t just magically know things.” This is why you didn’t bother with sports. No logic. No standards. Simply running on pure whimsy and vibes. Soonyoung shrugs in response, not offering you anything more.

The corridors are crowded as you all make your way down to the pitch. Droves of students are heading down as well, hoping to get a good seat. You do your best to side step the students, but there’s too many of them, and you can’t stop them from grazing your shoulder or bumping into your side.

By the time Raveena’s lead your group to the Ravenclaw section and you lot have found some empty seats, you’re already feeling a little sick. Wedged in between Raveena and Chan, you do your best to countdown yourself out of spiralling.

Jeonghan’s voice booms across the field, “Welcome to another Hogwarts Quidditch game. Today’s match, Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor!”

There’s a roar of applause as the two teams fly out and begin making circles around the pitch. Beside you, Chan and Raveena erupt into yells as players in red fly past.

While this wasn’t your first game, you hadn’t been to one in several years. You’d forgotten how small everyone looks on the pitch, and trying to pick out Seungcheol turns out to be much more difficult than you expected.

Gloomy clouds fill the skies as snow begins to lightly fall. Though you’d never admit it to Seungcheol, his scarf keeps you warm, and you bury your red nose into it, letting the smell of him flood your senses.

Raveena and Chan, bless their hearts, do their best to explain the game as it goes on.

“See those three?” Raveena points to the opposite side of the pitch, “They’re chasers, they try to get that big ball through those hoops. The one guarding the hoops? That’s a keeper, they try to stop the ball from going through.”

A few players by the far hoops are throwing a big red ball between themselves.

“Why do some of them have bats?” You blow on your hands, but your breath does absolutely nothing to warm them up, and you try rubbing them together to create some heat.

Chan leans over, “Those are beaters. They hit bludgers, the balls zooming around the field, at the opposing team.”

“They want to hit the other team?” One of the ones in yellow takes a hard swing at a bludger, sending it hurtling towards a player in red.

“Ooh, that’s a close one,” Jeonghan’s voice echoes through the stadium, “Chaser Seokmin Lee, dodges a nasty bludger from Riley Macint—and Elias Bucket gets a Quaffle in.” His voice slides into a deadpan, “That’s 10 points to Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff leads, 40 to 0.”

“See that one over there?” Chan points and you squint trying to follow his finger, “The one in red holding a bat? That’s your boyfriend.” You spot him, barely. He’s brandishing his bat around, yelling something that you’re too far away to decipher. If he wasn’t wearing a cap and goggles, you’d bet 10 galleons his eyebrows are intensely furrowed right now.

“Seungcheol is a beater?” There’s a gasp from the crowd as a Hufflepuff hits another bludger at Seokmin, and this time it makes full contact with his broom, sending him corkscrewing through the air.

“He was originally a chaser, and a really good one at that,” says Raveena. “But Gryffindor lost both their beaters this year and couldn’t find a second one during tryouts. Your boyfriend decided to give up his chaser position and fill in as a beater instead.”

“You don’t understand, Wallflower,” Chan cuts in. “It really rattled everything. He was such a good chaser, the best one in your year. He could’ve tried getting scouted if he wanted to. And with Mingyu and Seokmin? Those three were unstoppable. They might’ve had a chance to carry the team to the Quidditch Cup if they played together this year.”

“Why wouldn’t he just put someone else in as beater?” It made absolutely no sense to you. “If he was so good, why give up his position like that?”

“Guess he felt it was easier to train another chaser? No one knows, really,” Raveena shrugs.

“Well, how are they doing now?” You gesture to the field.

Jeonghan’s voice echoes over the pitch again, devoid of any emotion, “And that’s another goal from Bucket, Hufflepuff leads, 50-0.”

Boos erupt from the audience around you and Raveena groans, “Not well Wallflower, not well.”

You try to follow Jeonghan’s commentary along with what’s happening on the pitch, but the snow is coming down harder, making it more difficult to see what’s going on. Also, truth be told, you still really don’t understand how Quidditch works.

You’ve clearly missed something as the crowd on the other side of the field goes wild, roaring in cheers. “What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“Hufflepuff’s seeker just caught the snitch, Gryffindor just lost,” Chan says glumly. He clicks his camera to take some final snaps of the Hufflepuff team members circling the pitch.

Further down below, the Gryffindor team players touch down on the ground. You try to single out Seungcheol in the lot but, from this far away, everyone looks like little red ants.

The other students in your section begin to file down and out of the stands. You and your friends follow behind them as the crowd quietly begins their way back to the castle, shoulders downturned, devoid of any cheer.

Once inside the castle, you turn to your friends, “You lot go on ahead, I’m going to go find Seungcheol.”

They all nod in understanding and you head in the opposite direction, down the corridor towards the changing rooms.

You weren’t as familiar with this part of the castle. With your hands clean of anything concerning Quidditch, there was never any reason for you to be by the locker rooms. Perhaps, on occasion, if you were tailing someone from a team, or if someone you were tailing was hooking up with someone on a team. Point is, it was a rarity for you to be in this part of the castle.

It feels as though you’re lost, as you travel down corridors that seem to be heading nowhere of use. However, you’re positive you’re heading in the right direction. You may not be here much, but you know Hogwarts castle like the back of your hand.

Eventually, you come to a series of four wooden doors, etched with a winged circle and two bats behind it like an X. You find the one with a roaring lion insignia above the door handle, and are debating whether or not to knock first, when the door opens and Seokmin walks out.

He’s startled to see you there, your hand raised in a fist, ready to knock. “Hi,” he looks behind himself, then back at you, “You here for Captain?”

You nod, “Is he in there?”

Seokmin purses his lips, “This . . . is probably not the best time. Maybe you should come find him later?”

Your forehead wrinkles in confusion, “Later?” Seokmin was trying to ward you off, but why, you didn’t understand.

He puts up zero fight, “Your funeral, I guess.” And, though not looking too happy about it, holds the door open for you and motions his head inside, “I think he’s trying to drown himself in the shower.”

Inside, there are a few tables and benches, set up almost like a mini classroom, with a chalkboard in front. Brooms line the wall on one side, and on the other, an open doorway with no door.

You tentatively walk through to find yourself in the changing room. There are more benches, this time lower to the ground, scattered through the center of the room and kits stuffed into cubbies that line the walls around. A lone pink bottle of Ginevra Suds A Lot looks like it’s rolled across the floor, abandoned under one of the benches.

Through another doorless doorway, you can hear the sound of a shower running, steam billowing out. Eyeing the small stack of fresh clothes on one of the benches, you decide it’s best to wait for Seungcheol in the team room.

You take a seat on one of the benches. Someone carved GRYFFINDOR RULES, RAVENCLAW DROOLS into the wood of the table, and you smooth a finger over each letter.

The sound of the shower stops and metal ringlets clash against a wooden rod as a shower curtain is drawn. There’s silence, some shuffling, then Seungcheol walks in through the doorway into the team room.

He’d changed out of his quidditch kit, and into a comfortable grey hooded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. His hair, freshly washed, is sopping wet and drips water droplets onto his hoodie, leaving dark grey spots wherever they land. In his hand, he holds his (you’re assuming it’s his?) broom.

Seungcheol freezes when he spots you. “Oh,” his voice is uncharacteristically flat, “You’re here.”

“Hi.” You lift a hand up in an awkward wave, letting it drop limply into your lap when Seungcheol’s face stays stoic. “Yeah, I came to the game.” Seungcheol doesn’t respond, silently walking over to the wall to lock his broom in. “Go Gryffindors,” you cheer lamely, shaking up the end of his scarf like a pom-pom.

“Great,” he says brusquely. “That’s just great.”

“Are you okay Seungcheol?” you furrow your eyebrows in concern. This was entirely unlike him.

He won’t even look at you when he answers. “I’m fine,” he bites out. “Fantastic.”

“Well, you don’t seem fine.” You’re confused. Utterly and unbelievably confused.

“Wow, I wonder why.” He turns just enough for you to see him roll his eyes. “Look, I was kind of hoping to be alone right now. Why are you even here?”

You’re aghast, voice rising, “Why am I even here?”

Seungcheol doesn’t wait for you to continue, abruptly walking out through the main door.

You follow him out into the deserted corridor. “You’re the one that asked me to come!” You spit out. You’d even worn his stupid dumb fucking scarf, just like he’d asked. “I didn’t even want to be here!” Your shriek turns into a cough and Seungcheol turns around just in time to see you start hacking into your elbow. Sitting outside in the snow for so long did not do great things for your throat.

Seungcheol stalls, a wave of concern washing over his face. He looks as though he wants to say something, maybe reach a hand out, but in a flash it’s gone, his face flat once more, and he’s left wearing a vacant expression.

There’s no warmth in his eyes when he says, “Yeah? Then maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

You don’t know why he was being so cruel, and you take a step towards him, “Seungcheol—”

He takes an uneven step back. “Why are you still here? I don’t want you here,” he says, contemptuous.

At his harsh words, tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “Because I’m—” You’re what? His girlfriend?

You’re not his girlfriend. And this isn’t real.

“Because I wanted to support my friend. But he’s being a fucking dick.” With that, you turn on your foot, leaving Seungcheol alone in the corridor.

You wipe at the stray tears escaping down your cheek. If none of this is real, why do you feel an ache in your chest?

Maturity has never been your strong suit.

Once, in your third year, Soonyoung put a frog from Transfiguration class in your school bag, as a joke. In return, you poured frogs blood all over his brand new Gobstones set.

Last year, Chan broke your camera, the once you specifically told him to never touch or you would curse his fingers off. You wouldn’t speak to him for three whole days.

When Raveena ate the last of your sugar quills in the newsroom (they were in a charmed drawer marked DO NOT TOUCH), you stopped coming to the newsroom for almost a month.

As far as you were concerned, Maturity was one class you were never going to pass.

You begin to avoid Seungcheol for the next few days. Which, by the way, is hard because the boy’s in every one of your damn classes. But, you did what a Wallflower does best, you meld yourself into the background, the metaphorical walls so to speak, and disappear like a shadow.

Seungcheol does try to catch your attention, once, after a History of Magic class.

It played out almost comically anticlimactic.

In all your classes, you have been finding a seat as far away from Seungcheol as possible. Easy in classes with Soonyoung, as you and Seungcheol wouldn’t sit together in those. Harder in others, as the two of you had started to share tables ever since your deal.

This particular period of Binns’ class is no different. You find a seat, alone, and a mere row from the door, perfect for an easy exit. On the other hand, Seungcheol is seated rows ahead of you, at the front of the class.

When the bell rings, Seungcheol quickly gets up, making his way through the rows to the back of the class. Through to you. You’re too quick for him though, already having had your things put away, slinging your bag over your head, and racing out the door, into the crowd of students.

Once in the hallway, you knew you shouldn’t, but you can’t help but glance behind you to see if Seungcheol’s following. You see him come out of the classroom in a frazzled frenzy, frantically looking around until he finds and locks eyes with you. Determined, he pushes up his glasses and makes his way to you through the sea of students.

But you, you know how to blend into a crowd, and soon enough, you’ve put so many students between you and him that, by the time he wades through all of them and comes out the other side, you’re long gone.

For the past week, your dark room has been your source of comfort. You’ve been holing up in there so that no one (read: seungcheol) could find you. There’s a large backlog of film for you to develop though, and it serves as a good distraction. Besides, this is where you used to live. Before any of this. Before Seungcheol. In the past, if you weren’t in class, you were out taking photos, and if you weren’t taking photos, you were in here, developing them.

You prefer this, anyhow. Whispers are starting to travel amongst the students, as it quickly tends to around Hogwarts. The way people watch you in the hallways, staring, then ducking their head to whisper with their friends when you catch their eye. You know they’re talking about you and Seungcheol.

Courtesy of Soonyoung, you’ve been also taking your meals in the newsroom. With print day for the next issue looming closer, he doesn’t question it, just brings in food from the great hall twice a day.

Today, the newsroom is a full house. Soonyoung’s called in a meeting to get prepared for print day, and every member of the paper is present.

“As you all are aware, we are a little under two weeks away from the next issue.” Soonyoung and you are sitting up on a table, legs dangling off the ground. The rest of the team have pulled up chairs in front of you, like an audience. “What’s everyone working on? And anything I or Wallflower can do to help?”

Your team writes well under the pressure of a deadline, but Soonyoung still likes to know what to expect for the upcoming paper spread. He likes to be as prepared as possible.

Soonyoung looks around the team and points to Eunchae, a spunky little witch in the very front, “How about we start with you, Cactus.”

Eunchae chews obnoxiously on some droobles gum, making a smacking noise when her lips touch with a pop. “I’m working on an article about someone switching out the soap in the prefects bathroom with muggle laundry detergent.”

“Okay, good. Hoshi likes that one,” Soonyoung says, noting it down on his parchment. “Alright, who’s next?”

Chan meekly raises his hand.

Soonyoung points his quill at the boy, “Go on Dino, what’ve you got?”

“I’m working on tracking down all the paintings Professor Hildred stole.” Chan looks down at his notes, “What they are, how much they’re worth, and, if possible, how much he sold them for. My father works at the Ministry so I may be able to get some information out of him.”

“Great,” Soonyoung says, “love it. Pudding? How about you go next.”

Raveena sits up, pushing her coke bottle glasses up her nose. She’s seated between Chan and Eunchae. “I am working on an article for the gossip column.”

Both you and Soonyoung perk up. She hadn’t mentioned any lead she’s been working on. You’re typically the one to sneak photos for this, so you’re doubly confused. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, you’re worried by what she’s about to say.

“I hear,” starts Raveena, “that the Hogwarts’ It Couple is currently on the rocks.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders drop and you hold your breath. “Who’s the It Couple?” He asks warily, but he, and everyone else in the room, already know the answer.

“Our own Wallflower and Head Boy Seungcheol Choi.”

Despite anticipating this, your blood runs cold.

As if the ice cold dagger Raveena has stabbed into your back wasn’t enough, she pushes it deeper in when she asks, “Will you go on the record about it? I’ll take a quote from you or Golden Boy, I’m not picky.”

Everyone is staring at you, waiting for you to respond.

“No,” you say curtly. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong between me and Seungcheol a-and—” you falter. Except that there was something wrong, and you might just be making a fool of yourself right now. You clear your throat, “There is absolutely nothing on the rocks about me and Seungcheol.”

Raveena has never been one to let a loose thread go though. She likes to pull at it and pull at it, until it’s completely unraveled, and there’s no thread left at the end.

“People are saying that, since Seungcheol lost the Quidditch game, you no longer want to be seen in public with him.” Raveena presses on, “They’re saying you two haven’t been seen together or on speaking terms in the days since the game.”

“That’s preposterous!” You laugh, but there’s no mirth. “All over a stupid game?”

“So you think Quidditch is stupid.” Raveena starts writing on her parchment.

“Stop writing that down, that’s is not me going on the record. And I would never stop speaking to Seungcheol just because of some game!”

Raveena pauses her quill, “So there’s another reason you’ve stopped speaking to Seungcheol.”

“We haven’t stopped talking!” You shriek. “You know that’s not true.” Liar. You were lying straight through your teeth.

“I actually don’t know anything of the sort. Again,” says Raveena, “are you going on record with this?”

“You can’t write about us,” you hiss out, aware of the eyes of every single person at the paper on you.

Raveena scoffs, “What do you mean we can’t write about you guys. What, you think you’re above the paper?” She’s standing now, hand on her hip, quill pointed accusingly at you. “If you won’t give a comment, fine. But don’t forget that the first article that started this paper was about you.”

You’re frozen as Raveena digs her ice dagger deeper into your back, until its sticking out of your chest.

“So maybe don’t look down on us when some of us are trying to do our bloody jobs,” Raveena snaps.

Before you could retort, and before things could get any more heated with either of you saying something you’d regret, Soonyoung interjects, hopping off the table and placing himself in front of you. “Alright everyone, let’s get back to work. I want you to give me your article outlines before you leave today.” It’s rare for the team to not listen to Soonyoung, and without contesting, everyone starts to get up, including Raveena, taking their chairs away and getting back to work.

Soonyoung turns around to face you, lips pursed, looking troubled. You don’t say anything, hopping off the table and heading into your dark room.

Soonyoung follows right behind you, catching the door when you try to slam it closed, and slipping inside the room, closing the door softly behind himself.

“Wallflower, what in gobby stones is going on with you today?”

You respond with silence, the only sound being that of the shelves and drawers you were banging around.

“Are you and Seungcheol okay? Did something happen?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, not you too.” You slam a shelf door hard enough for the entire wooden case to rattle. “We’re fine,” you bite out, “Just because we’re not attached to each other’s arse like every other couple at this school doesn’t automatically mean that something’s wrong.”

Soonyoung puts his hands up, “I’m not saying that. I’m just worried.” He chews his bottom lip, choosing his next words carefully, “Look, I haven’t asked, because you said you’d tell me if something was ever wrong.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “What are you getting at?”

Soonyoung gulps, but continues, “I’ve been bringing you your meals with no questions asked, and I’ll continue to do so. But if something’s going on, I want to know what it is.” Then quieter, in a whisper, he says, “I won’t let you shut me out, Wallflower. Not like last time. Not again.”

You swallow. It wasn’t something you liked to think about, but Soonyoung did have good reason to think that you were shutting him out again like 4th year.

In some ways, you already had, in not coming clean about the fake dating from the start. Hiding something this huge from him felt awful, a sinking feeling in your gut. A part of you wonders if now is a good moment to open Pandora’s box and tell him the truth.

“Seungcheol and I had an argument,” you start slowly. “It was after the game. But it was small, inconsequential. Since the game, we’ve both been really busy and he felt like his head duties weren’t getting completed and I felt like I was slacking at the paper, so we’re just trying to catch up. It’s left little time to spend with each other, that’s all.”

“And that’s all?” Soonyoung doesn’t look convinced.

“That’s all it is,” you say firmly.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say, irritably.

Soonyoung huffs, “Wallflower, have you ever thought of, and humour me for a moment here, talking to him about it?”

You scoff, “About what exactly?”

“See!” Soonyoung motions his hands at you, “You’re lashing out. You lashed out at Pudding, and now you’re trying to bite my head off next.”

You grit your teeth, “Get to the point, Hosh.”

“I think that whatever your little argument was about, you’re still upset about it.”

You face away from him, not responding. Your hands grip the edge of the table in front of you, knuckles turning white.

“Seriously Wallflower, whatever it is, you can’t avoid him forever. He’s your boyfriend, you have to face him eventually.”

You purse your lips, “I’ll think about it, okay? Does that satisfy you, Sir Hoshi?”

“For now.”

You roll your eyes, “Come here, help me with this set. These photo’s aren’t going to develop themselves.”

It’s been days since your talk with Soonyoung. You hadn’t made any move on his suggestion, but it lingered in the back of your mind every time you saw Seungcheol in class. As usual, you spend all your time outside of class in your dark room. Print day is a mere two days away, and most of your nights are spent in there instead of your bed.

Which is how Wonwoo find you this evening, as you’re leaving your dark room, locking the newsroom door behind you and charming it away.

He’s panting and out of breath, like he’d been running. And you think you spot a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head.

“Where the hell have you been. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak, and he sounds angry, like there should be steam coming out his ears.

“I’ve just been around.” You look up and down the hallway, but there’s no one there (and definitely no Seugncheol). “What’s going on, is something wrong?”

“Seungcheol’s in the infirmary,” he spits out and your mind goes blank.

Wonwoo begins walking, heading in the direction of the infirmary.

“What? Why?” Your legs follow after him on their own accord. “Did something happen? Is he okay?” Your questions come out in rapid succession.

Wonwoo and you both set into a light jog, and you struggle to keep up with his long legs. “No idea what’s wrong, we were having Quidditch team meeting and he just, suddenly collapsed.”

You startle while pushing the infirmary doors open and they close up again. “You’re on the Quidditch team?”

Wonwoo freezes, a questioning look on his face, “Yes? I’m their seeker.”

You shake your head and push all the way through the doors this time, stalking into the infirmary. It’s quiet, and there’s no sign of other students or Madame Pomferey.

“He’s probably overworked himself,” you grumble as you walk down the row of cots, “I knew this would happen.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything to stop it?”

“Me?” You whip around to exclaim, “And what exactly could I have done.”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“Yes, exactly. I’m his girlfriend, not his mother.” Additionally, you mutter, “Also have you tried getting that boy to do something he doesn’t want to.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, “Well, I also know you haven’t talked to him in weeks.”

This catches you off guard. “How do you know that?”

“Who doesn’t?” Wonwoo pushes his glasses up his nose. “Anyone with eyes can see it.” He gives you a look, “He also might’ve told me you’ve been avoiding him.”

“Yes, well,” you don’t meet Wonwoo’s gaze and and make your way to where you see Seungcheol, at the end of the row of beds, “That’s none of your business.”

“He wanted to apologize, you know, for how he spoke to you after the game.”

Seungcheol is asleep. Or at least, he looks like he is. His face is pale, almost grey. According to Wonwoo, Pomfrey gave him something that knocked him out into a deep sleep.

“Captain’s got a lot on his mind,” Wonwoo says, “Quidditch means a lot to him. Losing that badly? He takes all the responsibility on himself.”

“But there’s like ten other people on that team!” You try to keep you voice down, hissing a whisper, “Surely he can’t think the loss was all his fault?”

“Sounds stupid to us, but he’s the captain. To him, if he did better, then the team would’ve done better.” Wonwoo sighs, “Look, Captain . . . he’s just always been like that. Tends to take all responsibility for most things. How do you think he became Head Boy?”

You pull up a chair, taking a seat next to Seungcheol. To see his face devoid of any emotion, so still and flat, it was unsettling. It also brought you back to the last time you spoke to him, his face looked the same then.

“I don’t think he’s been sleeping much this week,” says Wonwoo. “Not that he slept much to begin with but,” Wonwoo looks at you, “he got better you know, when he started dating you. We all saw it. We think he might’ve actually started sleeping through the night again.”

Wonwoo chuckles, “He’d been going easier on us during practice too, until the game that is.”

You take one of Seungcheol’s hands into you own. It’s cold. So unlike him, to be this cold.

“He really thinks he messed it all up with you,” Wonwoo says in a hushed tone.

“What? Wonwoo, what are you talking about?” It’s like you’ve opened Pandora’s box. You’d never heard Wonwoo speak this much. Though, maybe you’d also never really given him the chance. Now that you think about it, you’ve asked Wonwoo more questions tonight than you had since you met him.

“Captain. He thinks you’re never going to forgive him. That you won’t even give him the chance to apologize because you’re already done with him.”

Wonwoo watches as you cup Seungcheol’s hand in between yours, maybe in hopes of warming it up. But your own hand just as cold, if not colder, than Seungcheol’s.

“I think you already have though,” says Wonwoo. When you look at him questioningly he adds, “Forgiven him.”

You look back down at Seungcheol, leaning over to brush his hair out of his face, lingering on his forehead, which is just as cold as his hands. “Yeah,” you breathe, “I have.”

“You know, you could’ve been in Gryffindor for how much pride you have,” Wonwoo laughs. It’s not much, but it does bring a half smile out of you.

“I can stay with him,” you tell Wonwoo. “You should go back to your dorms. Before you get in trouble for being out of bed. No one will be upset at me for sticking around and I’ll figure something out if they do.”

“And Wonwoo,” you say as he begins to leave and he turns back to look at you, “Thank you. For coming to find me.”

He sends you a small smile, “I’m just glad I was able to get to you before someone else did.” And with that he leaves the infirmary.

You place your palm fully over Seungheol’s forehead, and you think you feel Seungcheol’s eyebrow twitch, but then its gone. There’s a folded bed sheet on the cot behind you and you grab it, unfolding and laying it out over Seungcheol. Then you take a seat once more, Seungcheol’s hand back in yours again.

You watch the steady rhythmic up and down of Seungcheol’s chest as he breathes and your eyelids grow heavy as it lulls you into sleep.

When you awake, you find a fleece blanket has been thrown over your shoulders. There’s a crick in your neck as you lift your head up off the edge of the cot.

Seungcheol is sitting upright, leaned up against the headboard, and eating out of a small dish of sliced apples in his lap.

“Morning, love.” His voice is deep from unuse, and his eyes look tired as he gives you a small smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No,” you shake your head, looking around the infirmary with bleary eyes. A yawn threatens to break out of your mouth.

Seungcheol lifts his small bowl of apple, silently offering you a slice, and you decline with a soft shake of your head, still trying to gather your bearings.

After Wonwoo left, you must have fallen asleep.

There’s a silence as you realise that you’re still holding Seungcheol’s, or he’s holding yours now. His hand, wrapped softly around yours. They’re warm again, back to normal. He starts rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back of your hand, like he knows your mind is starting to race and he’s trying to calm you down.

It almost works.

Both of you break the silence at the same time.

“I’m sorry for—”

“What the hell happ—”

You both clamp your mouths shut. Then Seungcheol starts again first.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was upset, but that’s no excuse, and I should’ve never spoken to you like that.” His words aren’t rushed, not like that day at Scrivenshaft’s. This time, he apologizes calmly, gently, like he’s had time to think about exactly what he’d like to say. He then adds on, softly, “I hope you can forgive me.”

You can’t even think about what he’s saying though, your mind racing with a million other concerns, questions for Seungcheol. “Seungcheol, what happened? Wonwoo told me you haven’t been sleeping.” Seungcheol mutters something that sounds oddly like snitch, but you ignore him, continuing on. Your voice has been raising with each word and you shake your joined hands at him, “How can our Head Boy take care of us if he can’t even take care of himself?”

“Wait,” Seungcheol says, perplexed, “Is that all you have to say?”

“Seungcheol, I thought the whole point of our deal was so that you’d take more time for yourself. That includes to sleep.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows are deeply furrowed, “You don’t have anything to say about what I just said?”

You continue to ignore him, “You’re burning yourself out. You may have just passed out this time, but something really bad can happen to you if you keep this up.”

Seungcheol, exasperated, says, “Okay but, do you or do you not forgive me?”

“Seungcheol, I’m being serious,” you say, “What if something worse had—”

Seungcheol tugs you forward by the hand, and you have to brace your free hand on his chest to keep from falling on top of him entirely. You gulp as he brings his face mere centimeters from yours.

“Princess, do you,” he enunciates every word carefully, “or do you not, forgive me?” He’s looking straight into your eyes and you stare right back into his, losing yourself in the deep brown, amber flecked abyss. “Do you?” He asks again

You nod back soundlessly, trying not to think about your hand still on his chest.

Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, “And do you know what you’re forgiving me for?”

“For being mean. For yelling at me.” Your voice is quiet, but firm, firmer than you were expecting it to be.

“There we are,” Seungcheol murmurs. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek. You try to shy away, but his hold is firm. He thumbs at the prominent dark bags under your eyes. “You know, you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping much either.”

“Been busy,” you mumble.

Seungcheol makes a tsking noise with his tongue, “Now that won’t do.” He rubs his thumb over your cheek, and you let him. “How about this, I’ll take better care of myself if you promise to do the same.”

“Promise to take care of you?” You ask dumbly, but full of earnest.

Seungcheol lets out a laugh, eyes crinkling. He brings his forehead to touch yours, “No silly, if you promise to take care of you.”

You close your eyes, suddenly feeling really shy, wanting very much to curl into yourself. Your noses touch, and his lips are so dangerously close to yours.

Seungcheol’s warm breath fans over your lips when he speaks again, “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you breathe out, thankful you didn’t stutter.

“Then it’s a deal,” Seungcheol presses a soft kiss to your forehead, near your hairline, and you stiffen.

He’s still delirious. Whatever Madame Pomferey gave him has clearly made him out of his mind.

Seungcheol sits back up against the headboard, “You should go, love. Poppy will let me out soon enough. I’ll come find you when she does.”

He lets go of your hand and you already miss the warmth.

History of Magic is truly one of the worst ways to start off your day. It’s a torturous class led by Professor Binns, a ghost who’s got a finger on the pulse of what Hogwarts students find interesting about as much as he’s got an actual pulse.

A slip of parchment slides over to you. You decipher the chicken scratch on it as I’m bored.

And? You write under it, sliding the parchment back over to Seungcheol, who’s seated next to you.

Something you’ve learned sitting next to Seungcheol in class is, that this kid has absolutely no sense of focus. It’s astonishing he’s ranked top of the class, you don’t know how he even gets through exams.

Entertain me :(, Seungcheol scribbles back. You make a face at his nearly unintelligible scrawl.

Pay attention!!

Its a minute or two before Seungcheol slides the parchment back. Do you hate me? Next to it, he’s drawn a rotund big eyed owl with a single tear falling out.

You roll your eyes and write a straightforward answer back, Yes.

He draws an arrow through the heart of the owl. You ignore it. He draws more arrows flying at the owl, animating them with a simple charm, and then you take the parchment from him.

Under the owl, you write a question, What are you doing tonight?

Homework? Seungcheol answers under it.

No, later, you write.

Dinner?

You huff before writing LATER again, this time underlining it three times.

Prefect rounds? He writes.

You hesitate for a moment before deciding to write down: Meet me at the astronomy tower after midnight. You aggressively slide the parchment in front of him and turn your attention back to the professor. It takes everything in you to not turn and watch Seungcheol’s reaction to your command, or to see how he’d respond back.

Seungcheol slips the parchment back in front of you, but you don’t look down at it. He shakes it softly, not wanting to make too much noise. Not that anyone was paying attention to you two in the back of the classroom.

You glance down briefly and see that at the very bottom of the parchment, he’d written What for?

You ignore the question, instead taking notes on the intricacies of the goblin wars.

Seungcheol mirrors you from earlier and huffs, underlining the What for? three times and shoving it on top of your notes.

But you don’t answer him.

The bell rings, signifying the end of class. You shove your things into your bag and turn to Seungcheol, “I’ll see you later tonight then,” not even giving him a chance to decline.

With Hildred gone, there’s no Arithmancy class until they find a substitute, and you’re essentially free for the rest of the day.

Seungcheol tries to grab your hand before you can run off, but your reflexes have been getting faster, putting even sir captain oh captain to shame. You dodge his hand, slipping out of the room and into the crowd in the corridor.

The rest of the day is spent in the newsroom. In between setting film up to develop, you go over your notes from class. Chan joins you during his lunch to help sort out the stacks and stacks of photos you have. At some point, Soonyoung brings in a tray of sandwiches from the kitchens, and then it’s back to work.

You help Soonyoung out with the layout of this issue. Moving articles and photos around. Changing type sets with simple charms.

You also strategically avoid Raveena. Still upset from the team meeting, you’ve done all you can to not cross paths with her when in the newsroom, and so far it’s worked.

Raveena writing that article felt like a betrayal. She was supposed to be on your team, so why did it feel like she was working against you. It wasn’t right.

You hear from some of the others that Raveena has decided to scrap the article altogether, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. Apparently, she has a new lead she’s working on, but has been keeping quite hush-hush about. Which is in and of itself, insane. It’s wild to start an article from scratch two days before print. And how Soonyoung has allowed it, you don’t know. How tight lipped she staying about it also worries you. You don’t trust her anymore, and it makes you sad.

With help from Chan, you manage to sort through the large stack of photos the two of you have taken the past couple weeks, and now it’s time to select the ones to use for the paper.

Chan picks out a photo he was able to snap of Professor Hildred being carted away by Ministry officials. How or when he was able to catch a shot of this you don’t know, but you can’t say you’re not a little proud of the kid.

Though he’s just a third year, you feel he’s already grown so much at the paper and you feel content in leaving the photography task to him next year.

You sift through the photos Chan took of the last Quidditch game. There’s a photo of Seungcheol, snow flurrying around him, yelling as he whacks a bludger away from himself. His goggles cover half his face, but with the way the rest of his face is scrunched up, you just know that his eyebrows have that signature furrow. Glancing to the side, you see Chan is focused on his own pile, a stack of the Halloween decorations in the Great Hall, and you slyly put the photo of Seungcheol in your robe pocket.

As the night goes on, you find yourself in front of the rolling board in the back of the newsroom, playing around with the layouts of the articles and corresponding photos. Soonyoung was busy huddled over another student’s article, line editing their finished piece.

You glance up at the clock on the wall and curse, it was nearly midnight. You do a final once over of the board, telling Chan, “Let Hoshi know I’m done looking over the mock layout, will you?”

“Where’re you headed? Bit early for you to head to bed, no?”

“Just somewhere I need to be, don’t worry about it,” you ruffle Chan’s hair and he scowls, trying to swat your hand away.

You’re able to slip out of the room without anyone else noticing and begin to make your way down the corridors, hoping there’s no patrols on the route you take back to Ravenclaw tower. You needed to grab something before you head up to the Astronomy tower to meet Seungcheol.

You sprint all the way up Ravenclaw tower, which was a harder feat than you’d expected, winded as you head inside your dorm room.

It’s dark and the girls are all in their beds. There’s a faint glow of light from Mythili’s bed, but the curtains are drawn around it, and you doubt she can hear you anyways.

You pull the soft blanket off your bed, folding and rolling it up in your hand, and then you’re off again.

You run down the stairs, through the corridors, all the way to the Astronomy tower, careful to keep your wand light not too bright as to not wake the portraits up. Being outed as a student out of bed is not how you want this night to go.

As you take breaks while climbing the stairs up to the Astronomy tower, you curse the builders of this castle. Why are there so many bloody stairs?

At the top of the tower, you smell the fresh air and the cool breeze feels nice on your overheating skin. The skies are clear today, and you thank Merlin for that, as it is jut what you need for what you’re doing tonight.

Seungcheol is sitting on the ground, propped up against the wall of the castle. His arms are crossed over his chest, legs sticking straight out, and head tipped into his shoulder as he nods off. He starts at the sound of your shoes clacking against the stone floor, head nearly banging against the castle wall.

Seungcheol lets out a big yawn, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes with the back of his hand. The glow of the moonlight halos on his handsome face.

“Sorry,” you wheeze out, still struggling to catch your breath. “You’re probably so tired of waiting for me.”

You keel over, keeping the blanket bundled tightly in your arms, to take in a large gulp of air. Running was not something you did often, or at all really. Physical exertion was not your strong suit.

This makes Seungcheol get up instantly, pushing himself up from the wall.

“Are you okay?” he puts his hands on your arms and you stand up straight still breathing heavily.

“I’m fine—” wheeze “—just haven’t—” wheeze “—ran in a while.” Ever, really, but he didn’t need to know that.

Seungcheol looks on at you with concern, hands still firmly clutched around your biceps, “Are you sure? You don’t seem okay to me.”

You try to shove him away with the blanket rolled up in your arms, but he keeps an iron grip on you, “Oh stop being such a worrywart, I’m fine.”

Seungcheol glances down at the blanket in your hands, “Princess, did you want to watch the stars with me?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Shut up,” you mutter, shoving him away again, more pathetically and with far less power than before. This time, he lets you, stepping back with a soft stumble, not dropping his teasing smile.

“Sorry again for making you wait.” You unravel the blanket spreading it out flat on the stone floor. “We’re dropping another issue of the Whistler soon—don’t tell anyone—so we’re a bit on crunch time. I lost track of the time.” You kneel down, the stone floor cold against your bare knees, and smooth the blanket of any folds.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” Seungcheol waves a hand at you, stifling a yawn behind the other. “I was finishing up rounds with the prefects anyhow.”

You pause, hand holding on to a corner of the blanket, “Merlin, I shouldn’t have asked you to come out so late.” So used to running nocturnal, it hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps Seungcheol might’ve wanted to sleep. “I didn’t even think. You just got out of the infirmary too.”

Seungcheol crouches down to your level. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Princess,” he waits for your eyes to shyly meet his, “I could be on the brink of death, and I would still do anything or go anywhere that you asked me to.” He holds your gaze until you suddenly let go of the blanket and shove him over, making him land on his butt with an oof.

“Harrowing Hippogriffs!” Hands fly up to cover your mouth in shock, “I’m sorry—I just—Seungcheol! You can’t say things like that.”

Seungcheol’s wearing a wide grin as he gets up and dusts his hands off, wiping them on his robes. “And why is that? Afraid you’ll fall in love with me?” He winks, dimple on full display, almost mockingly.

You cast him a silent glare then slip your shoes off before taking a seat on the blanket, patting the empty spot next to you for Seungcheol to sit. If he notices how your cheeks were burning all the way to your ears, he doesn’t say anything, instead silently mirroring you taking off your shoes and coming to sit next to you.

The two of you sit in silence. There are so many things you want to say, but you don’t have the words for any of them. You want to tell him why you asked him to come here tonight. That, yes, you wanted to show him the stars. You wanted to ask him why he was so angry over a game. Why he would take that out on you of all people? Why was he overworking himself to the bone. None of this gets past your tongue though, and you let the silence cloak the two of you.

There’s a gust of wind, sending a cold shiver down your back. All the warmth from your little jaunt through the towers has dissipated, and you’re back to reality: it’s winter in Scotland, you’re outside in the middle of the night, and it is cold.

Seungcheol sighs, “Where on earth is your robe?”

In your haste to leave the newsroom, you’d left your robes draped over a chair by the rolling board. Now, your skirt barely reaches your knees, and your school shirt is as thin as a sheet. There’s another light breeze and a shiver wracks through you again. Hands rub up and down your arms, trying to warming yourself up.

Seungcheol grumbles to himself as he unclasps his robes and throws it over your lap to cover your legs. He then murmurs, swishing his wand about, and a thick fleece blanket in scarlet red appears. It glows as Seungcheol taps it a couple of times, then returns back to normal.

“What are you—” Seungcheol shushes you, unfolding and throwing the red blanket over your shoulders.

With no energy left to argue tonight, your fingers curl around the soft fleece, bringing the blanket tight around you. The woodsy smell of Seungcheol floods your senses, lingering hints of bergamot and grass coiling around you. It also seems Seungcheol’s put a heating spell on it, and the blanket warms up your body, no longer feeling the cold of the night.

Seungcheol crosses his arms together, turning to look at you, “So, why’d you want me to meet you here, Princess?”

“The stars.” You state, matter-of-factly

“The stars?” He grins, bumping your shoulder with his, “So you did want to watch the stars with me!”

Just when you thought your cheeks had calmed down, another blush begins to bloom, and you’re thankful for the shadow surely cast across your face right now.

“There’s something about them.” You bring your knees up, wrapping your arms around them and looking up at the sky. “They’re millions of miles away, these burning balls of gas, containing an infinite number of other galaxies. And here we are, like little tiny ants in the grand scheme of things.” You sigh, pulling the blanket closer around you, “Really puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

Seungcheol hums in understanding. He leans back on his hands while you set your cheek on your knees, turning to look at him. There’s a gust of wind and Seungcheol’s hair goes flying every which way. In a rare sighting outside Seungcheol’s rigidity, his shirt’s untucked and necktie loose, flying to the side with every puff of wind. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you see the goosebumps trail up his arms. A light shudder runs through him and you frown.

In a moment of spontaneity, without thinking it through, you lift an arm up, holding half his blanket up, “Come here, we can share.”

Seungcheol doesn’t jump at the chance of warmth, and maybe if you were anyone else, you’d be a tad bit offended. “Are you sure?” His eyebrows furrow, skeptical. Unsure if you’re asking because you want to, or only because you feel bad. And he wants the former, not the latter.

You shake the blanket in response and, tentatively, he sidles up to you, taking the end of the blanket from you and wrapping it around his back.

His arm is tense as it presses up against you, but then you feel him relax, settling into the warmth.

The familiar creep of trepidation starts up again, and try as you do to push the monster back down, or ignore it, it crawls up your throat, threatening, no, screaming to be let out.

But, as Seungcheol presses closer, something changes. A warm feeling pools in your gut when Seungcheol pulls the blanket tighter around you two, his arm pushing firmer against yours, and letting his knee knock against your leg.

Seungcheol radiates warmth and comfort and for a moment, just a moment, you allow yourself to lean into it.

“Seungcheol,” you say softly

“Yes, Princess?”

The moniker sends a shiver down your spine. Seungcheol, thinking you’re still cold, pulls the blanket even more snug around you two, completely pressed up against your side now. He pulls part of his robes down, making sure they’re fully covering your legs.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything. What’s worrying your pretty little head, hm?” He teasingly knocks his head into yours.

You clear your throat before asking, “Why were you so angry? After your Quidditch match?” You don’t dare to look at him, worried how he’ll react to your question, despite saying you could ask anything.

If you had though, maybe you would’ve caught how red his ears turned.

Seungcheol takes a moment to think before answering. The moment is long enough, you think he’s not going to answer at all, and you’ve most likely ruined the night.

“Again, I’m so sorry about that day,” he starts, “I’m embarrassed with how I reacted.”

“I’m not asking so you’d apologize again.” You put your cheek back on your knee so you could look at him, trying your best to not let any frustration leak into your voice. “I’m asking because I want to know why.”

“Because it’s Quidditch. Quidditch is important,” Seungcheol says, as if that answers everything.

“You’ve said that before.” Seungcheol cocks his head in question and you elaborate. “The first time you asked me to be your girlfr—fake girlfriend.” You clear your throat, hoping he didn’t notice the slip up. “You said what really matters is Quidditch.” And, because you feel the need to, you add, “I’m not making any judgements—”

Seungcheol gives you a look, pursing his lips.

“Okay, so I’m making some judgement. But it’s just a game!” You voice starts to rise a little, “I don’t understand why simply losing would make you lash out like that. Seungcheol, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speak to someone that way, and trust me I’ve observed you a lot lately.”

“You’ve been watching me?” Seungcheol may mean it teasingly, but this time, it doesn’t land. This time, its your turn to furrow your eyebrows at his deflection, and your mouth downturns in a frown.

“Oh don’t be upset Princess, I was just teasing.” Seungcheol brings his knees up like yours and and sets his chin on them.

“I love Quidditch,” Seungcheol says, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “It’s the only thing that keeps me from going crazy.” He briefly glances at you, “Well, one of the only things, at least.”

“It’s my last year,” Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh, “After this year, I’ll be in Healer training and there won’t be any time for Quidditch. They say a team’s only as good as their captain, and I feel like I really let my team down.”

You nod in understanding. While you don’t entirely get it, you could begin to.

Seungcheol rests his cheek on his knees, so he can look at you properly, “I really am sorry I said all those things to you, love. I can’t apologize enough for that.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “No need to keep apologizing Seungcheol.”

He stares into your eyes, “It was mean. No matter how I was feeling, I never should’ve taken it out on you.”

You don’t respond. Just silently watch as the moonlight hits his face, washing it in an ethereal glow, a light breeze flowing through his bangs.

He takes your silence as absolution. “Why did you ask me to see the stars with you?”

“I think you’re working too hard, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol snorts and you press your lips into a thin line.

“I’m being serious. You’ve got too much on your plate. I think you need to learn to let loose a little. Do something that’s not school for once.”

He scoffs, “That’s funny, coming from you.”

You head flies up, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seungcheol brings a hand up to cup your cheek, and you keep yourself from flinching. He rubs his thumb gently over your seemingly dark under eyes. “I mean, when was the last time you left the newsroom the same day you entered it, and went to bed at a reasonable hour? When was the last time you got a full nights sleep?”

You squirm under his touch, but don’t make any move to push his hand off. “I sleep.”

“Not what I asked, love.” Seungcheol drops his hand. “I see how much coffee you drink. You down Nocturnas Brewery like it’s water. How many cups have you had today? Four? Five? Six?”

You grumble about how you weren’t here to talk about you, unsure how this conversation has suddenly flipped.

Seungcheol sniffs, pouting, and then seems to silently make up his mind about something.

He takes his wand out, half the fleece blanket falling to the floor causing you to shiver from the loss of warmth, and waves it over his lap, conjuring up a fluffy white pillow. Placing it behind you on the floor, he tugs the blanket from around you. The cool air blasts against your skin, and your teeth chatter against each other.

Seungcheol lays back on half the pillow, hitting the empty space next to his head with the back of his hand. “Come on,” his voice drops into a commanding tone, “we both need to rest. You can see the stars better from down here anyways.”

You wonder if this is how he speaks to his team, before grudgingly laying back, your head nearly touching his.

Seungcheol tosses the scarlet blanket over you two, seeing to it that it covered you entirely, as to not let any cold air under.

The heat spell keeps it warm and toasty under the blanket and you decide to indulge in the dark of the night, scooching in a little closer to Seungcheol.

He snakes an arm under you and you let yourself sink into his side, breathing in his scent. He smelled like boy, but also like the citrus of his soap, and an earthy mix of the grassy pitch and Forbidden Forest. His hot breath fans against your cheek every time he breathes out, and you smell a faint hint of mint. It’s less panic inducing, and instead there’s something more grounding about it. A certain familiarity in Seungcheol that keeps the monster at bay.

As difficult as it was, you try not to think of Seungcheol too much as you look up at the night sky, littered with the sparkle of stars.

“My favourite is Cygnus.”

“Who?”

“Cygnus. He’s a Swan.” You point up at a mass of stars, “And that’s Deneb in there. She’s one of the brightest stars in the sky.”

Seungcheol presses his cheek up against yours to follow your finger up into the starry sky. You try not to be distracted by how nice and warm, and soft, his cheeks feel on yours.

“They say there was this guy, Phaeton, son of the sun god. He went out to ride his father’s sun chariot, but he lost control of the reins. So Zeus, this lightning guy, shot him out of the sky, bam!” You whip your hand across the sky, miming a lightning strike. Seungcheol tightens his hold around your waist, keeping you in place.

“Lightning bolt to the chariot, and down it falls.” Your fingers trail downwards, “Down onto Earth, and into a river called Eridanus. According to the story, Cygnus, his lover, spent days diving into the river to collect all his bones.” You look on mournfully at the constellation.

“He loved him so much,” you whisper sadly, “All he wanted was to to give him a proper burial.”

Seungcheol hums along, and pushes his cold nose into the crook of your neck. He smiles against your skin when you yelp from the sudden cold and he tries to press closer.

You don’t let it phase you as you continue, though you can’t help but stammer a little, “T-the gods were so touched by his devotion, they turned Cygnus into a swan and placed him in the skies.”

Seungcheol mumbles into your neck, “I’d dive for your bones too, Princess, are you gonna turn me into a star?”

You make to kick his shin, but this just makes Seungcheol laugh and he rolls you into him, both his arms wrapping around you. You ear is pressed up against his chest, and you swear you can hear the badum badum of his heart beating through his shirt.

“How do you know all this?” Seungcheol’s fingers absentmindedly draw shapes on your back. “This isn’t something that’s covered in Astronomy.”

His fingers pause as he waits for an answer.

“We almost made an astrology column at the Whistler. I did a lot of research for it, but the idea ended up falling through. Something about the stories though, of the different constellations, they stuck with me. I find the stars . . . fascinating, I guess.”

You wriggle your arm out from under his to point up at another cluster of stars, “See those there? That’s the big dipper. It’s like, a massive soup ladle. And in the corner, the really bright star? That’s the northern star.” Seungcheol hums in understanding, and you can feel the thrum of vibration against your neck. “The big dipper is part of a bigger constellation, Ursa Major. She’s a bear.”

You hold your hand up like a bear claw and make a fierce face at the sky. You can feel Seungcheol smiling again, face still buried in the crook of your neck.

“You’re not even looking at the sky,” you whine.

Seungcheol laughs again, “Okay, okay.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm to placate you, and you’re ashamed to admit, it does calm you down a little. “You know so much about the night sky, love. Now how about we close our eyes, just for a little bit, yeah?”

He pulls you in closer, if that was even humanely possible, adjusting to tuck you under his chin.

You don’t know what to do about his belt buckle that sort of digs into your hip. Or the way his legs tangle with yours.

But, he holds you tenderly against his warm chest, and you hear the rhythmic beat of his heart once more, letting it lull you into a false sense of security. Your arms come up to curl around him, and you close your eyes, letting yourself relax into the comfort of him.

As he asked, for just a little bit, you’ll close your eyes. You’ll close your eyes, and you’ll forget. Forget that this isn’t real. Forget that Seungcheol is not your boyfriend. Forget that this isn’t real.

The first sign that something is not right is the sunlight that warms your face.

Second, it’s the sound of birds chirping. Third, it’s the two strong arms wrapped tight around you while your legs are tangled with Seungcheol’s.

Seungcheol

Your eyes fly wide open as panic settles its way into your chest.

Seungcheol’s face is buried in your hair and he’s snoring lightly.

“Seungcheol,” you hiss, trying to pat him awake, “Seungcheol!”

You try to pry his arms off you, but it has opposite of the intended effect. Seungcheol groans in his sleep, wrapping his arms tighter around you, and resumes snoring.

“Seungcheol!” You try again, this time attempting to shove him as hard as you can with your whole body. While you’re successful in rolling Seungcheol over on his back, he takes you with him, arms still in an iron grip around you.

His eyes fly open as your face hovers above his.

“It’s morning,” you say in a vexed voice.

Seungcheol smiles lazily, eyes in a tired squint. “Good morning, Princess.” His voice gruff from sleep.

You huff, “No, Seungcheol. It’s morning!”

His eyes widen, tearing them away from you, cursing as he looks around at the bright sunny skies and you two on top of the the Astronomy Tower. He loosens his grip around you and you can finally slip out. The two of you struggle to quickly unfurl out of the scarlet fleece blanket wrapped around you two, elbows and knees bumping into each other.

“It’s morning.” Seungcheol tries to clear the sleep out of his voice. “When did it become morning?”

“Let’s just close our eyes for a little bit,” you say in a mocking deep voice, scoffing at the end.

“I didn’t think we’d sleep through the night!”

“Well we did,” you sneer, “so get up pumpkin.” You straighten your shirt and skirt to look less ruffled. “Do you know what time it is?”

Seungcheol feels around for where he discarded his glasses last night, and when he checks his watch, he drops a saccharin string of curses. He scrambles to stand up, charming his blanket and pillow away as you grab your blanket off the floor to fold up.

“I cannot believe you let us sleep till morning,” you snap. Not that you’ve ever been time to your first class, but that was irrelevant as far as Seungcheol was concerned.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Seungcheol gripes. “Also, I didn’t make you do anything, so don’t snap at me,” his voice turning up at the end in a pouty whine. He grabs the robe off the floor and thrusts it at you, trading you for the blanket in your hands, and tapping his foot as you put your arms through the sleeves, clasping the front hook.

The two of you hurry down the stairs and rush down the corridors to the changing staircases. Seungcheol puts an arm out to stop you at the bottom of a flight of stairs, right before a tall arched doorway. He puts a finger to his lips, peeking his head through the doorway.

Already, students are beginning to feed into the changing staircases, most likely coming from the Great Hall and on their way to their classes.

Seungcheol turns back to you, “There enough of a crowd coming out of breakfast that we’d be able to blend in and go to our dormitories. That sound good?” Seungcheol’s face is scrunched up in determination, he’s sure this’ll work. “I’ll see you in class then.”

He turns to walk through the doorway when you grab him by the arm. “Wait, Seungcheol, wouldn’t we want people to notice us?” You chew your bottom lip, “Maybe it’ll be good for people to see us together.”

His eyes flit down for a millisecond. “Princess, we want people to think I’m sweetly courting you at school,” he tries to hide a smile, “Not defiling you on the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night.”

You gasp, slapping Seungcheol on the arm, “We were doing nothing of the sort!”

Seungcheol laughs, ruffling your hair, “I’ll see you back in class, love.” With that, he disappears through the archway.

You fix your hair, letting the strands fall back into place, before stepping through the archway and letting the crowd suck you in.

You make it back to the Ravenclaw dormitories undetected, entering your room just as Mythili is about to head out.

She looks you up and down, and smirks, “Fun night?”

You freeze, like you’ve been caught red handed, “What?”

Mythili looks pointedly at your robes and you look down.

Sewn onto the breast is a Gryffindor patch, a lion rearing on its hind legs, and next to it, a shiny Head Boy badge is pinned. You silently curse, as your heart stops and sinks into your stomach.

You and Seungcheol forgot the robes were his.

“Speechless?” Mythili looks smug and you want to wipe the stupid grin off her face. “That fun, huh?” She lets out a laugh at your horrified look, “I’ll see you in class, don’t be late.”

a/n: it's happening!!! the fake dating commences haha. what did you think? thoughts on seungcheol and wallflower's dynamics? also isn't he literally the cutest, i love himmm 🥺

Trading Soonyoung his essay for your textbook, you flip to the chapter on antidotes. “See,” you point to a paragraph on the second page, “one of Buckley’s Three Laws of Antidotes: The number of stirs must stay consistent when creating an antidote.”

Soonyoung grumbles, aggressively crossing out a paragraph and begins rewriting it below, his quill making angry scratching noises against the parchment.

For the past few nights, this has become the norm. Dinner with Soonyoung and Seungcheol, joined by Joshua and Jeonghan. Then, as a group, heading down to the library to get some work done. You can tell it’s not necessarily how Joshua and Jeonghan would like to spend their nights but, if there’s something you’ve learned about those two this past week, it’s that they seem to appease Seungcheol’s every whim.

Tonight, there’s a new addition. A gangly sixth year Gryffindor who introduces himself as Wonwoo Jeon. His glasses are comically thick, almost as thick as Raveena’s, and he hasn’t spoken a single word since he’s sat down next to Joshua.

An arm casually draped across the back of your chair, Seungcheol has abandoned his studying, opting to chat with his friends across the table instead.

Despite not actively touching you, it feels as though his arm is radiating the heat of a thousand suns against your back, pulling your focus away from Soonyoung’s essay like planets to the sun.

Soonyoung throws his quill down on the table, frustrated, “It’s getting late and my brain can’t function anymore. I’m calling it.” He lets out a defeated sigh, “You’ll have to help me finish later, Wallflower.”

“We should all probably get to bed.” Seungcheol looks pointedly at you, “Especially you. You need your rest for tomorrow.” He stands up, grabbing your bag off the floor, and slinging it over his shoulder, on top of his own. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Joshua’s eyes flit between you and Seungcheol, confused, “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”

You avoid everyone’s gaze as you stand up, rushing to grab your textbook off the table. Soonyoung’s probably got the same stupid smirk he had when you mentioned your date this morning. A quick glance proves you right, yet this time he’s added in the stupid wiggling of his eyebrows.

Joshua turns to Jeonghan, “What’s he talking about?” But Jeonghan shrugs, making an i-don’t-know-your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine face, shaking his head.

Seungcheol plucks the textbook out of your hands, slipping it into your bag, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m taking my girlfriend to Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

Jeonghan faux vomits at the word girlfriend and Joshua smacks him upside the head.

“Thanks,” you whisper under your breath, grabbing the rest of your things. Seungcheol definitely hears you because he smiles, eyes turning into half moon crescents.

When you go to grab your bag from Seungcheol, he dodges your hands. You scowl at him.

“Jeonghan, you can vomit all you want, but one of us has a date tomorrow, and it isn’t you,” says Seungcheol cheekily.

You try for your bag again, but damn Seungcheol and damn his Quidditch reflexes. He gracefully turns out of your reach.

“Come on, Princess—” your breath catches “—let’s get you to bed.” Seungcheol starts walking backwards, and has the audacity to wink at you, motioning his head to the library exit.

You clutch an inkwell tight in your hand, debating whether or not to launch it at Seungcheol’s head, when Jeonghan says, “You should go. Before Sir Head Boy here starts rattling off the negative impacts of not getting a full nights sleep.” Ironic. If there was anyone who got less sleep than you, it was Seungcheol.

“Goodnight Wallflower,” Soonyoung says behind you and you raise a hand to him without looking. You stalk past Seungcheol, but not before pushing your inkwell and quills into his chest.

Seungcheol drops them into your bag and scurries after you, trying to catch up to you in the dim corridor, “Slow down. Hey, Princess, slow down.”

You halt, whipping around to face Seungcheol, and it catches him off guard. He skids, putting his hands up as to not run into you.

“Why—” you hiss “—do you keep calling me that?”

The hallway’s deserted, but you still do your best to keep your voice down.

“What?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, “Princess?”

“Yes,” you spit out. “That.”

Seungcheol pushes his bottom lip out in a pout, cocking his head to one side, “If I’m the Prince of Hogwarts, wouldn’t that make you my Princess, Princess?”

His logic checks out, and you hated him for it. It made you want to rip all your hair out and scream. But that, would be a tad bit dramatic.

Seungcheol takes your silence as animosity and bends down to bring his face close in front of yours, intently locking his eyes with yours, “What would you rather I call you then, love?”

You want to look anywhere but at him, but his face is so damn close to yours. Defiantly, you jut your chin out, “My name, perhaps?”

He feigns thinking, straightening back up again, “Mm, no, I think Princess sounds better,” and shuffles around you to begin walking to your dormitories.

You roll your eyes and jog to catch up, walking alongside him. “Look, you don’t have to carry my things for me and walk me to my dorm every night. I’m perfectly capable of doing all these things myself.” You make one last futile attempt at grabbing your bag but Seungcheol swiftly shifts it to his other side, away from you. “I didn’t make it to my seventh year unable to do anything, you know.”

Seungcheol smiles to himself. “Never said you couldn’t, love,” he says softly.

“Stop calling me that,” you snarl. A quick look around the hallway finds it empty, “There’s no one even here, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t have to what? Be an adoring, loving boyfriend?”

“We’re not even dating!” You cry out.

“Shhp!” Seungcheol puts a finger to his lips, then points up. Following his finger, you look up at the portraits covering the tall walls all the way up until they disappear into the darkness above.

Ah, yes, the walls are always listening.

It takes everything in you to not stomp your feet in petulance, though there is still an underlying irritation in every step as you continue walking.

The two of you trudge your way up Ravenclaw tower, the spiral staircase feeling never ending tonight. At the top, Seungcheol reminds you, “As far as anyone’s concerned, we are dating. Don’t forget that.”

You open your mouth to argue but Seungcheol cuts you off, “I don’t want to hear it. You know I’m right.”

That he was. But you weren’t going to tell him that.

The bronze eagle knocker glints from the luminosity of the moonlight cascading through the high windows of the tower.

Seungcheol leans up against the wall by the door, “I don’t think you’re weak, or that you can’t help yourself. I’m doing this because, as your boyfriend, it brings me joy to do this.” Fake boyfriend, you want to correct him.

Your nose twitches and you knock the knocker a little harder than necessary.

The bronze eagle’s voice booms, “I can take decades to build but a day to destroy. What am I?”

Barely needed a moment to think, you answer, “Trust.” The door swings open and you turn to Seungcheol, “It brings you joy to do these things?”

Seungcheol grins, crossing his arms, “It does. You also get so angry, Princess. It’s cute.”

Cheeks burning, you shove him, yanking your bag away while he stumbles off the wall, stifling a laugh behind his fist.

“Sleep well, love. I’ll see you in the morning,” he calls out as you enter your common room. You slam the door without looking back, but you can still hear his giggles as the door closes shut.

Morning greets you like a chessboard to the face.

All throughout the night, you shifted in and out of consciousness. You couldn’t have had more than a couple of hours of steady sleep.

On your way to the bathroom, you tiptoe past a sleeping Mythili. She snores softly, half her body hanging off her bed, and you double back to push up her hanging limbs, tucking them in under her blanket. Mythili stirs for a second, then resumes snoring, curling an arm under her pillow.

In the bathroom, you almost can’t recognise the girl staring back at you in the mirror. Dark eye bags shade your under eyes and your skin is starting to take on an almost sickly pallor.

Last night was unkind to you, but so was the night before. As was the night before that. This was your new normal, you just had to get used to it. The sleepless nights are starting to take it’s toll though, and you’re beginning to look a little worse for wear.

You wash your face, and along with it, try to wash away any unfriendly thoughts clouding your mind.

No amount of scrubbing could wash one thought away though: what exactly was one supposed to wear on a date?

It feels childish. A Hogsmeade trip is nothing special. For years, you’ve been going on them with Soonyoung and Raveena, and never once did you put an ounce of thought into what you were going to wear.

The angel on your shoulder tells you to wear whatever you normally would. That Seungcheol wouldn’t care, this is all for show anyhow.

The devil, on the other hand, he had other thoughts. What if wearing your regular robes is unconvincing? What if it did matter to Seungcheol? What if he felt like you weren’t putting enough effort into this facade?

Soonyoung would probably have a separate collection of robes for dates alone. A selection of designer robes flicker through your mind and you shake your head to rid of the unhelpfulness.

Rummaging through your trunk, you finally decide on some dark charcoal grey robes. They’re less shabby than your navy ones, and you definitely did not want to show up in your school robes.

Mythili is still snoring when you’re done changing. Sunlight begins to stream brighter through the windows, and you pull the curtains shut around her bed before leaving.

When you arrive at the front hall, Seungcheol is nowhere to be found. You push one of the large entrance doors open, stepping out into the cold air, and into a flurry of white.

Snow.

Climbing down the snowy front steps, you reach a hand out. A snowflake lands on the tip of your finger, melting on contact. Your fingertips turn pink as the snowflakes melt one by one on your hand, a shiver running through you from the rush of cold.

“Morning, Princess,” a familiar voice whispers against your ear.

Your heart nearly stops and you whip around, cursing, “Galloping gargoyles! Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol’s bent over laughing, both arms wrapped around his waist, and eyes crinkled into two half moons. You shove him and he barely stumbles, still cackling.

“Need to get you a bloody bell around your neck,” you mutter. A gust of wind blows past, another shiver running through your back.

A scowl replaces Seungcheol’s cheery smile, “Why aren’t you wearing a jumper?” He’s got on thick dark navy robes and a striped Gryffindor scarf around his neck. “Didn’t you know it was snowing out?”

“Didn’t look out the window.” You wave an apathetic hand at him, “I’m fine.”

As you descend down the stairs, snow flurries into your face with a stronger gust of wind. Shoulders shake as another shiver vibrates through you and you sputter, brushing the snow out your face and hair.

Seungcheol harrumphs, coming to stand in front of you, one step below, bringing you two face-to-face. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he’s unwinding the scarf around his neck and wrapping it around yours.

“What are you—”

Seungcheol shushes you and your mouth clamps shut. He focuses on meticulously wrapping the scarf around your neck, fastening your robes closed over the bottom of the scarf.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m gonna let you come with me without keeping warm.” He pulls your hood over you head, careful not to touch your face while pushing your hair away, tucking it under the hood.

“Let me?” You glower down your nose at him.

“Sorry, sorry. Forgot you’re a big girl who does everything herself with no help at all,” he says in a patronizing tone as he fixes the scarf to make sure it’s completely covering your neck with no gaps. “That’s why you came out into the freezing cold without a jumper. Or a scarf.” For a second you think you hear wrong, but you swear he mutters idiot under his breath.

You open your mouth to argue but he lifts an eyebrow, as if daring you to say something. You shut your mouth quickly, teeth grinding in frustration as you lift your chin at him in silent defiance.

There’s always an air of both confidence and righteousness that seems to float around Seungcheol. It drove you mad, always putting you on the defense, countering your hesitance with all things concerning Seungcheol. A hesitance that you couldn’t push away, no matter how hard you tried to press past it.

And above all, you hated not having the last word.

Seungcheol pulls the collar of your robes up before smoothing them out. He turns to walk down the last few steps, then begins on the path to Hogsmeade, not getting very far before realizing you’re still frozen on the stone steps. “You coming or not?” He calls out, and you shake yourself out of your reverie, hurrying down the steps to the path to catch up.

The two of you walk side by side in silence. It’s a few minutes up the hill when Seungcheol clears his throat, “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

You stop in your tracks and it’s takes Seungcheol a few steps to notice you’re not next to him. He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You didn’t plan the date today?” You blurt out. In response, Seungcheol cocks his head to the side in puppy fashion.

“You’re the one who told me to come out with you—” you’re unable to stop the indignation from leaking into your voice, “—and you don’t even have anything planned?”

Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows again, lower lip jutting out in a pout, “You said you had errands to run, I thought that’s what we were doing?” His eyebrows shoot up and he points an accusatory finger at you, “You! You want to be taken out!” He widens his eyes and turns to point a finger at himself, “By me.”

“W-what?” You stammer. “I want no such thing, thank you very much. I—” You look anywhere but at Seungcheol and the smirk growing on his face. “I just don’t like my time wasted,” you wrap your arms around yourself. “Or liars. If you say you’re going to do something, I expect you to do it.” With that, you stomp past him, and he follows you with his eyes before jogging to catch up.

Seungcheol walks backwards, trying to catch your eyes, “Admit it, you were looking forward to our date today.” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s probably got on a smug smile, you can hear it in his voice. You plod along, the path to Hogsmeade feeling doubly longer than usual.

Seungcheol hums before turning back to walk in tandem with you, hands clasped behind his back. “Well, as your amazingly loving and adoring boyfriend, I have no set plans for today other than doing only whatever it is you would like to do, Princess.”

You’re glad for the snow and the scarf, allowing the red of your burning cheeks and ears to go unnoticed.

High street is bare this morning. There’s a gentle thrum of town locals, grabbing a coffee at the inn, picking up their post, running their weekend errands. Seems as though you and Seungcheol are the first few students to make your way up here.

“Where to first?” Seungcheol asks softly as the two of you stand in the town entrance.

Snow builds lightly on your shoulders as you think. There was no reason to push back any further on this. The date wasn’t happening, so you might as well buck up and take the opportunity to get your shopping list done.

Mentally going over the things you need, you land on your first stop. “Apothecary?” Your voice wavers with hesitation, but Seungcheol doesn’t contest.

“Lead the way.”

The Apothecary is a little shop at the end of the street. Squeezed between the post office and Gladrags, it’s a short wooden building, painted night black, with a thatched roof that seems to be caving in.

Seungcheol hesitates before following you in through the doorway, face filled with concern when the wooden door pops off its top hinge.

It’s dim inside, the tinted windows letting in the smallest ray of light. Except, upon closer look, the windows weren’t tinted at all. Instead, years of grime had built up on the glass pane, coating it the same jet black as the walls.

On the front window sill, sits a fluffy black kneazle. Its beady yellow eyes follow you as you crouch down to scratch the little monster behind the ear.

“Hiya Zeeks,” you coo. The kneazle swishes his pointed tail in response.

“Zeeks?” Seungcheol lifts a hand to tentatively pat the little guy’s head. The kneazle closes its eyes and purrs in return, stretching his neck out so Seungcheol can get under his chin.

“Short for Ezekiel. The owner keeps him around to catch the mice.” You stand up and motion to a thin, bald, and scraggly looking man at the front counter. A black eye patch covers his left eye, and when he smiles in your direction, a couple teeth are missing. “This way, the stuff I need is further in the back.”

Seungcheol grimaces as you lead him past jars of fish eyes, lizard tails, and things he couldn’t even begin to describe. There’s a fine layer of dust coating the shelves and he avoids touching them. “How often do you need new ingredients?” He eyes a jar filled with bezoars.

“Depends,” you say, grabbing two packets of dried poinsettia powder, turning them over in your hand. “I try to grab stuff when we have a Hogsmeade weekend but, I’ll order things by post if we don’t. If I’m experimenting with new potions, I need new ingredients more often.” You pick up a third packet of poinsettia powder and move on, walking down the aisle to a section with claws hanging from the ceiling. “Generally, I make big batches though, and they tend to keep for a while if you don’t open the stopper.”

Seungcheol hums, following you around the Apothecary like a puppy, watching, as you push aside a jar labelled ‘bat spleens’ to reach behind and grab one filled with a thick burnt orange coloured liquid . You turn the jar over in your hand, and Seungcheol’s able to read the label, salamander blood. He holds back a gag and follows as you eventually take your selection up to the front counter, making small talk with the owner as they ring you up.

Seungcheol is swift to grab your bag of things before you can and at this point you know better than to argue, letting him sling it over his head, hanging it across his chest.

“Where to next, Princess?” asks Seungcheol, as the two of you exit the store.

Your breath catches and you wheeze, trying to cough it off like it was nothing.

Taking a deep breath, making sure your voice doesn’t waver, you say “Scrivenshaft’s? Unless there was somewhere you wanted to go?” You bite your bottom lip, looking at Seungcheol.

His eyes flit down for just a moment, then he clears his throat, shaking his head, “No, nothing for me. Scrivenshaft’s it is.”

The street’s busier than before. With the sun further up in the sky, and the snow having decided to pause for a bit, more people have made it out of the woodwork.

“Sorry we’re just doing my boring errands today.” Students crowd the street, donning familiar scarves of maroon, blue, green, and yellow, and you two weave through them, making your way to Scrivenshaft’s.

“No, this is nice,” Seungcheol says firmly. “It’s far more interesting than what I’d normally do here in Hogsmeade.”

You side step a student, careful not to brush shoulders with them, “What is it you normally do?”

Seungcheol scrunches his nose, “Weasley’s shop? Three Broomsticks? Maybe Hog’s Head if we’re feeling extra mischievous?” He doesn’t notice you staring at him as he speaks.

The sporadic gusts of wind have made his hair go in every which direction, and he sniffles, using a hand to push his glasses up his nose, which, along with his cheeks, are rosy pink from the cold. You notice a little scar on his eyebrow, the faintest slit where his eyebrow hair never grew back in.

You’re about to ask him how he got it when a kid runs past, slamming into your shoulder on their way.

Flying sideways into Seungcheol, he immediately pulls you by the arm to his other side, out of the way, before a second kid racing past could run into you as well.

“Oi!” Seungcheol barks after them, “Watch where you’re going!” He turns back to you, and goes to put a hand on your shoulder, before curling it into a fist and awkwardly dropping it to his side.

“Are you okay?” Concern laces his words.

You lie straight through your teeth, “Yeah, I’m fine.” There’s a dull ache in your shoulder, your heart won’t stop racing, and you feel like you’re going to vomit.

Seungcheol looks unconvinced while you breathe through your nose, trying to steady your heart by counting backward from 10.

At 7, someone else bumps into your back, causing you to stumble into Seungcheol’s chest, top of your head knocking against his chin. Seungcheol curses angrily under his breath as his hand flies to your shoulder to steady you. When you look up at him, he’s got his eyebrows knitted in that signature furrow, and he asks softly, “You okay?”

You think you nod, but you’re not sure, your eyes going out of focus. What you do know is that the monster crawling through your stomach is making you feel sick and you want Seungcheol to just make it stop. Through your cloudy mind, you feel Seungcheol’s hand travel down to grasp yours. His hand is warm, gentle, and you can feel callouses on the pads of his palm.

Then, he’s leading you through the crowd, muttering to himself, “No sense of personal space.” His fingers lace with yours and he’s got a firm hold as he looks above the heads in the crowd, trying to find the best path through the crowd.

The crawling feeling still sits in the pit of your stomach. But now, it’s accompanied by another feeling. An unfamiliar one. Stomachache? No. Anxiety? Also no.

Comfort? Maybe.

You try to shake the feeling, and Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tightens, bringing you closer into his side.

The two of you make it to Scrivenshaft’s in one piece—surprising, since you’re sure Seungcheol’s laser eyes should’ve burned through someone —and Seungcheol opens the door, bell tinkling above, leading you both into warmth.

Inside, it’s as though you can breathe again. Seungcheol huffs and, as if only just now noticing he was holding your hand, quickly shakes it off.

His glasses fog up from the rise in temperature and he runs a hand through his hair, scrambling to apologize, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked. Didn’t mean to—I’m sorry. It’s just the crowd and you—who just runs like that? Without looking where they’re going?”

Seungcheol’s chest heaves up and down, he’s breathing so hard, rushing to get his words out. He wipes at his glasses with the edge of his sleeve.

You make an attempt to calm him down, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s fi—”

But Seungcheol is quick to interrupt, “I wasn’t thinking. But, there was just so many people.” His eyes are wide and erratic, you’ve never seen him like this before. “I would never, not without ask—”

“Seungcheol,” you place a hand on his arm. “Seungcheol, it’s fine. I’m okay. Thank you.”

This seems to give Seungcheol pause.

“I’m okay,” you repeat.

He swallows, choosing his next words carefully. Voice barely a whisper, he says, “You know I would never force you to—”

You squeeze his arm and he freezes, “Seungcheol, I know. It’s fine. It’s okay.”

You were not fine, and you definitely were not okay. Your heart felt as though it was going to pump straight out of your chest, there’s a buzzing in your head, and skipping breakfast? The best decision you’d made this morning with how your stomach was churning. However, none of that was because of Seungcheol.

Seungcheol. The way his eyebrows are drawn together in concern. The intent way he’s looking at you, like he wants to say something, but just doesn’t know how.

You don’t understand why he was even this upset. Not when even you weren’t that pressed about this. You knew what was wrong with you, you were used to this. What, was everyone supposed to automatically know and always move out of your way? That’s irrational. You might as well never leave your room at that point.

Out of nowhere, a burst of confidence, or insanity, courses though you, and you reach up to put a hand on his cheek. His cheeks are warm. Much warmer than your ice cold fingers.

Seungcheol puts his hand over yours, encapsulating it in his warmth, and you resist the urge to pull away.

He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. His eyebrows unfurl and you can feel his jaw unclench.

When he opens his eyes back up, you both drop your hands. Seungcheol looks a little sheepish now, the redness in his cheeks extending to his ears.

“Can I—” he mumbles something incoherent.

“What?”

He looks to your hand, rubbing the back of his neck, and whispers, barely audible, “Is it okay if I hold your hand?”

You don’t answer him. Not with your words at least. Instead, you silently take his hand in yours.

Again, you’d be lying if you said it felt good. It didn’t. But you wanted this. Not the feeling of the monster in your stomach trying to crawl its way up, or the dizzying way your mind clouds over. But to be able to hold Seungcheol’s hand. At least for the moment. At least, until it became unbearable.

The bell on the front door tinkles as someone walks through and Seungcheol pulls you into his chest, out of their way. A hand comes up to caress the back of your head and you look up at him.

“What was it you needed to get here?” Seungcheol’s voice is tender, and quiet enough that you’re sure only you can hear him. His face is so close that, if you were to rise up on your tiptoes, just a little bit, you could close the gap and kiss him. That is, if you wanted to. And if he did too. But neither of you do.

There’s a waver to your voice can’t stop when you answer him, “S-scrapbook material.”

He doesn’t comment on it though. “For scrap-booking?” He asks.

No, for playing Quidditch, you instantly want to bite back, but you don’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, you silently nod.

“Well then, lead the way Princess,” Seungcheol says softly, looking straight into your eyes. You nod.

Down the narrow aisles you go, hand still clasped around his. Somewhere past the bound journals, between the pens and coloured parchment, his fingers lace with yours, the warmth of his palm anchoring you past your unease.

You pick up some stamps with your free hand, turning them over to look at the rubber designs. Then, you move onto the coloured parchment where you struggle to sift through the pages. Seungcheol wordlessly grabs the stamps from your hand so you can browse through the papers better.

“So, you scrapbook. Got any other secret hobbies you want to tell me about,” Seungcheol asks. He leans against the shelf, some of the paper crinkling beneath his shoulder, lightly swinging your hands between the two of you.

“Not a secret. You never asked.” You rifle past the solid colours, making your way into the funky patterns. “And it’s not a hobby, just once a year for Christmas, as a gift to Soonyoung.”

He stops swinging your hands. “How come I don’t get a scrapbook?” He pouts.

“Because I’m already making Soonyoung one.” You pull him with you as you move on to the next aisle, not finding what you want in this one. “Besides, what would I even use? I don’t have any pictures of you outside of the ones for the paper.”

“But I’m your boyfriend,” Seungcheol whines, giving your arm a little tug. “How can you make some other guy a Christmas gift, but not me?” His cheeks puff up in annoyance.

You find a parchment set you like and try to shimmy your hand out of Seungcheol’s hold to pick it up. He doesn’t give up his iron grip though. You huff, “He’s not just some guy, Seungcheol, he’s my best friend.”

Seungcheol grumbles something you don’t fully catch, but it sounds a lot like “Yeah, but he’s not your boyfriend.”

Seungcheol is silent for the rest of your time in Scrivenshaft’s. It’s not a tense silence, but a comfortable one. He’s quiet as he dutifully carries your things to the counter. Quiet, as he holds your bag open for you to drop your purchases in, never once letting go of your other hand in the process.

Once outside, Seungcheol breaks his silence, “Where to next, Princess?”

You bite your lip, pondering. Seungcheol looks away, out into the sun. “Those were the only things I needed to do,” you say. Your errands were not extensive today.

“What about Honeydukes?” Seungcheol points down the street towards the sweet shop. “Do you need to restock your sweets?”

Your eyes follow Seungcheol’s finger morosely. You did need sugar quills, you were completely out, had been for a while now. But, you also needed to save coin, potion ingredients didn’t pay for themselves.

You shake your head, “No, I’m all set. If we go, I’ll just be tempted.” You can’t help the dejection in your voice.

Seungcheol’s where to next, princess? dauntingly echoes through your head. Where to next, indeed. Seungcheol may have said he’d go anywhere you wanted today, even seemed excited for it, but surely he wasn’t expecting to just be taken on errands?

You were boring. You’d also never had the task of taking someone on a date, not that this was one at this point.

The joke shop? No, you still hadn’t rid of the embarrassment from the last time you saw Seungcheol there. Besides, he said he goes there with his friends. You doubt he’d take a romantic partner there.

Shrieking shack? Seungcheol doesn’t strike you as the haunted house type.

Three broomsticks? You were already planning to meet Soonyoung there later this afternoon. No, you need something different.

Hogs head? If you’re being honest, that place gave you the creeps.

What you needed was some place students take each other on dates. A normal place. Somewhere preferably public, that other students would visit too. Somewhere everyone would see you, a place to incite the gossip train. A place that, if students were to see you, would immediately think ah, those two must be on a date.

It hits you. Of course. You know just the place.

The pink decor of Madam Pudifoot’s is still as vomit inducing as it was last time.

The two of you are seated at a small table in the center of the teashop. Seungcheol tries to awkwardly fit his thick legs under the tiny table, but he keeps bumping his knees into it. He looks on with caution at the walls covered in puce paint, side eyeing the rosewood pink curtains that hang ominously from the ceilings.

One of the waitstaff comes by to take your orders. “I’ll have a cup of tea please,” Seungcheol says. You try to be discreet and shake your head at him, but Seungcheol doesn’t take the hint.

When the waiter turns to you next, you pass on the tea. “I’ll take a coffee,” you say. This time, you know better.

“Any cream or sugar?”

“Both, please.” The waiter scribbles on their little notepad. “Can I also get a slice of cake, please?” You add on. Perhaps not the best thing for an empty stomach, but you desperately needed something sweet after the morning you’ve had.

“Absolutely. We’ll have that out soon.” They snap their fingers twice and a little cherub flies by, tossing golden confetti over you and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol looks like he’s about to cry as he shakes the confetti out of his hair and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

When the drinks arrive, Seungcheol takes a sip, and winces from the acrid taste. He clears his throat, “So, you, um, like coming to this place?”

“I guess you don’t know,” you say haughtily, “but this is the hip place to take your dates.” You take a sip of your own drink, and hold back the urge to spit it out. It has a bitter aftertaste, as though the coffee beans were burned.

Seungcheol quirks an eyebrow up, “Is it now?” He has an amused smile but you’re not finding anything funny.

The slice of cake you ordered is dry and lacks any sort of sweetness. Yet, you still shovel in a big bite, letting it stick to the top of your mouth as you chew, barring you from answering.

Seungcheol has all but abandoned his weak tea on the table. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s leaning back, watching as you down your bitter coffee to wash down the dry cake, hiding your gags in between. He shakes his wrist out, turning his watch to look at the time, “All done?”

Launching yourself over the table, you grab at Seungcheol’s wrist, tugging it towards you. Seungcheol’s caught off guard, swiftly putting out his other hand to brace himself against the table, trying not to faceplant into his cold tea. You turn his wrist over, so you can see the face of his watch. “We should get going, I told Soonyoung we’d meet him at the Three Broomsticks.” You drop his hand unceremoniously to the table with a thunk and get up to grab your robes and scarf off the back of the chair.

Seungcheol winces as he half falls onto the table, elbow barely missing his abandoned cup of tea. “We need to work on using your words, Princess,” he mutters, grabbing your bag from the ground and slinging it over his head

“What’s that?” You’re not looking at him, instead struggling with wrapping his scarf back around your neck, getting your hair stuck in between the layers.

Seungcheol comes around the table, planting himself in front of you. He swats your hands away and they fall, limp, to your side, as he unwraps the scarf and begins re-wrapping it properly.

“Next time, try Hey Seungcheol, what time is it?” He’s careful to make sure your hair doesn’t get caught, wrapping the scarf snug enough so you stay warm, but not so tight its suffocating. “Or maybe, Seungcheol, can I please take a look at your watch?” He pulls your robes closed over the end of the scarf, clasping the buckle, and smoothing his hands out over your shoulders. “Does that sound good to you?“

You swallow at nothing and bury your nose into his scarf, nodding shyly. Hints of grass and bergamot flood your senses, and as the two of you head outside into the cold, you can’t tell if your ears burn pink from the temperature, or from Seungcheol.

A flurry of snow has started up again, covering everything outside with a fresh new coat of white. It blows into your face with every gust of wind, and by the time you and Seungcheol make it to Three Broomsticks, you’re shivering to your bones.

“You head on inside, find Soonyoung,” Seungcheol says, “I need to go do something first.”

“Y-y-ou want me t-to come with you?” Your teeth chattering with every word.

“Don’t worry about me,” He opens the door to the pub and pushes you through. “Go on, warm up, I’ll be quick. Promise.” And with that, he shuts the door behind you.

The warmth of the pub immediately melts you, from your head down to your toes, and you go to find Soonyoung. He seated in the back, by the roaring fire, at a circle table with Raveena.

“Madam Wallflower!” booms Soonyoung as you approach them. “Nice of you to join us,” he says, tipping an invisible hat at you.

“As always, Sir Hoshi.” You tip your own nonexistent cap back while pulling out a chair across from them.

Soonyoung looks behind you, “Where’s the boyfriend?”

“Said he had something to do,” you shrug, “He’ll be here soon. What’re you two up to then?”

Raveena’s got a parchment on the table with scribbles of boxes all over. “The layout for the next issue.” She glares at Soonyoung, “Hoshi here thinks the front page should be Professor Hildred’s sacking.” Turning back to you, she says, “Please tell him that no one wants to hear about that old cod, and that it’s a page three at best.”

“He’d been stealing multiple paintings at the school undetected for years,Pudding,” Soonyoung throws out. “This is like, the story of the year.”

“Oh shut up.” Raveena points to you with her quill, “Wallflower and Golden Boy are closer to being story of the year than some old guy trying to make a quick coin. Speaking of—” Raveena flourishes her quill at you, “we’d still love to interview you two if you’ll let us.”

You lean over and snatch the quill out of Raveena’s hand, “In your dreams, Pudding.” You’d rather die than let yourself be interviewed for the Whistler, for your relationship of all things. “And put that away you two, before someone sees it. I’m going to go get something to drink, you two want anything?“

Raveena lets out an offended scoff before grabbing her quill back and shoving it, and the parchment, into her bag.

“Can you get me a butterbeer, Wallflower?“ Soonyoung rummages in his pocket and hands you a few sickles.

You salute, “Sure thing Boss.“

The hot chocolate you get warms you right up. Along with the hot, ever burning fireplace, you’re toasty and cozy, listening on as Raveena and Soonyoung chatter (and squabble) amongst themselves. One hot chocolate turns into two, then into three, till you’re indulging on your fourth.

“Boo,” someone whispers by your ear and you jump in your seat, nearly dropping your mug in your lap.

Seungcheol’s standing behind you, eyes crinkled into half moons, biting down a smile. He seems to be holding something behind his back.

“What the hell, Seungcheol,” you grumble, wiping your hands of the little bit of hot chocolate that had spilled.

“Aw, don’t be upset, Princess.” He grins, taking a seat next to you, “Look, I come bearing a gift.”

You perk up at the word gift, wiping at your lips with your sleeve, “A gift? For me?”

He brings a box out from behind his back, the gleam of silver instantly recognisable.

You dive for the box, “Sugar quills!” And Seungcheol lets it go with ease. He looks on endearingly as you examine it with awe, turning it over in your hands. “How did you kn—”

Seungcheol grabs the edge of your chair, pulling it close next to his, and you yelp, hugging the box tight against your chest. His face is mere centimeters from yours, but he’s not looking at you, he’s looking behind you. You turn to see Wonwoo walking up with two butterbeers in hand. He sets one down in front of Seungcheol and takes a seat on your other side. When you turn back around, Seungcheol’s face is still dangerously close to yours.

“Do you like it, Princess?“ Seungcheol whispers, draping an arm over the back of your chair.

You avoid his eyes, wrapping your arms tighter around the box, “How did you know I was out?” You had been out for weeks.

“You said so,” he doesn’t take his eyes away from yours, lips curling into a sweet smile, “last time.”

“Last time?”

Seungcheol cocks his head, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head. “When we were at Honeydukes. You said you needed sugar quills.”

He remembered that? “Thank you,” you breathe out and Seungcheol grins again, satisfied.

“Hey Wallflower, can I have one?” Soonyoung asks from across the table.

You frown and fiercely shake your head, “No, it’s for me,” turning away from him with the box. Raveena lets out a cackle as Soonyoung looks affronted.

“Here, I’ll put it away for you,” Seungcheol gently pries the box out of your tightly wrapped arms, sticking it inside your bag. He settles back into his seat, arm not leaving the back of your chair.

Your heart ticks up a little, slowly rising in bpm, and you pick up your mug, downing the warm hot chocolate in one chug, hoping to have it calm you down.

Seungcheol leans over and whispers, “Want another?” Any attempt at lowering your heartrate is quashed.

Your stare down at your empty mug, chewing your bottom lip. It’s not like its coffee, surely another couldn’t hurt. You nod shyly at Seungcheol and he breaks into the widest smile. Then he does the strangest thing. He softly bumps his head into yours, like a baby goat headbutting, before getting up.

You sink into your seat, letting half your face bury into your scarf. Embarrassment warms your cheeks, but one look around the table has you realising that not a single person is paying you two any attention.

Seungcheol comes back with a piping hot mug of hot chocolate, setting it down in front of you with a soft here you go, love, and taking a seat, arm going right back up to drape across the back of your chair.

The mug radiates warmth against your palms as you hold it between your hands. Seungcheol must’ve cozied up to Madam Rosemerta because there’s a massive dollop of whipped cream on top, more than you’ve ever received. You blow a steady puff of air, the whipped cream fluttering, and take a sip. The hot liquid scalds your tongue and you hiss at the burn, setting the mug down with a clatter.

Seungcheol brings his hand up against the back of your head, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, flustered. “It was just really hot.”

“Careful,” says Seungcheol, stroking at your hair with his thumb before resting his arm back on your chair. You simply nod, picking your mug back up to blow on it once more, hoping to cool it down enough to take another sip.

As the afternoon goes on, you find yourself sinking further and further into the warm scarf wrapped around your neck, and into Seungcheol’s side. You’re not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel warmth radiate off him. He also keeps buying you hot chocolates, filling you up with the warm liquid, making you feel cozy, and sleepy.

When you yawn for the tenth time in the span of minutes, Seungcheol decides to call it.

“I think we’re gonna head back to the castle,” he says, standing up and slinging your bag over his head, “It’s been a long day for us.”

He sticks a hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you up and out of your chair. You bid everyone your goodbyes, stifling another yawn behind your hand.

“Alright, come on sleepy head, lets get you to bed,” Seungcheol leads you outside, and you let him pull you along the path back to the castle.

He walks you up to your tower and, again, you don’t push back this time. You’re too content and full of hot chocolate to argue.

At the door of the Ravenclaw dorm, you start to take off Seungcheol’s scarf, but he stops you.

“Keep it,” he says, loosely winding it back around your neck.

You roll your eyes, “Seungcheol, I have scarves.”

“I don’t doubt you do. But keep it anyways. Wear it to my game next week.” He pauses for a moment. “You are coming right?”

Ah yes, the highly anticipated, for reasons unknown to you, Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match.

You push out your lower lip in a pout, “Do I have to go?” A hint of a whine slips through.

“Yes?” Seungcheol acts like you’ve asked him if can pumpkin’s can feel pain.

You refuse to let the stupid sport ruin your hot chocolate induced high, so you muster out a curt, “Fine. I’ll be there, I guess.”

“Okay, sound at least a little excited. I’m not forcing you to your execution,” says Seungcheol as he slips your bag over your head.

“Might as well be,” you mutter under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you straighten up, pulling on your bag strap. “Game. Next week. Wear the scarf. I’ll be there.” You throw up two unenthusiastic thumbs up as your eyes flutter shut for a second from drowsiness.

Seungcheol ruffles your hair, smiling and eye crinkling smile when you weakly swat him away with a glare. He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, “Alright, head in, get some rest.”

You hit the knocker and answer the riddle, opening up the door.

“And Princess?”

You turn to look at him, fighting back another yawn.

“I had a lot of fun today,” he says, adding softly, “Best date ever.”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, and mumble a quiet thanks, before hurrying through the door, shutting it behind you.

After the Hogsmeade trip, a unspoken barrier seems to have broken between you and Seungcheol.

Hands held fleetingly in the hallway.

The briefest of touches to the middle of your back when walking to class.

A head falling on your shoulder at lunch because Seungcheol just can’t stop laughing.

A leg pressed oh so lightly against yours under the library table.

You welcomed it, really. Every time, with every touch, it got harder and harder for the monster to crawl up out of your gut. Always with Seungcheol though. Only with Seungcheol.

There are moments, sometimes, when he’s not there, where you find yourself seeking his touch. Almost like you crave it. Missing the warmth with which his hands encapsulate yours, grounding you in way no one else ever has.

It feels absurd. Wrong, almost. But in the days leading up to the Quidditch game, you barely see Seungcheol outside of class, save for a few meals and some brief study sessions, and you hated it. Seungcheol had somehow become a constant in your daily routine, and when he’s not there you feel as though there’s an absence, a void that needed to be filled.

It was driving you mad.

Disappointment welcomes you with open arms the morning of the game. Soonyoung informs you that Seungcheol has already gone down to the pitch to prepare for today’s game. Raveena and Chan exchange a look when your face falls.

You’re wearing Seungcheol’s scarf, just like he told you to, and he’s not even here for you to show him.

“Supporting your boyfriend, eh?” Soonyoung says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up Hoshi,” you mutter, grabbing a piece of toast and spreading jam on it like it had personally offended you and you were seeking revenge against gluten. Messily shovelling it into your mouth in one go, you grab Soonyoung’s copy of today’s Daily Prophet. The crossword brings you comfort and solace, and as you solve through the clues, you feel your annoyance begin to ebb away.

Raveena waves a bottle of syrup at Chan, “Why’ve you got a camera Dino?”

One of your old cameras hangs around Chan’s neck as he chows down on some pancakes.

Raveena swings the bottle around to point at you, “Are you not taking photos today?”

You shake your head with a disgusted look, “Merlin, no.” If it weren’t for Seungcheol, you wouldn’t be stepping foot anywhere near the Quidditch pitch.

“I don’t get it,” Raveena squeezes so much syrup over her plate of scrambled eggs and toast that they begin swimming in it. Soonyoung pushes his plate away from hers as the syrup threatens to spill over. “What exactly is your issue with Quidditch.”

“No issue. Sports are just not my thing.” You spread a generous amount of jam on another slice of toast. “Say, what exactly is the big deal about today’s game? I keep hearing everyone say it’s really important but you people say that about every game.”

“Oh Wallflower,” Soonyoung lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in sorrow. You flick some jam at him and it lands on his cheek. He makes no move to wipe it off. “What’s the use of all that studying if you don’t even know the basics of the most important sport in the world.”

“If it’s sooo important, then why is it not more interesting. Hm? Someone want to explain that?” You look expectantly at your friends.

Soonyoung throws his hands in the air, letting his fork and knife drop to his plate with a clatter. “I can’t with her,” he says to Raveena and Chan across the table. “I can’t. Would somebody else like to do the honours? Dino perhaps?” Soonyoung motions to the young boy.

Chan freezes mid chew, then swallows before answering, “Uh, not really, no?”

Raveena rolls her eyes and explains in his steed, “We, Ravenclaw, already won our match against Slytherin. Our, Ravenclaw’s, next match is against Hufflepuff. You following so far Wallflower?”

“Sure.”

Raveena continues, “Today, Gryffindor, your boyfriend’s team, is playing Hufflepuff.”

Every time Soonyoung and Raveena refer to Seungcheol as your boyfriend, it sends a chill down your back. You hated lying to them, they’re your best friends, and you have to hold back the urge to correct them.

“If Gryffindor beats Hufflepuff, it means that we, Ravenclaw, can beat them. If we beat Hufflepuff, well then, they’ve got two losses under their belt going into the Slytherin game and the path to the cup is basically clear for us.”

Raveena might as well have been speaking Gobbledegook because you don’t think you understood any of that.

“Sorry, how does Gryffindor winning today mean that Ravenclaw will win our next one?” You refrain from sounding too skeptical.

“Becauff their tweam is hortheshite,” pipes up Chan, mouth full of pancake.

“Who raised you, mate? Don’t talk with you mouth full.” Raveena eyes Chan with revulsion. “What caveman here is trying to say is, they lost some big players this year. The team’s just not that good right now.”

You wanted to say you understood. Nod along, and say everything made perfect sense. But frankly, you were more confused than before.

Soonyoung lets out a frustrated huff, “Basically, if Gryffindor wins today, you guys are gonna win the whole thing.”

“But how do you know that? You’re not psychics. Witches and wizards or not, you can’t just magically know things.” This is why you didn’t bother with sports. No logic. No standards. Simply running on pure whimsy and vibes. Soonyoung shrugs in response, not offering you anything more.

The corridors are crowded as you all make your way down to the pitch. Droves of students are heading down as well, hoping to get a good seat. You do your best to side step the students, but there’s too many of them, and you can’t stop them from grazing your shoulder or bumping into your side.

By the time Raveena’s lead your group to the Ravenclaw section and you lot have found some empty seats, you’re already feeling a little sick. Wedged in between Raveena and Chan, you do your best to countdown yourself out of spiralling.

Jeonghan’s voice booms across the field, “Welcome to another Hogwarts Quidditch game. Today’s match, Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor!”

There’s a roar of applause as the two teams fly out and begin making circles around the pitch. Beside you, Chan and Raveena erupt into yells as players in red fly past.

While this wasn’t your first game, you hadn’t been to one in several years. You’d forgotten how small everyone looks on the pitch, and trying to pick out Seungcheol turns out to be much more difficult than you expected.

Gloomy clouds fill the skies as snow begins to lightly fall. Though you’d never admit it to Seungcheol, his scarf keeps you warm, and you bury your red nose into it, letting the smell of him flood your senses.

Raveena and Chan, bless their hearts, do their best to explain the game as it goes on.

“See those three?” Raveena points to the opposite side of the pitch, “They’re chasers, they try to get that big ball through those hoops. The one guarding the hoops? That’s a keeper, they try to stop the ball from going through.”

A few players by the far hoops are throwing a big red ball between themselves.

“Why do some of them have bats?” You blow on your hands, but your breath does absolutely nothing to warm them up, and you try rubbing them together to create some heat.

Chan leans over, “Those are beaters. They hit bludgers, the balls zooming around the field, at the opposing team.”

“They want to hit the other team?” One of the ones in yellow takes a hard swing at a bludger, sending it hurtling towards a player in red.

“Ooh, that’s a close one,” Jeonghan’s voice echoes through the stadium, “Chaser Seokmin Lee, dodges a nasty bludger from Riley Macint—and Elias Bucket gets a Quaffle in.” His voice slides into a deadpan, “That’s 10 points to Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff leads, 40 to 0.”

“See that one over there?” Chan points and you squint trying to follow his finger, “The one in red holding a bat? That’s your boyfriend.” You spot him, barely. He’s brandishing his bat around, yelling something that you’re too far away to decipher. If he wasn’t wearing a cap and goggles, you’d bet 10 galleons his eyebrows are intensely furrowed right now.

“Seungcheol is a beater?” There’s a gasp from the crowd as a Hufflepuff hits another bludger at Seokmin, and this time it makes full contact with his broom, sending him corkscrewing through the air.

“He was originally a chaser, and a really good one at that,” says Raveena. “But Gryffindor lost both their beaters this year and couldn’t find a second one during tryouts. Your boyfriend decided to give up his chaser position and fill in as a beater instead.”

“You don’t understand, Wallflower,” Chan cuts in. “It really rattled everything. He was such a good chaser, the best one in your year. He could’ve tried getting scouted if he wanted to. And with Mingyu and Seokmin? Those three were unstoppable. They might’ve had a chance to carry the team to the Quidditch Cup if they played together this year.”

“Why wouldn’t he just put someone else in as beater?” It made absolutely no sense to you. “If he was so good, why give up his position like that?”

“Guess he felt it was easier to train another chaser? No one knows, really,” Raveena shrugs.

“Well, how are they doing now?” You gesture to the field.

Jeonghan’s voice echoes over the pitch again, devoid of any emotion, “And that’s another goal from Bucket, Hufflepuff leads, 50-0.”

Boos erupt from the audience around you and Raveena groans, “Not well Wallflower, not well.”

You try to follow Jeonghan’s commentary along with what’s happening on the pitch, but the snow is coming down harder, making it more difficult to see what’s going on. Also, truth be told, you still really don’t understand how Quidditch works.

You’ve clearly missed something as the crowd on the other side of the field goes wild, roaring in cheers. “What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“Hufflepuff’s seeker just caught the snitch, Gryffindor just lost,” Chan says glumly. He clicks his camera to take some final snaps of the Hufflepuff team members circling the pitch.

Further down below, the Gryffindor team players touch down on the ground. You try to single out Seungcheol in the lot but, from this far away, everyone looks like little red ants.

The other students in your section begin to file down and out of the stands. You and your friends follow behind them as the crowd quietly begins their way back to the castle, shoulders downturned, devoid of any cheer.

Once inside the castle, you turn to your friends, “You lot go on ahead, I’m going to go find Seungcheol.”

They all nod in understanding and you head in the opposite direction, down the corridor towards the changing rooms.

You weren’t as familiar with this part of the castle. With your hands clean of anything concerning Quidditch, there was never any reason for you to be by the locker rooms. Perhaps, on occasion, if you were tailing someone from a team, or if someone you were tailing was hooking up with someone on a team. Point is, it was a rarity for you to be in this part of the castle.

It feels as though you’re lost, as you travel down corridors that seem to be heading nowhere of use. However, you’re positive you’re heading in the right direction. You may not be here much, but you know Hogwarts castle like the back of your hand.

Eventually, you come to a series of four wooden doors, etched with a winged circle and two bats behind it like an X. You find the one with a roaring lion insignia above the door handle, and are debating whether or not to knock first, when the door opens and Seokmin walks out.

He’s startled to see you there, your hand raised in a fist, ready to knock. “Hi,” he looks behind himself, then back at you, “You here for Captain?”

You nod, “Is he in there?”

Seokmin purses his lips, “This . . . is probably not the best time. Maybe you should come find him later?”

Your forehead wrinkles in confusion, “Later?” Seokmin was trying to ward you off, but why, you didn’t understand.

He puts up zero fight, “Your funeral, I guess.” And, though not looking too happy about it, holds the door open for you and motions his head inside, “I think he’s trying to drown himself in the shower.”

Inside, there are a few tables and benches, set up almost like a mini classroom, with a chalkboard in front. Brooms line the wall on one side, and on the other, an open doorway with no door.

You tentatively walk through to find yourself in the changing room. There are more benches, this time lower to the ground, scattered through the center of the room and kits stuffed into cubbies that line the walls around. A lone pink bottle of Ginevra Suds A Lot looks like it’s rolled across the floor, abandoned under one of the benches.

Through another doorless doorway, you can hear the sound of a shower running, steam billowing out. Eyeing the small stack of fresh clothes on one of the benches, you decide it’s best to wait for Seungcheol in the team room.

You take a seat on one of the benches. Someone carved GRYFFINDOR RULES, RAVENCLAW DROOLS into the wood of the table, and you smooth a finger over each letter.

The sound of the shower stops and metal ringlets clash against a wooden rod as a shower curtain is drawn. There’s silence, some shuffling, then Seungcheol walks in through the doorway into the team room.

He’d changed out of his quidditch kit, and into a comfortable grey hooded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. His hair, freshly washed, is sopping wet and drips water droplets onto his hoodie, leaving dark grey spots wherever they land. In his hand, he holds his (you’re assuming it’s his?) broom.

Seungcheol freezes when he spots you. “Oh,” his voice is uncharacteristically flat, “You’re here.”

“Hi.” You lift a hand up in an awkward wave, letting it drop limply into your lap when Seungcheol’s face stays stoic. “Yeah, I came to the game.” Seungcheol doesn’t respond, silently walking over to the wall to lock his broom in. “Go Gryffindors,” you cheer lamely, shaking up the end of his scarf like a pom-pom.

“Great,” he says brusquely. “That’s just great.”

“Are you okay Seungcheol?” you furrow your eyebrows in concern. This was entirely unlike him.

He won’t even look at you when he answers. “I’m fine,” he bites out. “Fantastic.”

“Well, you don’t seem fine.” You’re confused. Utterly and unbelievably confused.

“Wow, I wonder why.” He turns just enough for you to see him roll his eyes. “Look, I was kind of hoping to be alone right now. Why are you even here?”

You’re aghast, voice rising, “Why am I even here?”

Seungcheol doesn’t wait for you to continue, abruptly walking out through the main door.

You follow him out into the deserted corridor. “You’re the one that asked me to come!” You spit out. You’d even worn his stupid dumb fucking scarf, just like he’d asked. “I didn’t even want to be here!” Your shriek turns into a cough and Seungcheol turns around just in time to see you start hacking into your elbow. Sitting outside in the snow for so long did not do great things for your throat.

Seungcheol stalls, a wave of concern washing over his face. He looks as though he wants to say something, maybe reach a hand out, but in a flash it’s gone, his face flat once more, and he’s left wearing a vacant expression.

There’s no warmth in his eyes when he says, “Yeah? Then maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

You don’t know why he was being so cruel, and you take a step towards him, “Seungcheol—”

He takes an uneven step back. “Why are you still here? I don’t want you here,” he says, contemptuous.

At his harsh words, tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “Because I’m—” You’re what? His girlfriend?

You’re not his girlfriend. And this isn’t real.

“Because I wanted to support my friend. But he’s being a fucking dick.” With that, you turn on your foot, leaving Seungcheol alone in the corridor.

You wipe at the stray tears escaping down your cheek. If none of this is real, why do you feel an ache in your chest?

Maturity has never been your strong suit.

Once, in your third year, Soonyoung put a frog from Transfiguration class in your school bag, as a joke. In return, you poured frogs blood all over his brand new Gobstones set.

Last year, Chan broke your camera, the once you specifically told him to never touch or you would curse his fingers off. You wouldn’t speak to him for three whole days.

When Raveena ate the last of your sugar quills in the newsroom (they were in a charmed drawer marked DO NOT TOUCH), you stopped coming to the newsroom for almost a month.

As far as you were concerned, Maturity was one class you were never going to pass.

You begin to avoid Seungcheol for the next few days. Which, by the way, is hard because the boy’s in every one of your damn classes. But, you did what a Wallflower does best, you meld yourself into the background, the metaphorical walls so to speak, and disappear like a shadow.

Seungcheol does try to catch your attention, once, after a History of Magic class.

It played out almost comically anticlimactic.

In all your classes, you have been finding a seat as far away from Seungcheol as possible. Easy in classes with Soonyoung, as you and Seungcheol wouldn’t sit together in those. Harder in others, as the two of you had started to share tables ever since your deal.

This particular period of Binns’ class is no different. You find a seat, alone, and a mere row from the door, perfect for an easy exit. On the other hand, Seungcheol is seated rows ahead of you, at the front of the class.

When the bell rings, Seungcheol quickly gets up, making his way through the rows to the back of the class. Through to you. You’re too quick for him though, already having had your things put away, slinging your bag over your head, and racing out the door, into the crowd of students.

Once in the hallway, you knew you shouldn’t, but you can’t help but glance behind you to see if Seungcheol’s following. You see him come out of the classroom in a frazzled frenzy, frantically looking around until he finds and locks eyes with you. Determined, he pushes up his glasses and makes his way to you through the sea of students.

But you, you know how to blend into a crowd, and soon enough, you’ve put so many students between you and him that, by the time he wades through all of them and comes out the other side, you’re long gone.

For the past week, your dark room has been your source of comfort. You’ve been holing up in there so that no one (read: seungcheol) could find you. There’s a large backlog of film for you to develop though, and it serves as a good distraction. Besides, this is where you used to live. Before any of this. Before Seungcheol. In the past, if you weren’t in class, you were out taking photos, and if you weren’t taking photos, you were in here, developing them.

You prefer this, anyhow. Whispers are starting to travel amongst the students, as it quickly tends to around Hogwarts. The way people watch you in the hallways, staring, then ducking their head to whisper with their friends when you catch their eye. You know they’re talking about you and Seungcheol.

Courtesy of Soonyoung, you’ve been also taking your meals in the newsroom. With print day for the next issue looming closer, he doesn’t question it, just brings in food from the great hall twice a day.

Today, the newsroom is a full house. Soonyoung’s called in a meeting to get prepared for print day, and every member of the paper is present.

“As you all are aware, we are a little under two weeks away from the next issue.” Soonyoung and you are sitting up on a table, legs dangling off the ground. The rest of the team have pulled up chairs in front of you, like an audience. “What’s everyone working on? And anything I or Wallflower can do to help?”

Your team writes well under the pressure of a deadline, but Soonyoung still likes to know what to expect for the upcoming paper spread. He likes to be as prepared as possible.

Soonyoung looks around the team and points to Eunchae, a spunky little witch in the very front, “How about we start with you, Cactus.”

Eunchae chews obnoxiously on some droobles gum, making a smacking noise when her lips touch with a pop. “I’m working on an article about someone switching out the soap in the prefects bathroom with muggle laundry detergent.”

“Okay, good. Hoshi likes that one,” Soonyoung says, noting it down on his parchment. “Alright, who’s next?”

Chan meekly raises his hand.

Soonyoung points his quill at the boy, “Go on Dino, what’ve you got?”

“I’m working on tracking down all the paintings Professor Hildred stole.” Chan looks down at his notes, “What they are, how much they’re worth, and, if possible, how much he sold them for. My father works at the Ministry so I may be able to get some information out of him.”

“Great,” Soonyoung says, “love it. Pudding? How about you go next.”

Raveena sits up, pushing her coke bottle glasses up her nose. She’s seated between Chan and Eunchae. “I am working on an article for the gossip column.”

Both you and Soonyoung perk up. She hadn’t mentioned any lead she’s been working on. You’re typically the one to sneak photos for this, so you’re doubly confused. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, you’re worried by what she’s about to say.

“I hear,” starts Raveena, “that the Hogwarts’ It Couple is currently on the rocks.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders drop and you hold your breath. “Who’s the It Couple?” He asks warily, but he, and everyone else in the room, already know the answer.

“Our own Wallflower and Head Boy Seungcheol Choi.”

Despite anticipating this, your blood runs cold.

As if the ice cold dagger Raveena has stabbed into your back wasn’t enough, she pushes it deeper in when she asks, “Will you go on the record about it? I’ll take a quote from you or Golden Boy, I’m not picky.”

Everyone is staring at you, waiting for you to respond.

“No,” you say curtly. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong between me and Seungcheol a-and—” you falter. Except that there was something wrong, and you might just be making a fool of yourself right now. You clear your throat, “There is absolutely nothing on the rocks about me and Seungcheol.”

Raveena has never been one to let a loose thread go though. She likes to pull at it and pull at it, until it’s completely unraveled, and there’s no thread left at the end.

“People are saying that, since Seungcheol lost the Quidditch game, you no longer want to be seen in public with him.” Raveena presses on, “They’re saying you two haven’t been seen together or on speaking terms in the days since the game.”

“That’s preposterous!” You laugh, but there’s no mirth. “All over a stupid game?”

“So you think Quidditch is stupid.” Raveena starts writing on her parchment.

“Stop writing that down, that’s is not me going on the record. And I would never stop speaking to Seungcheol just because of some game!”

Raveena pauses her quill, “So there’s another reason you’ve stopped speaking to Seungcheol.”

“We haven’t stopped talking!” You shriek. “You know that’s not true.” Liar. You were lying straight through your teeth.

“I actually don’t know anything of the sort. Again,” says Raveena, “are you going on record with this?”

“You can’t write about us,” you hiss out, aware of the eyes of every single person at the paper on you.

Raveena scoffs, “What do you mean we can’t write about you guys. What, you think you’re above the paper?” She’s standing now, hand on her hip, quill pointed accusingly at you. “If you won’t give a comment, fine. But don’t forget that the first article that started this paper was about you.”

You’re frozen as Raveena digs her ice dagger deeper into your back, until its sticking out of your chest.

“So maybe don’t look down on us when some of us are trying to do our bloody jobs,” Raveena snaps.

Before you could retort, and before things could get any more heated with either of you saying something you’d regret, Soonyoung interjects, hopping off the table and placing himself in front of you. “Alright everyone, let’s get back to work. I want you to give me your article outlines before you leave today.” It’s rare for the team to not listen to Soonyoung, and without contesting, everyone starts to get up, including Raveena, taking their chairs away and getting back to work.

Soonyoung turns around to face you, lips pursed, looking troubled. You don’t say anything, hopping off the table and heading into your dark room.

Soonyoung follows right behind you, catching the door when you try to slam it closed, and slipping inside the room, closing the door softly behind himself.

“Wallflower, what in gobby stones is going on with you today?”

You respond with silence, the only sound being that of the shelves and drawers you were banging around.

“Are you and Seungcheol okay? Did something happen?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, not you too.” You slam a shelf door hard enough for the entire wooden case to rattle. “We’re fine,” you bite out, “Just because we’re not attached to each other’s arse like every other couple at this school doesn’t automatically mean that something’s wrong.”

Soonyoung puts his hands up, “I’m not saying that. I’m just worried.” He chews his bottom lip, choosing his next words carefully, “Look, I haven’t asked, because you said you’d tell me if something was ever wrong.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “What are you getting at?”

Soonyoung gulps, but continues, “I’ve been bringing you your meals with no questions asked, and I’ll continue to do so. But if something’s going on, I want to know what it is.” Then quieter, in a whisper, he says, “I won’t let you shut me out, Wallflower. Not like last time. Not again.”

You swallow. It wasn’t something you liked to think about, but Soonyoung did have good reason to think that you were shutting him out again like 4th year.

In some ways, you already had, in not coming clean about the fake dating from the start. Hiding something this huge from him felt awful, a sinking feeling in your gut. A part of you wonders if now is a good moment to open Pandora’s box and tell him the truth.

“Seungcheol and I had an argument,” you start slowly. “It was after the game. But it was small, inconsequential. Since the game, we’ve both been really busy and he felt like his head duties weren’t getting completed and I felt like I was slacking at the paper, so we’re just trying to catch up. It’s left little time to spend with each other, that’s all.”

“And that’s all?” Soonyoung doesn’t look convinced.

“That’s all it is,” you say firmly.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say, irritably.

Soonyoung huffs, “Wallflower, have you ever thought of, and humour me for a moment here, talking to him about it?”

You scoff, “About what exactly?”

“See!” Soonyoung motions his hands at you, “You’re lashing out. You lashed out at Pudding, and now you’re trying to bite my head off next.”

You grit your teeth, “Get to the point, Hosh.”

“I think that whatever your little argument was about, you’re still upset about it.”

You face away from him, not responding. Your hands grip the edge of the table in front of you, knuckles turning white.

“Seriously Wallflower, whatever it is, you can’t avoid him forever. He’s your boyfriend, you have to face him eventually.”

You purse your lips, “I’ll think about it, okay? Does that satisfy you, Sir Hoshi?”

“For now.”

You roll your eyes, “Come here, help me with this set. These photo’s aren’t going to develop themselves.”

It’s been days since your talk with Soonyoung. You hadn’t made any move on his suggestion, but it lingered in the back of your mind every time you saw Seungcheol in class. As usual, you spend all your time outside of class in your dark room. Print day is a mere two days away, and most of your nights are spent in there instead of your bed.

Which is how Wonwoo find you this evening, as you’re leaving your dark room, locking the newsroom door behind you and charming it away.

He’s panting and out of breath, like he’d been running. And you think you spot a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head.

“Where the hell have you been. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak, and he sounds angry, like there should be steam coming out his ears.

“I’ve just been around.” You look up and down the hallway, but there’s no one there (and definitely no Seugncheol). “What’s going on, is something wrong?”

“Seungcheol’s in the infirmary,” he spits out and your mind goes blank.

Wonwoo begins walking, heading in the direction of the infirmary.

“What? Why?” Your legs follow after him on their own accord. “Did something happen? Is he okay?” Your questions come out in rapid succession.

Wonwoo and you both set into a light jog, and you struggle to keep up with his long legs. “No idea what’s wrong, we were having Quidditch team meeting and he just, suddenly collapsed.”

You startle while pushing the infirmary doors open and they close up again. “You’re on the Quidditch team?”

Wonwoo freezes, a questioning look on his face, “Yes? I’m their seeker.”

You shake your head and push all the way through the doors this time, stalking into the infirmary. It’s quiet, and there’s no sign of other students or Madame Pomferey.

“He’s probably overworked himself,” you grumble as you walk down the row of cots, “I knew this would happen.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything to stop it?”

“Me?” You whip around to exclaim, “And what exactly could I have done.”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“Yes, exactly. I’m his girlfriend, not his mother.” Additionally, you mutter, “Also have you tried getting that boy to do something he doesn’t want to.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, “Well, I also know you haven’t talked to him in weeks.”

This catches you off guard. “How do you know that?”

“Who doesn’t?” Wonwoo pushes his glasses up his nose. “Anyone with eyes can see it.” He gives you a look, “He also might’ve told me you’ve been avoiding him.”

“Yes, well,” you don’t meet Wonwoo’s gaze and and make your way to where you see Seungcheol, at the end of the row of beds, “That’s none of your business.”

“He wanted to apologize, you know, for how he spoke to you after the game.”

Seungcheol is asleep. Or at least, he looks like he is. His face is pale, almost grey. According to Wonwoo, Pomfrey gave him something that knocked him out into a deep sleep.

“Captain’s got a lot on his mind,” Wonwoo says, “Quidditch means a lot to him. Losing that badly? He takes all the responsibility on himself.”

“But there’s like ten other people on that team!” You try to keep you voice down, hissing a whisper, “Surely he can’t think the loss was all his fault?”

“Sounds stupid to us, but he’s the captain. To him, if he did better, then the team would’ve done better.” Wonwoo sighs, “Look, Captain . . . he’s just always been like that. Tends to take all responsibility for most things. How do you think he became Head Boy?”

You pull up a chair, taking a seat next to Seungcheol. To see his face devoid of any emotion, so still and flat, it was unsettling. It also brought you back to the last time you spoke to him, his face looked the same then.

“I don’t think he’s been sleeping much this week,” says Wonwoo. “Not that he slept much to begin with but,” Wonwoo looks at you, “he got better you know, when he started dating you. We all saw it. We think he might’ve actually started sleeping through the night again.”

Wonwoo chuckles, “He’d been going easier on us during practice too, until the game that is.”

You take one of Seungcheol’s hands into you own. It’s cold. So unlike him, to be this cold.

“He really thinks he messed it all up with you,” Wonwoo says in a hushed tone.

“What? Wonwoo, what are you talking about?” It’s like you’ve opened Pandora’s box. You’d never heard Wonwoo speak this much. Though, maybe you’d also never really given him the chance. Now that you think about it, you’ve asked Wonwoo more questions tonight than you had since you met him.

“Captain. He thinks you’re never going to forgive him. That you won’t even give him the chance to apologize because you’re already done with him.”

Wonwoo watches as you cup Seungcheol’s hand in between yours, maybe in hopes of warming it up. But your own hand just as cold, if not colder, than Seungcheol’s.

“I think you already have though,” says Wonwoo. When you look at him questioningly he adds, “Forgiven him.”

You look back down at Seungcheol, leaning over to brush his hair out of his face, lingering on his forehead, which is just as cold as his hands. “Yeah,” you breathe, “I have.”

“You know, you could’ve been in Gryffindor for how much pride you have,” Wonwoo laughs. It’s not much, but it does bring a half smile out of you.

“I can stay with him,” you tell Wonwoo. “You should go back to your dorms. Before you get in trouble for being out of bed. No one will be upset at me for sticking around and I’ll figure something out if they do.”

“And Wonwoo,” you say as he begins to leave and he turns back to look at you, “Thank you. For coming to find me.”

He sends you a small smile, “I’m just glad I was able to get to you before someone else did.” And with that he leaves the infirmary.

You place your palm fully over Seungheol’s forehead, and you think you feel Seungcheol’s eyebrow twitch, but then its gone. There’s a folded bed sheet on the cot behind you and you grab it, unfolding and laying it out over Seungcheol. Then you take a seat once more, Seungcheol’s hand back in yours again.

You watch the steady rhythmic up and down of Seungcheol’s chest as he breathes and your eyelids grow heavy as it lulls you into sleep.

When you awake, you find a fleece blanket has been thrown over your shoulders. There’s a crick in your neck as you lift your head up off the edge of the cot.

Seungcheol is sitting upright, leaned up against the headboard, and eating out of a small dish of sliced apples in his lap.

“Morning, love.” His voice is deep from unuse, and his eyes look tired as he gives you a small smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No,” you shake your head, looking around the infirmary with bleary eyes. A yawn threatens to break out of your mouth.

Seungcheol lifts his small bowl of apple, silently offering you a slice, and you decline with a soft shake of your head, still trying to gather your bearings.

After Wonwoo left, you must have fallen asleep.

There’s a silence as you realise that you’re still holding Seungcheol’s, or he’s holding yours now. His hand, wrapped softly around yours. They’re warm again, back to normal. He starts rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back of your hand, like he knows your mind is starting to race and he’s trying to calm you down.

It almost works.

Both of you break the silence at the same time.

“I’m sorry for—”

“What the hell happ—”

You both clamp your mouths shut. Then Seungcheol starts again first.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was upset, but that’s no excuse, and I should’ve never spoken to you like that.” His words aren’t rushed, not like that day at Scrivenshaft’s. This time, he apologizes calmly, gently, like he’s had time to think about exactly what he’d like to say. He then adds on, softly, “I hope you can forgive me.”

You can’t even think about what he’s saying though, your mind racing with a million other concerns, questions for Seungcheol. “Seungcheol, what happened? Wonwoo told me you haven’t been sleeping.” Seungcheol mutters something that sounds oddly like snitch, but you ignore him, continuing on. Your voice has been raising with each word and you shake your joined hands at him, “How can our Head Boy take care of us if he can’t even take care of himself?”

“Wait,” Seungcheol says, perplexed, “Is that all you have to say?”

“Seungcheol, I thought the whole point of our deal was so that you’d take more time for yourself. That includes to sleep.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows are deeply furrowed, “You don’t have anything to say about what I just said?”

You continue to ignore him, “You’re burning yourself out. You may have just passed out this time, but something really bad can happen to you if you keep this up.”

Seungcheol, exasperated, says, “Okay but, do you or do you not forgive me?”

“Seungcheol, I’m being serious,” you say, “What if something worse had—”

Seungcheol tugs you forward by the hand, and you have to brace your free hand on his chest to keep from falling on top of him entirely. You gulp as he brings his face mere centimeters from yours.

“Princess, do you,” he enunciates every word carefully, “or do you not, forgive me?” He’s looking straight into your eyes and you stare right back into his, losing yourself in the deep brown, amber flecked abyss. “Do you?” He asks again

You nod back soundlessly, trying not to think about your hand still on his chest.

Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, “And do you know what you’re forgiving me for?”

“For being mean. For yelling at me.” Your voice is quiet, but firm, firmer than you were expecting it to be.

“There we are,” Seungcheol murmurs. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek. You try to shy away, but his hold is firm. He thumbs at the prominent dark bags under your eyes. “You know, you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping much either.”

“Been busy,” you mumble.

Seungcheol makes a tsking noise with his tongue, “Now that won’t do.” He rubs his thumb over your cheek, and you let him. “How about this, I’ll take better care of myself if you promise to do the same.”

“Promise to take care of you?” You ask dumbly, but full of earnest.

Seungcheol lets out a laugh, eyes crinkling. He brings his forehead to touch yours, “No silly, if you promise to take care of you.”

You close your eyes, suddenly feeling really shy, wanting very much to curl into yourself. Your noses touch, and his lips are so dangerously close to yours.

Seungcheol’s warm breath fans over your lips when he speaks again, “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you breathe out, thankful you didn’t stutter.

“Then it’s a deal,” Seungcheol presses a soft kiss to your forehead, near your hairline, and you stiffen.

He’s still delirious. Whatever Madame Pomferey gave him has clearly made him out of his mind.

Seungcheol sits back up against the headboard, “You should go, love. Poppy will let me out soon enough. I’ll come find you when she does.”

He lets go of your hand and you already miss the warmth.

History of Magic is truly one of the worst ways to start off your day. It’s a torturous class led by Professor Binns, a ghost who’s got a finger on the pulse of what Hogwarts students find interesting about as much as he’s got an actual pulse.

A slip of parchment slides over to you. You decipher the chicken scratch on it as I’m bored.

And? You write under it, sliding the parchment back over to Seungcheol, who’s seated next to you.

Something you’ve learned sitting next to Seungcheol in class is, that this kid has absolutely no sense of focus. It’s astonishing he’s ranked top of the class, you don’t know how he even gets through exams.

Entertain me :(, Seungcheol scribbles back. You make a face at his nearly unintelligible scrawl.

Pay attention!!

Its a minute or two before Seungcheol slides the parchment back. Do you hate me? Next to it, he’s drawn a rotund big eyed owl with a single tear falling out.

You roll your eyes and write a straightforward answer back, Yes.

He draws an arrow through the heart of the owl. You ignore it. He draws more arrows flying at the owl, animating them with a simple charm, and then you take the parchment from him.

Under the owl, you write a question, What are you doing tonight?

Homework? Seungcheol answers under it.

No, later, you write.

Dinner?

You huff before writing LATER again, this time underlining it three times.

Prefect rounds? He writes.

You hesitate for a moment before deciding to write down: Meet me at the astronomy tower after midnight. You aggressively slide the parchment in front of him and turn your attention back to the professor. It takes everything in you to not turn and watch Seungcheol’s reaction to your command, or to see how he’d respond back.

Seungcheol slips the parchment back in front of you, but you don’t look down at it. He shakes it softly, not wanting to make too much noise. Not that anyone was paying attention to you two in the back of the classroom.

You glance down briefly and see that at the very bottom of the parchment, he’d written What for?

You ignore the question, instead taking notes on the intricacies of the goblin wars.

Seungcheol mirrors you from earlier and huffs, underlining the What for? three times and shoving it on top of your notes.

But you don’t answer him.

The bell rings, signifying the end of class. You shove your things into your bag and turn to Seungcheol, “I’ll see you later tonight then,” not even giving him a chance to decline.

With Hildred gone, there’s no Arithmancy class until they find a substitute, and you’re essentially free for the rest of the day.

Seungcheol tries to grab your hand before you can run off, but your reflexes have been getting faster, putting even sir captain oh captain to shame. You dodge his hand, slipping out of the room and into the crowd in the corridor.

The rest of the day is spent in the newsroom. In between setting film up to develop, you go over your notes from class. Chan joins you during his lunch to help sort out the stacks and stacks of photos you have. At some point, Soonyoung brings in a tray of sandwiches from the kitchens, and then it’s back to work.

You help Soonyoung out with the layout of this issue. Moving articles and photos around. Changing type sets with simple charms.

You also strategically avoid Raveena. Still upset from the team meeting, you’ve done all you can to not cross paths with her when in the newsroom, and so far it’s worked.

Raveena writing that article felt like a betrayal. She was supposed to be on your team, so why did it feel like she was working against you. It wasn’t right.

You hear from some of the others that Raveena has decided to scrap the article altogether, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. Apparently, she has a new lead she’s working on, but has been keeping quite hush-hush about. Which is in and of itself, insane. It’s wild to start an article from scratch two days before print. And how Soonyoung has allowed it, you don’t know. How tight lipped she staying about it also worries you. You don’t trust her anymore, and it makes you sad.

With help from Chan, you manage to sort through the large stack of photos the two of you have taken the past couple weeks, and now it’s time to select the ones to use for the paper.

Chan picks out a photo he was able to snap of Professor Hildred being carted away by Ministry officials. How or when he was able to catch a shot of this you don’t know, but you can’t say you’re not a little proud of the kid.

Though he’s just a third year, you feel he’s already grown so much at the paper and you feel content in leaving the photography task to him next year.

You sift through the photos Chan took of the last Quidditch game. There’s a photo of Seungcheol, snow flurrying around him, yelling as he whacks a bludger away from himself. His goggles cover half his face, but with the way the rest of his face is scrunched up, you just know that his eyebrows have that signature furrow. Glancing to the side, you see Chan is focused on his own pile, a stack of the Halloween decorations in the Great Hall, and you slyly put the photo of Seungcheol in your robe pocket.

As the night goes on, you find yourself in front of the rolling board in the back of the newsroom, playing around with the layouts of the articles and corresponding photos. Soonyoung was busy huddled over another student’s article, line editing their finished piece.

You glance up at the clock on the wall and curse, it was nearly midnight. You do a final once over of the board, telling Chan, “Let Hoshi know I’m done looking over the mock layout, will you?”

“Where’re you headed? Bit early for you to head to bed, no?”

“Just somewhere I need to be, don’t worry about it,” you ruffle Chan’s hair and he scowls, trying to swat your hand away.

You’re able to slip out of the room without anyone else noticing and begin to make your way down the corridors, hoping there’s no patrols on the route you take back to Ravenclaw tower. You needed to grab something before you head up to the Astronomy tower to meet Seungcheol.

You sprint all the way up Ravenclaw tower, which was a harder feat than you’d expected, winded as you head inside your dorm room.

It’s dark and the girls are all in their beds. There’s a faint glow of light from Mythili’s bed, but the curtains are drawn around it, and you doubt she can hear you anyways.

You pull the soft blanket off your bed, folding and rolling it up in your hand, and then you’re off again.

You run down the stairs, through the corridors, all the way to the Astronomy tower, careful to keep your wand light not too bright as to not wake the portraits up. Being outed as a student out of bed is not how you want this night to go.

As you take breaks while climbing the stairs up to the Astronomy tower, you curse the builders of this castle. Why are there so many bloody stairs?

At the top of the tower, you smell the fresh air and the cool breeze feels nice on your overheating skin. The skies are clear today, and you thank Merlin for that, as it is jut what you need for what you’re doing tonight.

Seungcheol is sitting on the ground, propped up against the wall of the castle. His arms are crossed over his chest, legs sticking straight out, and head tipped into his shoulder as he nods off. He starts at the sound of your shoes clacking against the stone floor, head nearly banging against the castle wall.

Seungcheol lets out a big yawn, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes with the back of his hand. The glow of the moonlight halos on his handsome face.

“Sorry,” you wheeze out, still struggling to catch your breath. “You’re probably so tired of waiting for me.”

You keel over, keeping the blanket bundled tightly in your arms, to take in a large gulp of air. Running was not something you did often, or at all really. Physical exertion was not your strong suit.

This makes Seungcheol get up instantly, pushing himself up from the wall.

“Are you okay?” he puts his hands on your arms and you stand up straight still breathing heavily.

“I’m fine—” wheeze “—just haven’t—” wheeze “—ran in a while.” Ever, really, but he didn’t need to know that.

Seungcheol looks on at you with concern, hands still firmly clutched around your biceps, “Are you sure? You don’t seem okay to me.”

You try to shove him away with the blanket rolled up in your arms, but he keeps an iron grip on you, “Oh stop being such a worrywart, I’m fine.”

Seungcheol glances down at the blanket in your hands, “Princess, did you want to watch the stars with me?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Shut up,” you mutter, shoving him away again, more pathetically and with far less power than before. This time, he lets you, stepping back with a soft stumble, not dropping his teasing smile.

“Sorry again for making you wait.” You unravel the blanket spreading it out flat on the stone floor. “We’re dropping another issue of the Whistler soon—don’t tell anyone—so we’re a bit on crunch time. I lost track of the time.” You kneel down, the stone floor cold against your bare knees, and smooth the blanket of any folds.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” Seungcheol waves a hand at you, stifling a yawn behind the other. “I was finishing up rounds with the prefects anyhow.”

You pause, hand holding on to a corner of the blanket, “Merlin, I shouldn’t have asked you to come out so late.” So used to running nocturnal, it hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps Seungcheol might’ve wanted to sleep. “I didn’t even think. You just got out of the infirmary too.”

Seungcheol crouches down to your level. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Princess,” he waits for your eyes to shyly meet his, “I could be on the brink of death, and I would still do anything or go anywhere that you asked me to.” He holds your gaze until you suddenly let go of the blanket and shove him over, making him land on his butt with an oof.

“Harrowing Hippogriffs!” Hands fly up to cover your mouth in shock, “I’m sorry—I just—Seungcheol! You can’t say things like that.”

Seungcheol’s wearing a wide grin as he gets up and dusts his hands off, wiping them on his robes. “And why is that? Afraid you’ll fall in love with me?” He winks, dimple on full display, almost mockingly.

You cast him a silent glare then slip your shoes off before taking a seat on the blanket, patting the empty spot next to you for Seungcheol to sit. If he notices how your cheeks were burning all the way to your ears, he doesn’t say anything, instead silently mirroring you taking off your shoes and coming to sit next to you.

The two of you sit in silence. There are so many things you want to say, but you don’t have the words for any of them. You want to tell him why you asked him to come here tonight. That, yes, you wanted to show him the stars. You wanted to ask him why he was so angry over a game. Why he would take that out on you of all people? Why was he overworking himself to the bone. None of this gets past your tongue though, and you let the silence cloak the two of you.

There’s a gust of wind, sending a cold shiver down your back. All the warmth from your little jaunt through the towers has dissipated, and you’re back to reality: it’s winter in Scotland, you’re outside in the middle of the night, and it is cold.

Seungcheol sighs, “Where on earth is your robe?”

In your haste to leave the newsroom, you’d left your robes draped over a chair by the rolling board. Now, your skirt barely reaches your knees, and your school shirt is as thin as a sheet. There’s another light breeze and a shiver wracks through you again. Hands rub up and down your arms, trying to warming yourself up.

Seungcheol grumbles to himself as he unclasps his robes and throws it over your lap to cover your legs. He then murmurs, swishing his wand about, and a thick fleece blanket in scarlet red appears. It glows as Seungcheol taps it a couple of times, then returns back to normal.

“What are you—” Seungcheol shushes you, unfolding and throwing the red blanket over your shoulders.

With no energy left to argue tonight, your fingers curl around the soft fleece, bringing the blanket tight around you. The woodsy smell of Seungcheol floods your senses, lingering hints of bergamot and grass coiling around you. It also seems Seungcheol’s put a heating spell on it, and the blanket warms up your body, no longer feeling the cold of the night.

Seungcheol crosses his arms together, turning to look at you, “So, why’d you want me to meet you here, Princess?”

“The stars.” You state, matter-of-factly

“The stars?” He grins, bumping your shoulder with his, “So you did want to watch the stars with me!”

Just when you thought your cheeks had calmed down, another blush begins to bloom, and you’re thankful for the shadow surely cast across your face right now.

“There’s something about them.” You bring your knees up, wrapping your arms around them and looking up at the sky. “They’re millions of miles away, these burning balls of gas, containing an infinite number of other galaxies. And here we are, like little tiny ants in the grand scheme of things.” You sigh, pulling the blanket closer around you, “Really puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

Seungcheol hums in understanding. He leans back on his hands while you set your cheek on your knees, turning to look at him. There’s a gust of wind and Seungcheol’s hair goes flying every which way. In a rare sighting outside Seungcheol’s rigidity, his shirt’s untucked and necktie loose, flying to the side with every puff of wind. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you see the goosebumps trail up his arms. A light shudder runs through him and you frown.

In a moment of spontaneity, without thinking it through, you lift an arm up, holding half his blanket up, “Come here, we can share.”

Seungcheol doesn’t jump at the chance of warmth, and maybe if you were anyone else, you’d be a tad bit offended. “Are you sure?” His eyebrows furrow, skeptical. Unsure if you’re asking because you want to, or only because you feel bad. And he wants the former, not the latter.

You shake the blanket in response and, tentatively, he sidles up to you, taking the end of the blanket from you and wrapping it around his back.

His arm is tense as it presses up against you, but then you feel him relax, settling into the warmth.

The familiar creep of trepidation starts up again, and try as you do to push the monster back down, or ignore it, it crawls up your throat, threatening, no, screaming to be let out.

But, as Seungcheol presses closer, something changes. A warm feeling pools in your gut when Seungcheol pulls the blanket tighter around you two, his arm pushing firmer against yours, and letting his knee knock against your leg.

Seungcheol radiates warmth and comfort and for a moment, just a moment, you allow yourself to lean into it.

“Seungcheol,” you say softly

“Yes, Princess?”

The moniker sends a shiver down your spine. Seungcheol, thinking you’re still cold, pulls the blanket even more snug around you two, completely pressed up against your side now. He pulls part of his robes down, making sure they’re fully covering your legs.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything. What’s worrying your pretty little head, hm?” He teasingly knocks his head into yours.

You clear your throat before asking, “Why were you so angry? After your Quidditch match?” You don’t dare to look at him, worried how he’ll react to your question, despite saying you could ask anything.

If you had though, maybe you would’ve caught how red his ears turned.

Seungcheol takes a moment to think before answering. The moment is long enough, you think he’s not going to answer at all, and you’ve most likely ruined the night.

“Again, I’m so sorry about that day,” he starts, “I’m embarrassed with how I reacted.”

“I’m not asking so you’d apologize again.” You put your cheek back on your knee so you could look at him, trying your best to not let any frustration leak into your voice. “I’m asking because I want to know why.”

“Because it’s Quidditch. Quidditch is important,” Seungcheol says, as if that answers everything.

“You’ve said that before.” Seungcheol cocks his head in question and you elaborate. “The first time you asked me to be your girlfr—fake girlfriend.” You clear your throat, hoping he didn’t notice the slip up. “You said what really matters is Quidditch.” And, because you feel the need to, you add, “I’m not making any judgements—”

Seungcheol gives you a look, pursing his lips.

“Okay, so I’m making some judgement. But it’s just a game!” You voice starts to rise a little, “I don’t understand why simply losing would make you lash out like that. Seungcheol, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speak to someone that way, and trust me I’ve observed you a lot lately.”

“You’ve been watching me?” Seungcheol may mean it teasingly, but this time, it doesn’t land. This time, its your turn to furrow your eyebrows at his deflection, and your mouth downturns in a frown.

“Oh don’t be upset Princess, I was just teasing.” Seungcheol brings his knees up like yours and and sets his chin on them.

“I love Quidditch,” Seungcheol says, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “It’s the only thing that keeps me from going crazy.” He briefly glances at you, “Well, one of the only things, at least.”

“It’s my last year,” Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh, “After this year, I’ll be in Healer training and there won’t be any time for Quidditch. They say a team’s only as good as their captain, and I feel like I really let my team down.”

You nod in understanding. While you don’t entirely get it, you could begin to.

Seungcheol rests his cheek on his knees, so he can look at you properly, “I really am sorry I said all those things to you, love. I can’t apologize enough for that.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “No need to keep apologizing Seungcheol.”

He stares into your eyes, “It was mean. No matter how I was feeling, I never should’ve taken it out on you.”

You don’t respond. Just silently watch as the moonlight hits his face, washing it in an ethereal glow, a light breeze flowing through his bangs.

He takes your silence as absolution. “Why did you ask me to see the stars with you?”

“I think you’re working too hard, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol snorts and you press your lips into a thin line.

“I’m being serious. You’ve got too much on your plate. I think you need to learn to let loose a little. Do something that’s not school for once.”

He scoffs, “That’s funny, coming from you.”

You head flies up, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seungcheol brings a hand up to cup your cheek, and you keep yourself from flinching. He rubs his thumb gently over your seemingly dark under eyes. “I mean, when was the last time you left the newsroom the same day you entered it, and went to bed at a reasonable hour? When was the last time you got a full nights sleep?”

You squirm under his touch, but don’t make any move to push his hand off. “I sleep.”

“Not what I asked, love.” Seungcheol drops his hand. “I see how much coffee you drink. You down Nocturnas Brewery like it’s water. How many cups have you had today? Four? Five? Six?”

You grumble about how you weren’t here to talk about you, unsure how this conversation has suddenly flipped.

Seungcheol sniffs, pouting, and then seems to silently make up his mind about something.

He takes his wand out, half the fleece blanket falling to the floor causing you to shiver from the loss of warmth, and waves it over his lap, conjuring up a fluffy white pillow. Placing it behind you on the floor, he tugs the blanket from around you. The cool air blasts against your skin, and your teeth chatter against each other.

Seungcheol lays back on half the pillow, hitting the empty space next to his head with the back of his hand. “Come on,” his voice drops into a commanding tone, “we both need to rest. You can see the stars better from down here anyways.”

You wonder if this is how he speaks to his team, before grudgingly laying back, your head nearly touching his.

Seungcheol tosses the scarlet blanket over you two, seeing to it that it covered you entirely, as to not let any cold air under.

The heat spell keeps it warm and toasty under the blanket and you decide to indulge in the dark of the night, scooching in a little closer to Seungcheol.

He snakes an arm under you and you let yourself sink into his side, breathing in his scent. He smelled like boy, but also like the citrus of his soap, and an earthy mix of the grassy pitch and Forbidden Forest. His hot breath fans against your cheek every time he breathes out, and you smell a faint hint of mint. It’s less panic inducing, and instead there’s something more grounding about it. A certain familiarity in Seungcheol that keeps the monster at bay.

As difficult as it was, you try not to think of Seungcheol too much as you look up at the night sky, littered with the sparkle of stars.

“My favourite is Cygnus.”

“Who?”

“Cygnus. He’s a Swan.” You point up at a mass of stars, “And that’s Deneb in there. She’s one of the brightest stars in the sky.”

Seungcheol presses his cheek up against yours to follow your finger up into the starry sky. You try not to be distracted by how nice and warm, and soft, his cheeks feel on yours.

“They say there was this guy, Phaeton, son of the sun god. He went out to ride his father’s sun chariot, but he lost control of the reins. So Zeus, this lightning guy, shot him out of the sky, bam!” You whip your hand across the sky, miming a lightning strike. Seungcheol tightens his hold around your waist, keeping you in place.

“Lightning bolt to the chariot, and down it falls.” Your fingers trail downwards, “Down onto Earth, and into a river called Eridanus. According to the story, Cygnus, his lover, spent days diving into the river to collect all his bones.” You look on mournfully at the constellation.

“He loved him so much,” you whisper sadly, “All he wanted was to to give him a proper burial.”

Seungcheol hums along, and pushes his cold nose into the crook of your neck. He smiles against your skin when you yelp from the sudden cold and he tries to press closer.

You don’t let it phase you as you continue, though you can’t help but stammer a little, “T-the gods were so touched by his devotion, they turned Cygnus into a swan and placed him in the skies.”

Seungcheol mumbles into your neck, “I’d dive for your bones too, Princess, are you gonna turn me into a star?”

You make to kick his shin, but this just makes Seungcheol laugh and he rolls you into him, both his arms wrapping around you. You ear is pressed up against his chest, and you swear you can hear the badum badum of his heart beating through his shirt.

“How do you know all this?” Seungcheol’s fingers absentmindedly draw shapes on your back. “This isn’t something that’s covered in Astronomy.”

His fingers pause as he waits for an answer.

“We almost made an astrology column at the Whistler. I did a lot of research for it, but the idea ended up falling through. Something about the stories though, of the different constellations, they stuck with me. I find the stars . . . fascinating, I guess.”

You wriggle your arm out from under his to point up at another cluster of stars, “See those there? That’s the big dipper. It’s like, a massive soup ladle. And in the corner, the really bright star? That’s the northern star.” Seungcheol hums in understanding, and you can feel the thrum of vibration against your neck. “The big dipper is part of a bigger constellation, Ursa Major. She’s a bear.”

You hold your hand up like a bear claw and make a fierce face at the sky. You can feel Seungcheol smiling again, face still buried in the crook of your neck.

“You’re not even looking at the sky,” you whine.

Seungcheol laughs again, “Okay, okay.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm to placate you, and you’re ashamed to admit, it does calm you down a little. “You know so much about the night sky, love. Now how about we close our eyes, just for a little bit, yeah?”

He pulls you in closer, if that was even humanely possible, adjusting to tuck you under his chin.

You don’t know what to do about his belt buckle that sort of digs into your hip. Or the way his legs tangle with yours.

But, he holds you tenderly against his warm chest, and you hear the rhythmic beat of his heart once more, letting it lull you into a false sense of security. Your arms come up to curl around him, and you close your eyes, letting yourself relax into the comfort of him.

As he asked, for just a little bit, you’ll close your eyes. You’ll close your eyes, and you’ll forget. Forget that this isn’t real. Forget that Seungcheol is not your boyfriend. Forget that this isn’t real.

The first sign that something is not right is the sunlight that warms your face.

Second, it’s the sound of birds chirping. Third, it’s the two strong arms wrapped tight around you while your legs are tangled with Seungcheol’s.

Seungcheol

Your eyes fly wide open as panic settles its way into your chest.

Seungcheol’s face is buried in your hair and he’s snoring lightly.

“Seungcheol,” you hiss, trying to pat him awake, “Seungcheol!”

You try to pry his arms off you, but it has opposite of the intended effect. Seungcheol groans in his sleep, wrapping his arms tighter around you, and resumes snoring.

“Seungcheol!” You try again, this time attempting to shove him as hard as you can with your whole body. While you’re successful in rolling Seungcheol over on his back, he takes you with him, arms still in an iron grip around you.

His eyes fly open as your face hovers above his.

“It’s morning,” you say in a vexed voice.

Seungcheol smiles lazily, eyes in a tired squint. “Good morning, Princess.” His voice gruff from sleep.

You huff, “No, Seungcheol. It’s morning!”

His eyes widen, tearing them away from you, cursing as he looks around at the bright sunny skies and you two on top of the the Astronomy Tower. He loosens his grip around you and you can finally slip out. The two of you struggle to quickly unfurl out of the scarlet fleece blanket wrapped around you two, elbows and knees bumping into each other.

“It’s morning.” Seungcheol tries to clear the sleep out of his voice. “When did it become morning?”

“Let’s just close our eyes for a little bit,” you say in a mocking deep voice, scoffing at the end.

“I didn’t think we’d sleep through the night!”

“Well we did,” you sneer, “so get up pumpkin.” You straighten your shirt and skirt to look less ruffled. “Do you know what time it is?”

Seungcheol feels around for where he discarded his glasses last night, and when he checks his watch, he drops a saccharin string of curses. He scrambles to stand up, charming his blanket and pillow away as you grab your blanket off the floor to fold up.

“I cannot believe you let us sleep till morning,” you snap. Not that you’ve ever been time to your first class, but that was irrelevant as far as Seungcheol was concerned.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Seungcheol gripes. “Also, I didn’t make you do anything, so don’t snap at me,” his voice turning up at the end in a pouty whine. He grabs the robe off the floor and thrusts it at you, trading you for the blanket in your hands, and tapping his foot as you put your arms through the sleeves, clasping the front hook.

The two of you hurry down the stairs and rush down the corridors to the changing staircases. Seungcheol puts an arm out to stop you at the bottom of a flight of stairs, right before a tall arched doorway. He puts a finger to his lips, peeking his head through the doorway.

Already, students are beginning to feed into the changing staircases, most likely coming from the Great Hall and on their way to their classes.

Seungcheol turns back to you, “There enough of a crowd coming out of breakfast that we’d be able to blend in and go to our dormitories. That sound good?” Seungcheol’s face is scrunched up in determination, he’s sure this’ll work. “I’ll see you in class then.”

He turns to walk through the doorway when you grab him by the arm. “Wait, Seungcheol, wouldn’t we want people to notice us?” You chew your bottom lip, “Maybe it’ll be good for people to see us together.”

His eyes flit down for a millisecond. “Princess, we want people to think I’m sweetly courting you at school,” he tries to hide a smile, “Not defiling you on the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night.”

You gasp, slapping Seungcheol on the arm, “We were doing nothing of the sort!”

Seungcheol laughs, ruffling your hair, “I’ll see you back in class, love.” With that, he disappears through the archway.

You fix your hair, letting the strands fall back into place, before stepping through the archway and letting the crowd suck you in.

You make it back to the Ravenclaw dormitories undetected, entering your room just as Mythili is about to head out.

She looks you up and down, and smirks, “Fun night?”

You freeze, like you’ve been caught red handed, “What?”

Mythili looks pointedly at your robes and you look down.

Sewn onto the breast is a Gryffindor patch, a lion rearing on its hind legs, and next to it, a shiny Head Boy badge is pinned. You silently curse, as your heart stops and sinks into your stomach.

You and Seungcheol forgot the robes were his.

“Speechless?” Mythili looks smug and you want to wipe the stupid grin off her face. “That fun, huh?” She lets out a laugh at your horrified look, “I’ll see you in class, don’t be late.”

a/n: it's happening!!! the fake dating commences haha. what did you think? thoughts on seungcheol and wallflower's dynamics? also isn't he literally the cutest, i love himmm 🥺

Trading Soonyoung his essay for your textbook, you flip to the chapter on antidotes. “See,” you point to a paragraph on the second page, “one of Buckley’s Three Laws of Antidotes: The number of stirs must stay consistent when creating an antidote.”

Soonyoung grumbles, aggressively crossing out a paragraph and begins rewriting it below, his quill making angry scratching noises against the parchment.

For the past few nights, this has become the norm. Dinner with Soonyoung and Seungcheol, joined by Joshua and Jeonghan. Then, as a group, heading down to the library to get some work done. You can tell it’s not necessarily how Joshua and Jeonghan would like to spend their nights but, if there’s something you’ve learned about those two this past week, it’s that they seem to appease Seungcheol’s every whim.

Tonight, there’s a new addition. A gangly sixth year Gryffindor who introduces himself as Wonwoo Jeon. His glasses are comically thick, almost as thick as Raveena’s, and he hasn’t spoken a single word since he’s sat down next to Joshua.

An arm casually draped across the back of your chair, Seungcheol has abandoned his studying, opting to chat with his friends across the table instead.

Despite not actively touching you, it feels as though his arm is radiating the heat of a thousand suns against your back, pulling your focus away from Soonyoung’s essay like planets to the sun.

Soonyoung throws his quill down on the table, frustrated, “It’s getting late and my brain can’t function anymore. I’m calling it.” He lets out a defeated sigh, “You’ll have to help me finish later, Wallflower.”

“We should all probably get to bed.” Seungcheol looks pointedly at you, “Especially you. You need your rest for tomorrow.” He stands up, grabbing your bag off the floor, and slinging it over his shoulder, on top of his own. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Joshua’s eyes flit between you and Seungcheol, confused, “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”

You avoid everyone’s gaze as you stand up, rushing to grab your textbook off the table. Soonyoung’s probably got the same stupid smirk he had when you mentioned your date this morning. A quick glance proves you right, yet this time he’s added in the stupid wiggling of his eyebrows.

Joshua turns to Jeonghan, “What’s he talking about?” But Jeonghan shrugs, making an i-don’t-know-your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine face, shaking his head.

Seungcheol plucks the textbook out of your hands, slipping it into your bag, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m taking my girlfriend to Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

Jeonghan faux vomits at the word girlfriend and Joshua smacks him upside the head.

“Thanks,” you whisper under your breath, grabbing the rest of your things. Seungcheol definitely hears you because he smiles, eyes turning into half moon crescents.

When you go to grab your bag from Seungcheol, he dodges your hands. You scowl at him.

“Jeonghan, you can vomit all you want, but one of us has a date tomorrow, and it isn’t you,” says Seungcheol cheekily.

You try for your bag again, but damn Seungcheol and damn his Quidditch reflexes. He gracefully turns out of your reach.

“Come on, Princess—” your breath catches “—let’s get you to bed.” Seungcheol starts walking backwards, and has the audacity to wink at you, motioning his head to the library exit.

You clutch an inkwell tight in your hand, debating whether or not to launch it at Seungcheol’s head, when Jeonghan says, “You should go. Before Sir Head Boy here starts rattling off the negative impacts of not getting a full nights sleep.” Ironic. If there was anyone who got less sleep than you, it was Seungcheol.

“Goodnight Wallflower,” Soonyoung says behind you and you raise a hand to him without looking. You stalk past Seungcheol, but not before pushing your inkwell and quills into his chest.

Seungcheol drops them into your bag and scurries after you, trying to catch up to you in the dim corridor, “Slow down. Hey, Princess, slow down.”

You halt, whipping around to face Seungcheol, and it catches him off guard. He skids, putting his hands up as to not run into you.

“Why—” you hiss “—do you keep calling me that?”

The hallway’s deserted, but you still do your best to keep your voice down.

“What?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, “Princess?”

“Yes,” you spit out. “That.”

Seungcheol pushes his bottom lip out in a pout, cocking his head to one side, “If I’m the Prince of Hogwarts, wouldn’t that make you my Princess, Princess?”

His logic checks out, and you hated him for it. It made you want to rip all your hair out and scream. But that, would be a tad bit dramatic.

Seungcheol takes your silence as animosity and bends down to bring his face close in front of yours, intently locking his eyes with yours, “What would you rather I call you then, love?”

You want to look anywhere but at him, but his face is so damn close to yours. Defiantly, you jut your chin out, “My name, perhaps?”

He feigns thinking, straightening back up again, “Mm, no, I think Princess sounds better,” and shuffles around you to begin walking to your dormitories.

You roll your eyes and jog to catch up, walking alongside him. “Look, you don’t have to carry my things for me and walk me to my dorm every night. I’m perfectly capable of doing all these things myself.” You make one last futile attempt at grabbing your bag but Seungcheol swiftly shifts it to his other side, away from you. “I didn’t make it to my seventh year unable to do anything, you know.”

Seungcheol smiles to himself. “Never said you couldn’t, love,” he says softly.

“Stop calling me that,” you snarl. A quick look around the hallway finds it empty, “There’s no one even here, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t have to what? Be an adoring, loving boyfriend?”

“We’re not even dating!” You cry out.

“Shhp!” Seungcheol puts a finger to his lips, then points up. Following his finger, you look up at the portraits covering the tall walls all the way up until they disappear into the darkness above.

Ah, yes, the walls are always listening.

It takes everything in you to not stomp your feet in petulance, though there is still an underlying irritation in every step as you continue walking.

The two of you trudge your way up Ravenclaw tower, the spiral staircase feeling never ending tonight. At the top, Seungcheol reminds you, “As far as anyone’s concerned, we are dating. Don’t forget that.”

You open your mouth to argue but Seungcheol cuts you off, “I don’t want to hear it. You know I’m right.”

That he was. But you weren’t going to tell him that.

The bronze eagle knocker glints from the luminosity of the moonlight cascading through the high windows of the tower.

Seungcheol leans up against the wall by the door, “I don’t think you’re weak, or that you can’t help yourself. I’m doing this because, as your boyfriend, it brings me joy to do this.” Fake boyfriend, you want to correct him.

Your nose twitches and you knock the knocker a little harder than necessary.

The bronze eagle’s voice booms, “I can take decades to build but a day to destroy. What am I?”

Barely needed a moment to think, you answer, “Trust.” The door swings open and you turn to Seungcheol, “It brings you joy to do these things?”

Seungcheol grins, crossing his arms, “It does. You also get so angry, Princess. It’s cute.”

Cheeks burning, you shove him, yanking your bag away while he stumbles off the wall, stifling a laugh behind his fist.

“Sleep well, love. I’ll see you in the morning,” he calls out as you enter your common room. You slam the door without looking back, but you can still hear his giggles as the door closes shut.

Morning greets you like a chessboard to the face.

All throughout the night, you shifted in and out of consciousness. You couldn’t have had more than a couple of hours of steady sleep.

On your way to the bathroom, you tiptoe past a sleeping Mythili. She snores softly, half her body hanging off her bed, and you double back to push up her hanging limbs, tucking them in under her blanket. Mythili stirs for a second, then resumes snoring, curling an arm under her pillow.

In the bathroom, you almost can’t recognise the girl staring back at you in the mirror. Dark eye bags shade your under eyes and your skin is starting to take on an almost sickly pallor.

Last night was unkind to you, but so was the night before. As was the night before that. This was your new normal, you just had to get used to it. The sleepless nights are starting to take it’s toll though, and you’re beginning to look a little worse for wear.

You wash your face, and along with it, try to wash away any unfriendly thoughts clouding your mind.

No amount of scrubbing could wash one thought away though: what exactly was one supposed to wear on a date?

It feels childish. A Hogsmeade trip is nothing special. For years, you’ve been going on them with Soonyoung and Raveena, and never once did you put an ounce of thought into what you were going to wear.

The angel on your shoulder tells you to wear whatever you normally would. That Seungcheol wouldn’t care, this is all for show anyhow.

The devil, on the other hand, he had other thoughts. What if wearing your regular robes is unconvincing? What if it did matter to Seungcheol? What if he felt like you weren’t putting enough effort into this facade?

Soonyoung would probably have a separate collection of robes for dates alone. A selection of designer robes flicker through your mind and you shake your head to rid of the unhelpfulness.

Rummaging through your trunk, you finally decide on some dark charcoal grey robes. They’re less shabby than your navy ones, and you definitely did not want to show up in your school robes.

Mythili is still snoring when you’re done changing. Sunlight begins to stream brighter through the windows, and you pull the curtains shut around her bed before leaving.

When you arrive at the front hall, Seungcheol is nowhere to be found. You push one of the large entrance doors open, stepping out into the cold air, and into a flurry of white.

Snow.

Climbing down the snowy front steps, you reach a hand out. A snowflake lands on the tip of your finger, melting on contact. Your fingertips turn pink as the snowflakes melt one by one on your hand, a shiver running through you from the rush of cold.

“Morning, Princess,” a familiar voice whispers against your ear.

Your heart nearly stops and you whip around, cursing, “Galloping gargoyles! Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol’s bent over laughing, both arms wrapped around his waist, and eyes crinkled into two half moons. You shove him and he barely stumbles, still cackling.

“Need to get you a bloody bell around your neck,” you mutter. A gust of wind blows past, another shiver running through your back.

A scowl replaces Seungcheol’s cheery smile, “Why aren’t you wearing a jumper?” He’s got on thick dark navy robes and a striped Gryffindor scarf around his neck. “Didn’t you know it was snowing out?”

“Didn’t look out the window.” You wave an apathetic hand at him, “I’m fine.”

As you descend down the stairs, snow flurries into your face with a stronger gust of wind. Shoulders shake as another shiver vibrates through you and you sputter, brushing the snow out your face and hair.

Seungcheol harrumphs, coming to stand in front of you, one step below, bringing you two face-to-face. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he’s unwinding the scarf around his neck and wrapping it around yours.

“What are you—”

Seungcheol shushes you and your mouth clamps shut. He focuses on meticulously wrapping the scarf around your neck, fastening your robes closed over the bottom of the scarf.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m gonna let you come with me without keeping warm.” He pulls your hood over you head, careful not to touch your face while pushing your hair away, tucking it under the hood.

“Let me?” You glower down your nose at him.

“Sorry, sorry. Forgot you’re a big girl who does everything herself with no help at all,” he says in a patronizing tone as he fixes the scarf to make sure it’s completely covering your neck with no gaps. “That’s why you came out into the freezing cold without a jumper. Or a scarf.” For a second you think you hear wrong, but you swear he mutters idiot under his breath.

You open your mouth to argue but he lifts an eyebrow, as if daring you to say something. You shut your mouth quickly, teeth grinding in frustration as you lift your chin at him in silent defiance.

There’s always an air of both confidence and righteousness that seems to float around Seungcheol. It drove you mad, always putting you on the defense, countering your hesitance with all things concerning Seungcheol. A hesitance that you couldn’t push away, no matter how hard you tried to press past it.

And above all, you hated not having the last word.

Seungcheol pulls the collar of your robes up before smoothing them out. He turns to walk down the last few steps, then begins on the path to Hogsmeade, not getting very far before realizing you’re still frozen on the stone steps. “You coming or not?” He calls out, and you shake yourself out of your reverie, hurrying down the steps to the path to catch up.

The two of you walk side by side in silence. It’s a few minutes up the hill when Seungcheol clears his throat, “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

You stop in your tracks and it’s takes Seungcheol a few steps to notice you’re not next to him. He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You didn’t plan the date today?” You blurt out. In response, Seungcheol cocks his head to the side in puppy fashion.

“You’re the one who told me to come out with you—” you’re unable to stop the indignation from leaking into your voice, “—and you don’t even have anything planned?”

Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows again, lower lip jutting out in a pout, “You said you had errands to run, I thought that’s what we were doing?” His eyebrows shoot up and he points an accusatory finger at you, “You! You want to be taken out!” He widens his eyes and turns to point a finger at himself, “By me.”

“W-what?” You stammer. “I want no such thing, thank you very much. I—” You look anywhere but at Seungcheol and the smirk growing on his face. “I just don’t like my time wasted,” you wrap your arms around yourself. “Or liars. If you say you’re going to do something, I expect you to do it.” With that, you stomp past him, and he follows you with his eyes before jogging to catch up.

Seungcheol walks backwards, trying to catch your eyes, “Admit it, you were looking forward to our date today.” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s probably got on a smug smile, you can hear it in his voice. You plod along, the path to Hogsmeade feeling doubly longer than usual.

Seungcheol hums before turning back to walk in tandem with you, hands clasped behind his back. “Well, as your amazingly loving and adoring boyfriend, I have no set plans for today other than doing only whatever it is you would like to do, Princess.”

You’re glad for the snow and the scarf, allowing the red of your burning cheeks and ears to go unnoticed.

High street is bare this morning. There’s a gentle thrum of town locals, grabbing a coffee at the inn, picking up their post, running their weekend errands. Seems as though you and Seungcheol are the first few students to make your way up here.

“Where to first?” Seungcheol asks softly as the two of you stand in the town entrance.

Snow builds lightly on your shoulders as you think. There was no reason to push back any further on this. The date wasn’t happening, so you might as well buck up and take the opportunity to get your shopping list done.

Mentally going over the things you need, you land on your first stop. “Apothecary?” Your voice wavers with hesitation, but Seungcheol doesn’t contest.

“Lead the way.”

The Apothecary is a little shop at the end of the street. Squeezed between the post office and Gladrags, it’s a short wooden building, painted night black, with a thatched roof that seems to be caving in.

Seungcheol hesitates before following you in through the doorway, face filled with concern when the wooden door pops off its top hinge.

It’s dim inside, the tinted windows letting in the smallest ray of light. Except, upon closer look, the windows weren’t tinted at all. Instead, years of grime had built up on the glass pane, coating it the same jet black as the walls.

On the front window sill, sits a fluffy black kneazle. Its beady yellow eyes follow you as you crouch down to scratch the little monster behind the ear.

“Hiya Zeeks,” you coo. The kneazle swishes his pointed tail in response.

“Zeeks?” Seungcheol lifts a hand to tentatively pat the little guy’s head. The kneazle closes its eyes and purrs in return, stretching his neck out so Seungcheol can get under his chin.

“Short for Ezekiel. The owner keeps him around to catch the mice.” You stand up and motion to a thin, bald, and scraggly looking man at the front counter. A black eye patch covers his left eye, and when he smiles in your direction, a couple teeth are missing. “This way, the stuff I need is further in the back.”

Seungcheol grimaces as you lead him past jars of fish eyes, lizard tails, and things he couldn’t even begin to describe. There’s a fine layer of dust coating the shelves and he avoids touching them. “How often do you need new ingredients?” He eyes a jar filled with bezoars.

“Depends,” you say, grabbing two packets of dried poinsettia powder, turning them over in your hand. “I try to grab stuff when we have a Hogsmeade weekend but, I’ll order things by post if we don’t. If I’m experimenting with new potions, I need new ingredients more often.” You pick up a third packet of poinsettia powder and move on, walking down the aisle to a section with claws hanging from the ceiling. “Generally, I make big batches though, and they tend to keep for a while if you don’t open the stopper.”

Seungcheol hums, following you around the Apothecary like a puppy, watching, as you push aside a jar labelled ‘bat spleens’ to reach behind and grab one filled with a thick burnt orange coloured liquid . You turn the jar over in your hand, and Seungcheol’s able to read the label, salamander blood. He holds back a gag and follows as you eventually take your selection up to the front counter, making small talk with the owner as they ring you up.

Seungcheol is swift to grab your bag of things before you can and at this point you know better than to argue, letting him sling it over his head, hanging it across his chest.

“Where to next, Princess?” asks Seungcheol, as the two of you exit the store.

Your breath catches and you wheeze, trying to cough it off like it was nothing.

Taking a deep breath, making sure your voice doesn’t waver, you say “Scrivenshaft’s? Unless there was somewhere you wanted to go?” You bite your bottom lip, looking at Seungcheol.

His eyes flit down for just a moment, then he clears his throat, shaking his head, “No, nothing for me. Scrivenshaft’s it is.”

The street’s busier than before. With the sun further up in the sky, and the snow having decided to pause for a bit, more people have made it out of the woodwork.

“Sorry we’re just doing my boring errands today.” Students crowd the street, donning familiar scarves of maroon, blue, green, and yellow, and you two weave through them, making your way to Scrivenshaft’s.

“No, this is nice,” Seungcheol says firmly. “It’s far more interesting than what I’d normally do here in Hogsmeade.”

You side step a student, careful not to brush shoulders with them, “What is it you normally do?”

Seungcheol scrunches his nose, “Weasley’s shop? Three Broomsticks? Maybe Hog’s Head if we’re feeling extra mischievous?” He doesn’t notice you staring at him as he speaks.

The sporadic gusts of wind have made his hair go in every which direction, and he sniffles, using a hand to push his glasses up his nose, which, along with his cheeks, are rosy pink from the cold. You notice a little scar on his eyebrow, the faintest slit where his eyebrow hair never grew back in.

You’re about to ask him how he got it when a kid runs past, slamming into your shoulder on their way.

Flying sideways into Seungcheol, he immediately pulls you by the arm to his other side, out of the way, before a second kid racing past could run into you as well.

“Oi!” Seungcheol barks after them, “Watch where you’re going!” He turns back to you, and goes to put a hand on your shoulder, before curling it into a fist and awkwardly dropping it to his side.

“Are you okay?” Concern laces his words.

You lie straight through your teeth, “Yeah, I’m fine.” There’s a dull ache in your shoulder, your heart won’t stop racing, and you feel like you’re going to vomit.

Seungcheol looks unconvinced while you breathe through your nose, trying to steady your heart by counting backward from 10.

At 7, someone else bumps into your back, causing you to stumble into Seungcheol’s chest, top of your head knocking against his chin. Seungcheol curses angrily under his breath as his hand flies to your shoulder to steady you. When you look up at him, he’s got his eyebrows knitted in that signature furrow, and he asks softly, “You okay?”

You think you nod, but you’re not sure, your eyes going out of focus. What you do know is that the monster crawling through your stomach is making you feel sick and you want Seungcheol to just make it stop. Through your cloudy mind, you feel Seungcheol’s hand travel down to grasp yours. His hand is warm, gentle, and you can feel callouses on the pads of his palm.

Then, he’s leading you through the crowd, muttering to himself, “No sense of personal space.” His fingers lace with yours and he’s got a firm hold as he looks above the heads in the crowd, trying to find the best path through the crowd.

The crawling feeling still sits in the pit of your stomach. But now, it’s accompanied by another feeling. An unfamiliar one. Stomachache? No. Anxiety? Also no.

Comfort? Maybe.

You try to shake the feeling, and Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tightens, bringing you closer into his side.

The two of you make it to Scrivenshaft’s in one piece—surprising, since you’re sure Seungcheol’s laser eyes should’ve burned through someone —and Seungcheol opens the door, bell tinkling above, leading you both into warmth.

Inside, it’s as though you can breathe again. Seungcheol huffs and, as if only just now noticing he was holding your hand, quickly shakes it off.

His glasses fog up from the rise in temperature and he runs a hand through his hair, scrambling to apologize, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked. Didn’t mean to—I’m sorry. It’s just the crowd and you—who just runs like that? Without looking where they’re going?”

Seungcheol’s chest heaves up and down, he’s breathing so hard, rushing to get his words out. He wipes at his glasses with the edge of his sleeve.

You make an attempt to calm him down, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s fi—”

But Seungcheol is quick to interrupt, “I wasn’t thinking. But, there was just so many people.” His eyes are wide and erratic, you’ve never seen him like this before. “I would never, not without ask—”

“Seungcheol,” you place a hand on his arm. “Seungcheol, it’s fine. I’m okay. Thank you.”

This seems to give Seungcheol pause.

“I’m okay,” you repeat.

He swallows, choosing his next words carefully. Voice barely a whisper, he says, “You know I would never force you to—”

You squeeze his arm and he freezes, “Seungcheol, I know. It’s fine. It’s okay.”

You were not fine, and you definitely were not okay. Your heart felt as though it was going to pump straight out of your chest, there’s a buzzing in your head, and skipping breakfast? The best decision you’d made this morning with how your stomach was churning. However, none of that was because of Seungcheol.

Seungcheol. The way his eyebrows are drawn together in concern. The intent way he’s looking at you, like he wants to say something, but just doesn’t know how.

You don’t understand why he was even this upset. Not when even you weren’t that pressed about this. You knew what was wrong with you, you were used to this. What, was everyone supposed to automatically know and always move out of your way? That’s irrational. You might as well never leave your room at that point.

Out of nowhere, a burst of confidence, or insanity, courses though you, and you reach up to put a hand on his cheek. His cheeks are warm. Much warmer than your ice cold fingers.

Seungcheol puts his hand over yours, encapsulating it in his warmth, and you resist the urge to pull away.

He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. His eyebrows unfurl and you can feel his jaw unclench.

When he opens his eyes back up, you both drop your hands. Seungcheol looks a little sheepish now, the redness in his cheeks extending to his ears.

“Can I—” he mumbles something incoherent.

“What?”

He looks to your hand, rubbing the back of his neck, and whispers, barely audible, “Is it okay if I hold your hand?”

You don’t answer him. Not with your words at least. Instead, you silently take his hand in yours.

Again, you’d be lying if you said it felt good. It didn’t. But you wanted this. Not the feeling of the monster in your stomach trying to crawl its way up, or the dizzying way your mind clouds over. But to be able to hold Seungcheol’s hand. At least for the moment. At least, until it became unbearable.

The bell on the front door tinkles as someone walks through and Seungcheol pulls you into his chest, out of their way. A hand comes up to caress the back of your head and you look up at him.

“What was it you needed to get here?” Seungcheol’s voice is tender, and quiet enough that you’re sure only you can hear him. His face is so close that, if you were to rise up on your tiptoes, just a little bit, you could close the gap and kiss him. That is, if you wanted to. And if he did too. But neither of you do.

There’s a waver to your voice can’t stop when you answer him, “S-scrapbook material.”

He doesn’t comment on it though. “For scrap-booking?” He asks.

No, for playing Quidditch, you instantly want to bite back, but you don’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, you silently nod.

“Well then, lead the way Princess,” Seungcheol says softly, looking straight into your eyes. You nod.

Down the narrow aisles you go, hand still clasped around his. Somewhere past the bound journals, between the pens and coloured parchment, his fingers lace with yours, the warmth of his palm anchoring you past your unease.

You pick up some stamps with your free hand, turning them over to look at the rubber designs. Then, you move onto the coloured parchment where you struggle to sift through the pages. Seungcheol wordlessly grabs the stamps from your hand so you can browse through the papers better.

“So, you scrapbook. Got any other secret hobbies you want to tell me about,” Seungcheol asks. He leans against the shelf, some of the paper crinkling beneath his shoulder, lightly swinging your hands between the two of you.

“Not a secret. You never asked.” You rifle past the solid colours, making your way into the funky patterns. “And it’s not a hobby, just once a year for Christmas, as a gift to Soonyoung.”

He stops swinging your hands. “How come I don’t get a scrapbook?” He pouts.

“Because I’m already making Soonyoung one.” You pull him with you as you move on to the next aisle, not finding what you want in this one. “Besides, what would I even use? I don’t have any pictures of you outside of the ones for the paper.”

“But I’m your boyfriend,” Seungcheol whines, giving your arm a little tug. “How can you make some other guy a Christmas gift, but not me?” His cheeks puff up in annoyance.

You find a parchment set you like and try to shimmy your hand out of Seungcheol’s hold to pick it up. He doesn’t give up his iron grip though. You huff, “He’s not just some guy, Seungcheol, he’s my best friend.”

Seungcheol grumbles something you don’t fully catch, but it sounds a lot like “Yeah, but he’s not your boyfriend.”

Seungcheol is silent for the rest of your time in Scrivenshaft’s. It’s not a tense silence, but a comfortable one. He’s quiet as he dutifully carries your things to the counter. Quiet, as he holds your bag open for you to drop your purchases in, never once letting go of your other hand in the process.

Once outside, Seungcheol breaks his silence, “Where to next, Princess?”

You bite your lip, pondering. Seungcheol looks away, out into the sun. “Those were the only things I needed to do,” you say. Your errands were not extensive today.

“What about Honeydukes?” Seungcheol points down the street towards the sweet shop. “Do you need to restock your sweets?”

Your eyes follow Seungcheol’s finger morosely. You did need sugar quills, you were completely out, had been for a while now. But, you also needed to save coin, potion ingredients didn’t pay for themselves.

You shake your head, “No, I’m all set. If we go, I’ll just be tempted.” You can’t help the dejection in your voice.

Seungcheol’s where to next, princess? dauntingly echoes through your head. Where to next, indeed. Seungcheol may have said he’d go anywhere you wanted today, even seemed excited for it, but surely he wasn’t expecting to just be taken on errands?

You were boring. You’d also never had the task of taking someone on a date, not that this was one at this point.

The joke shop? No, you still hadn’t rid of the embarrassment from the last time you saw Seungcheol there. Besides, he said he goes there with his friends. You doubt he’d take a romantic partner there.

Shrieking shack? Seungcheol doesn’t strike you as the haunted house type.

Three broomsticks? You were already planning to meet Soonyoung there later this afternoon. No, you need something different.

Hogs head? If you’re being honest, that place gave you the creeps.

What you needed was some place students take each other on dates. A normal place. Somewhere preferably public, that other students would visit too. Somewhere everyone would see you, a place to incite the gossip train. A place that, if students were to see you, would immediately think ah, those two must be on a date.

It hits you. Of course. You know just the place.

The pink decor of Madam Pudifoot’s is still as vomit inducing as it was last time.

The two of you are seated at a small table in the center of the teashop. Seungcheol tries to awkwardly fit his thick legs under the tiny table, but he keeps bumping his knees into it. He looks on with caution at the walls covered in puce paint, side eyeing the rosewood pink curtains that hang ominously from the ceilings.

One of the waitstaff comes by to take your orders. “I’ll have a cup of tea please,” Seungcheol says. You try to be discreet and shake your head at him, but Seungcheol doesn’t take the hint.

When the waiter turns to you next, you pass on the tea. “I’ll take a coffee,” you say. This time, you know better.

“Any cream or sugar?”

“Both, please.” The waiter scribbles on their little notepad. “Can I also get a slice of cake, please?” You add on. Perhaps not the best thing for an empty stomach, but you desperately needed something sweet after the morning you’ve had.

“Absolutely. We’ll have that out soon.” They snap their fingers twice and a little cherub flies by, tossing golden confetti over you and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol looks like he’s about to cry as he shakes the confetti out of his hair and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

When the drinks arrive, Seungcheol takes a sip, and winces from the acrid taste. He clears his throat, “So, you, um, like coming to this place?”

“I guess you don’t know,” you say haughtily, “but this is the hip place to take your dates.” You take a sip of your own drink, and hold back the urge to spit it out. It has a bitter aftertaste, as though the coffee beans were burned.

Seungcheol quirks an eyebrow up, “Is it now?” He has an amused smile but you’re not finding anything funny.

The slice of cake you ordered is dry and lacks any sort of sweetness. Yet, you still shovel in a big bite, letting it stick to the top of your mouth as you chew, barring you from answering.

Seungcheol has all but abandoned his weak tea on the table. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s leaning back, watching as you down your bitter coffee to wash down the dry cake, hiding your gags in between. He shakes his wrist out, turning his watch to look at the time, “All done?”

Launching yourself over the table, you grab at Seungcheol’s wrist, tugging it towards you. Seungcheol’s caught off guard, swiftly putting out his other hand to brace himself against the table, trying not to faceplant into his cold tea. You turn his wrist over, so you can see the face of his watch. “We should get going, I told Soonyoung we’d meet him at the Three Broomsticks.” You drop his hand unceremoniously to the table with a thunk and get up to grab your robes and scarf off the back of the chair.

Seungcheol winces as he half falls onto the table, elbow barely missing his abandoned cup of tea. “We need to work on using your words, Princess,” he mutters, grabbing your bag from the ground and slinging it over his head

“What’s that?” You’re not looking at him, instead struggling with wrapping his scarf back around your neck, getting your hair stuck in between the layers.

Seungcheol comes around the table, planting himself in front of you. He swats your hands away and they fall, limp, to your side, as he unwraps the scarf and begins re-wrapping it properly.

“Next time, try Hey Seungcheol, what time is it?” He’s careful to make sure your hair doesn’t get caught, wrapping the scarf snug enough so you stay warm, but not so tight its suffocating. “Or maybe, Seungcheol, can I please take a look at your watch?” He pulls your robes closed over the end of the scarf, clasping the buckle, and smoothing his hands out over your shoulders. “Does that sound good to you?“

You swallow at nothing and bury your nose into his scarf, nodding shyly. Hints of grass and bergamot flood your senses, and as the two of you head outside into the cold, you can’t tell if your ears burn pink from the temperature, or from Seungcheol.

A flurry of snow has started up again, covering everything outside with a fresh new coat of white. It blows into your face with every gust of wind, and by the time you and Seungcheol make it to Three Broomsticks, you’re shivering to your bones.

“You head on inside, find Soonyoung,” Seungcheol says, “I need to go do something first.”

“Y-y-ou want me t-to come with you?” Your teeth chattering with every word.

“Don’t worry about me,” He opens the door to the pub and pushes you through. “Go on, warm up, I’ll be quick. Promise.” And with that, he shuts the door behind you.

The warmth of the pub immediately melts you, from your head down to your toes, and you go to find Soonyoung. He seated in the back, by the roaring fire, at a circle table with Raveena.

“Madam Wallflower!” booms Soonyoung as you approach them. “Nice of you to join us,” he says, tipping an invisible hat at you.

“As always, Sir Hoshi.” You tip your own nonexistent cap back while pulling out a chair across from them.

Soonyoung looks behind you, “Where’s the boyfriend?”

“Said he had something to do,” you shrug, “He’ll be here soon. What’re you two up to then?”

Raveena’s got a parchment on the table with scribbles of boxes all over. “The layout for the next issue.” She glares at Soonyoung, “Hoshi here thinks the front page should be Professor Hildred’s sacking.” Turning back to you, she says, “Please tell him that no one wants to hear about that old cod, and that it’s a page three at best.”

“He’d been stealing multiple paintings at the school undetected for years,Pudding,” Soonyoung throws out. “This is like, the story of the year.”

“Oh shut up.” Raveena points to you with her quill, “Wallflower and Golden Boy are closer to being story of the year than some old guy trying to make a quick coin. Speaking of—” Raveena flourishes her quill at you, “we’d still love to interview you two if you’ll let us.”

You lean over and snatch the quill out of Raveena’s hand, “In your dreams, Pudding.” You’d rather die than let yourself be interviewed for the Whistler, for your relationship of all things. “And put that away you two, before someone sees it. I’m going to go get something to drink, you two want anything?“

Raveena lets out an offended scoff before grabbing her quill back and shoving it, and the parchment, into her bag.

“Can you get me a butterbeer, Wallflower?“ Soonyoung rummages in his pocket and hands you a few sickles.

You salute, “Sure thing Boss.“

The hot chocolate you get warms you right up. Along with the hot, ever burning fireplace, you’re toasty and cozy, listening on as Raveena and Soonyoung chatter (and squabble) amongst themselves. One hot chocolate turns into two, then into three, till you’re indulging on your fourth.

“Boo,” someone whispers by your ear and you jump in your seat, nearly dropping your mug in your lap.

Seungcheol’s standing behind you, eyes crinkled into half moons, biting down a smile. He seems to be holding something behind his back.

“What the hell, Seungcheol,” you grumble, wiping your hands of the little bit of hot chocolate that had spilled.

“Aw, don’t be upset, Princess.” He grins, taking a seat next to you, “Look, I come bearing a gift.”

You perk up at the word gift, wiping at your lips with your sleeve, “A gift? For me?”

He brings a box out from behind his back, the gleam of silver instantly recognisable.

You dive for the box, “Sugar quills!” And Seungcheol lets it go with ease. He looks on endearingly as you examine it with awe, turning it over in your hands. “How did you kn—”

Seungcheol grabs the edge of your chair, pulling it close next to his, and you yelp, hugging the box tight against your chest. His face is mere centimeters from yours, but he’s not looking at you, he’s looking behind you. You turn to see Wonwoo walking up with two butterbeers in hand. He sets one down in front of Seungcheol and takes a seat on your other side. When you turn back around, Seungcheol’s face is still dangerously close to yours.

“Do you like it, Princess?“ Seungcheol whispers, draping an arm over the back of your chair.

You avoid his eyes, wrapping your arms tighter around the box, “How did you know I was out?” You had been out for weeks.

“You said so,” he doesn’t take his eyes away from yours, lips curling into a sweet smile, “last time.”

“Last time?”

Seungcheol cocks his head, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head. “When we were at Honeydukes. You said you needed sugar quills.”

He remembered that? “Thank you,” you breathe out and Seungcheol grins again, satisfied.

“Hey Wallflower, can I have one?” Soonyoung asks from across the table.

You frown and fiercely shake your head, “No, it’s for me,” turning away from him with the box. Raveena lets out a cackle as Soonyoung looks affronted.

“Here, I’ll put it away for you,” Seungcheol gently pries the box out of your tightly wrapped arms, sticking it inside your bag. He settles back into his seat, arm not leaving the back of your chair.

Your heart ticks up a little, slowly rising in bpm, and you pick up your mug, downing the warm hot chocolate in one chug, hoping to have it calm you down.

Seungcheol leans over and whispers, “Want another?” Any attempt at lowering your heartrate is quashed.

Your stare down at your empty mug, chewing your bottom lip. It’s not like its coffee, surely another couldn’t hurt. You nod shyly at Seungcheol and he breaks into the widest smile. Then he does the strangest thing. He softly bumps his head into yours, like a baby goat headbutting, before getting up.

You sink into your seat, letting half your face bury into your scarf. Embarrassment warms your cheeks, but one look around the table has you realising that not a single person is paying you two any attention.

Seungcheol comes back with a piping hot mug of hot chocolate, setting it down in front of you with a soft here you go, love, and taking a seat, arm going right back up to drape across the back of your chair.

The mug radiates warmth against your palms as you hold it between your hands. Seungcheol must’ve cozied up to Madam Rosemerta because there’s a massive dollop of whipped cream on top, more than you’ve ever received. You blow a steady puff of air, the whipped cream fluttering, and take a sip. The hot liquid scalds your tongue and you hiss at the burn, setting the mug down with a clatter.

Seungcheol brings his hand up against the back of your head, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, flustered. “It was just really hot.”

“Careful,” says Seungcheol, stroking at your hair with his thumb before resting his arm back on your chair. You simply nod, picking your mug back up to blow on it once more, hoping to cool it down enough to take another sip.

As the afternoon goes on, you find yourself sinking further and further into the warm scarf wrapped around your neck, and into Seungcheol’s side. You’re not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel warmth radiate off him. He also keeps buying you hot chocolates, filling you up with the warm liquid, making you feel cozy, and sleepy.

When you yawn for the tenth time in the span of minutes, Seungcheol decides to call it.

“I think we’re gonna head back to the castle,” he says, standing up and slinging your bag over his head, “It’s been a long day for us.”

He sticks a hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you up and out of your chair. You bid everyone your goodbyes, stifling another yawn behind your hand.

“Alright, come on sleepy head, lets get you to bed,” Seungcheol leads you outside, and you let him pull you along the path back to the castle.

He walks you up to your tower and, again, you don’t push back this time. You’re too content and full of hot chocolate to argue.

At the door of the Ravenclaw dorm, you start to take off Seungcheol’s scarf, but he stops you.

“Keep it,” he says, loosely winding it back around your neck.

You roll your eyes, “Seungcheol, I have scarves.”

“I don’t doubt you do. But keep it anyways. Wear it to my game next week.” He pauses for a moment. “You are coming right?”

Ah yes, the highly anticipated, for reasons unknown to you, Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match.

You push out your lower lip in a pout, “Do I have to go?” A hint of a whine slips through.

“Yes?” Seungcheol acts like you’ve asked him if can pumpkin’s can feel pain.

You refuse to let the stupid sport ruin your hot chocolate induced high, so you muster out a curt, “Fine. I’ll be there, I guess.”

“Okay, sound at least a little excited. I’m not forcing you to your execution,” says Seungcheol as he slips your bag over your head.

“Might as well be,” you mutter under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you straighten up, pulling on your bag strap. “Game. Next week. Wear the scarf. I’ll be there.” You throw up two unenthusiastic thumbs up as your eyes flutter shut for a second from drowsiness.

Seungcheol ruffles your hair, smiling and eye crinkling smile when you weakly swat him away with a glare. He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, “Alright, head in, get some rest.”

You hit the knocker and answer the riddle, opening up the door.

“And Princess?”

You turn to look at him, fighting back another yawn.

“I had a lot of fun today,” he says, adding softly, “Best date ever.”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, and mumble a quiet thanks, before hurrying through the door, shutting it behind you.

After the Hogsmeade trip, a unspoken barrier seems to have broken between you and Seungcheol.

Hands held fleetingly in the hallway.

The briefest of touches to the middle of your back when walking to class.

A head falling on your shoulder at lunch because Seungcheol just can’t stop laughing.

A leg pressed oh so lightly against yours under the library table.

You welcomed it, really. Every time, with every touch, it got harder and harder for the monster to crawl up out of your gut. Always with Seungcheol though. Only with Seungcheol.

There are moments, sometimes, when he’s not there, where you find yourself seeking his touch. Almost like you crave it. Missing the warmth with which his hands encapsulate yours, grounding you in way no one else ever has.

It feels absurd. Wrong, almost. But in the days leading up to the Quidditch game, you barely see Seungcheol outside of class, save for a few meals and some brief study sessions, and you hated it. Seungcheol had somehow become a constant in your daily routine, and when he’s not there you feel as though there’s an absence, a void that needed to be filled.

It was driving you mad.

Disappointment welcomes you with open arms the morning of the game. Soonyoung informs you that Seungcheol has already gone down to the pitch to prepare for today’s game. Raveena and Chan exchange a look when your face falls.

You’re wearing Seungcheol’s scarf, just like he told you to, and he’s not even here for you to show him.

“Supporting your boyfriend, eh?” Soonyoung says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up Hoshi,” you mutter, grabbing a piece of toast and spreading jam on it like it had personally offended you and you were seeking revenge against gluten. Messily shovelling it into your mouth in one go, you grab Soonyoung’s copy of today’s Daily Prophet. The crossword brings you comfort and solace, and as you solve through the clues, you feel your annoyance begin to ebb away.

Raveena waves a bottle of syrup at Chan, “Why’ve you got a camera Dino?”

One of your old cameras hangs around Chan’s neck as he chows down on some pancakes.

Raveena swings the bottle around to point at you, “Are you not taking photos today?”

You shake your head with a disgusted look, “Merlin, no.” If it weren’t for Seungcheol, you wouldn’t be stepping foot anywhere near the Quidditch pitch.

“I don’t get it,” Raveena squeezes so much syrup over her plate of scrambled eggs and toast that they begin swimming in it. Soonyoung pushes his plate away from hers as the syrup threatens to spill over. “What exactly is your issue with Quidditch.”

“No issue. Sports are just not my thing.” You spread a generous amount of jam on another slice of toast. “Say, what exactly is the big deal about today’s game? I keep hearing everyone say it’s really important but you people say that about every game.”

“Oh Wallflower,” Soonyoung lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in sorrow. You flick some jam at him and it lands on his cheek. He makes no move to wipe it off. “What’s the use of all that studying if you don’t even know the basics of the most important sport in the world.”

“If it’s sooo important, then why is it not more interesting. Hm? Someone want to explain that?” You look expectantly at your friends.

Soonyoung throws his hands in the air, letting his fork and knife drop to his plate with a clatter. “I can’t with her,” he says to Raveena and Chan across the table. “I can’t. Would somebody else like to do the honours? Dino perhaps?” Soonyoung motions to the young boy.

Chan freezes mid chew, then swallows before answering, “Uh, not really, no?”

Raveena rolls her eyes and explains in his steed, “We, Ravenclaw, already won our match against Slytherin. Our, Ravenclaw’s, next match is against Hufflepuff. You following so far Wallflower?”

“Sure.”

Raveena continues, “Today, Gryffindor, your boyfriend’s team, is playing Hufflepuff.”

Every time Soonyoung and Raveena refer to Seungcheol as your boyfriend, it sends a chill down your back. You hated lying to them, they’re your best friends, and you have to hold back the urge to correct them.

“If Gryffindor beats Hufflepuff, it means that we, Ravenclaw, can beat them. If we beat Hufflepuff, well then, they’ve got two losses under their belt going into the Slytherin game and the path to the cup is basically clear for us.”

Raveena might as well have been speaking Gobbledegook because you don’t think you understood any of that.

“Sorry, how does Gryffindor winning today mean that Ravenclaw will win our next one?” You refrain from sounding too skeptical.

“Becauff their tweam is hortheshite,” pipes up Chan, mouth full of pancake.

“Who raised you, mate? Don’t talk with you mouth full.” Raveena eyes Chan with revulsion. “What caveman here is trying to say is, they lost some big players this year. The team’s just not that good right now.”

You wanted to say you understood. Nod along, and say everything made perfect sense. But frankly, you were more confused than before.

Soonyoung lets out a frustrated huff, “Basically, if Gryffindor wins today, you guys are gonna win the whole thing.”

“But how do you know that? You’re not psychics. Witches and wizards or not, you can’t just magically know things.” This is why you didn’t bother with sports. No logic. No standards. Simply running on pure whimsy and vibes. Soonyoung shrugs in response, not offering you anything more.

The corridors are crowded as you all make your way down to the pitch. Droves of students are heading down as well, hoping to get a good seat. You do your best to side step the students, but there’s too many of them, and you can’t stop them from grazing your shoulder or bumping into your side.

By the time Raveena’s lead your group to the Ravenclaw section and you lot have found some empty seats, you’re already feeling a little sick. Wedged in between Raveena and Chan, you do your best to countdown yourself out of spiralling.

Jeonghan’s voice booms across the field, “Welcome to another Hogwarts Quidditch game. Today’s match, Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor!”

There’s a roar of applause as the two teams fly out and begin making circles around the pitch. Beside you, Chan and Raveena erupt into yells as players in red fly past.

While this wasn’t your first game, you hadn’t been to one in several years. You’d forgotten how small everyone looks on the pitch, and trying to pick out Seungcheol turns out to be much more difficult than you expected.

Gloomy clouds fill the skies as snow begins to lightly fall. Though you’d never admit it to Seungcheol, his scarf keeps you warm, and you bury your red nose into it, letting the smell of him flood your senses.

Raveena and Chan, bless their hearts, do their best to explain the game as it goes on.

“See those three?” Raveena points to the opposite side of the pitch, “They’re chasers, they try to get that big ball through those hoops. The one guarding the hoops? That’s a keeper, they try to stop the ball from going through.”

A few players by the far hoops are throwing a big red ball between themselves.

“Why do some of them have bats?” You blow on your hands, but your breath does absolutely nothing to warm them up, and you try rubbing them together to create some heat.

Chan leans over, “Those are beaters. They hit bludgers, the balls zooming around the field, at the opposing team.”

“They want to hit the other team?” One of the ones in yellow takes a hard swing at a bludger, sending it hurtling towards a player in red.

“Ooh, that’s a close one,” Jeonghan’s voice echoes through the stadium, “Chaser Seokmin Lee, dodges a nasty bludger from Riley Macint—and Elias Bucket gets a Quaffle in.” His voice slides into a deadpan, “That’s 10 points to Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff leads, 40 to 0.”

“See that one over there?” Chan points and you squint trying to follow his finger, “The one in red holding a bat? That’s your boyfriend.” You spot him, barely. He’s brandishing his bat around, yelling something that you’re too far away to decipher. If he wasn’t wearing a cap and goggles, you’d bet 10 galleons his eyebrows are intensely furrowed right now.

“Seungcheol is a beater?” There’s a gasp from the crowd as a Hufflepuff hits another bludger at Seokmin, and this time it makes full contact with his broom, sending him corkscrewing through the air.

“He was originally a chaser, and a really good one at that,” says Raveena. “But Gryffindor lost both their beaters this year and couldn’t find a second one during tryouts. Your boyfriend decided to give up his chaser position and fill in as a beater instead.”

“You don’t understand, Wallflower,” Chan cuts in. “It really rattled everything. He was such a good chaser, the best one in your year. He could’ve tried getting scouted if he wanted to. And with Mingyu and Seokmin? Those three were unstoppable. They might’ve had a chance to carry the team to the Quidditch Cup if they played together this year.”

“Why wouldn’t he just put someone else in as beater?” It made absolutely no sense to you. “If he was so good, why give up his position like that?”

“Guess he felt it was easier to train another chaser? No one knows, really,” Raveena shrugs.

“Well, how are they doing now?” You gesture to the field.

Jeonghan’s voice echoes over the pitch again, devoid of any emotion, “And that’s another goal from Bucket, Hufflepuff leads, 50-0.”

Boos erupt from the audience around you and Raveena groans, “Not well Wallflower, not well.”

You try to follow Jeonghan’s commentary along with what’s happening on the pitch, but the snow is coming down harder, making it more difficult to see what’s going on. Also, truth be told, you still really don’t understand how Quidditch works.

You’ve clearly missed something as the crowd on the other side of the field goes wild, roaring in cheers. “What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“Hufflepuff’s seeker just caught the snitch, Gryffindor just lost,” Chan says glumly. He clicks his camera to take some final snaps of the Hufflepuff team members circling the pitch.

Further down below, the Gryffindor team players touch down on the ground. You try to single out Seungcheol in the lot but, from this far away, everyone looks like little red ants.

The other students in your section begin to file down and out of the stands. You and your friends follow behind them as the crowd quietly begins their way back to the castle, shoulders downturned, devoid of any cheer.

Once inside the castle, you turn to your friends, “You lot go on ahead, I’m going to go find Seungcheol.”

They all nod in understanding and you head in the opposite direction, down the corridor towards the changing rooms.

You weren’t as familiar with this part of the castle. With your hands clean of anything concerning Quidditch, there was never any reason for you to be by the locker rooms. Perhaps, on occasion, if you were tailing someone from a team, or if someone you were tailing was hooking up with someone on a team. Point is, it was a rarity for you to be in this part of the castle.

It feels as though you’re lost, as you travel down corridors that seem to be heading nowhere of use. However, you’re positive you’re heading in the right direction. You may not be here much, but you know Hogwarts castle like the back of your hand.

Eventually, you come to a series of four wooden doors, etched with a winged circle and two bats behind it like an X. You find the one with a roaring lion insignia above the door handle, and are debating whether or not to knock first, when the door opens and Seokmin walks out.

He’s startled to see you there, your hand raised in a fist, ready to knock. “Hi,” he looks behind himself, then back at you, “You here for Captain?”

You nod, “Is he in there?”

Seokmin purses his lips, “This . . . is probably not the best time. Maybe you should come find him later?”

Your forehead wrinkles in confusion, “Later?” Seokmin was trying to ward you off, but why, you didn’t understand.

He puts up zero fight, “Your funeral, I guess.” And, though not looking too happy about it, holds the door open for you and motions his head inside, “I think he’s trying to drown himself in the shower.”

Inside, there are a few tables and benches, set up almost like a mini classroom, with a chalkboard in front. Brooms line the wall on one side, and on the other, an open doorway with no door.

You tentatively walk through to find yourself in the changing room. There are more benches, this time lower to the ground, scattered through the center of the room and kits stuffed into cubbies that line the walls around. A lone pink bottle of Ginevra Suds A Lot looks like it’s rolled across the floor, abandoned under one of the benches.

Through another doorless doorway, you can hear the sound of a shower running, steam billowing out. Eyeing the small stack of fresh clothes on one of the benches, you decide it’s best to wait for Seungcheol in the team room.

You take a seat on one of the benches. Someone carved GRYFFINDOR RULES, RAVENCLAW DROOLS into the wood of the table, and you smooth a finger over each letter.

The sound of the shower stops and metal ringlets clash against a wooden rod as a shower curtain is drawn. There’s silence, some shuffling, then Seungcheol walks in through the doorway into the team room.

He’d changed out of his quidditch kit, and into a comfortable grey hooded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. His hair, freshly washed, is sopping wet and drips water droplets onto his hoodie, leaving dark grey spots wherever they land. In his hand, he holds his (you’re assuming it’s his?) broom.

Seungcheol freezes when he spots you. “Oh,” his voice is uncharacteristically flat, “You’re here.”

“Hi.” You lift a hand up in an awkward wave, letting it drop limply into your lap when Seungcheol’s face stays stoic. “Yeah, I came to the game.” Seungcheol doesn’t respond, silently walking over to the wall to lock his broom in. “Go Gryffindors,” you cheer lamely, shaking up the end of his scarf like a pom-pom.

“Great,” he says brusquely. “That’s just great.”

“Are you okay Seungcheol?” you furrow your eyebrows in concern. This was entirely unlike him.

He won’t even look at you when he answers. “I’m fine,” he bites out. “Fantastic.”

“Well, you don’t seem fine.” You’re confused. Utterly and unbelievably confused.

“Wow, I wonder why.” He turns just enough for you to see him roll his eyes. “Look, I was kind of hoping to be alone right now. Why are you even here?”

You’re aghast, voice rising, “Why am I even here?”

Seungcheol doesn’t wait for you to continue, abruptly walking out through the main door.

You follow him out into the deserted corridor. “You’re the one that asked me to come!” You spit out. You’d even worn his stupid dumb fucking scarf, just like he’d asked. “I didn’t even want to be here!” Your shriek turns into a cough and Seungcheol turns around just in time to see you start hacking into your elbow. Sitting outside in the snow for so long did not do great things for your throat.

Seungcheol stalls, a wave of concern washing over his face. He looks as though he wants to say something, maybe reach a hand out, but in a flash it’s gone, his face flat once more, and he’s left wearing a vacant expression.

There’s no warmth in his eyes when he says, “Yeah? Then maybe you shouldn’t have come.”

You don’t know why he was being so cruel, and you take a step towards him, “Seungcheol—”

He takes an uneven step back. “Why are you still here? I don’t want you here,” he says, contemptuous.

At his harsh words, tears prick at the corner of your eyes, “Because I’m—” You’re what? His girlfriend?

You’re not his girlfriend. And this isn’t real.

“Because I wanted to support my friend. But he’s being a fucking dick.” With that, you turn on your foot, leaving Seungcheol alone in the corridor.

You wipe at the stray tears escaping down your cheek. If none of this is real, why do you feel an ache in your chest?

Maturity has never been your strong suit.

Once, in your third year, Soonyoung put a frog from Transfiguration class in your school bag, as a joke. In return, you poured frogs blood all over his brand new Gobstones set.

Last year, Chan broke your camera, the once you specifically told him to never touch or you would curse his fingers off. You wouldn’t speak to him for three whole days.

When Raveena ate the last of your sugar quills in the newsroom (they were in a charmed drawer marked DO NOT TOUCH), you stopped coming to the newsroom for almost a month.

As far as you were concerned, Maturity was one class you were never going to pass.

You begin to avoid Seungcheol for the next few days. Which, by the way, is hard because the boy’s in every one of your damn classes. But, you did what a Wallflower does best, you meld yourself into the background, the metaphorical walls so to speak, and disappear like a shadow.

Seungcheol does try to catch your attention, once, after a History of Magic class.

It played out almost comically anticlimactic.

In all your classes, you have been finding a seat as far away from Seungcheol as possible. Easy in classes with Soonyoung, as you and Seungcheol wouldn’t sit together in those. Harder in others, as the two of you had started to share tables ever since your deal.

This particular period of Binns’ class is no different. You find a seat, alone, and a mere row from the door, perfect for an easy exit. On the other hand, Seungcheol is seated rows ahead of you, at the front of the class.

When the bell rings, Seungcheol quickly gets up, making his way through the rows to the back of the class. Through to you. You’re too quick for him though, already having had your things put away, slinging your bag over your head, and racing out the door, into the crowd of students.

Once in the hallway, you knew you shouldn’t, but you can’t help but glance behind you to see if Seungcheol’s following. You see him come out of the classroom in a frazzled frenzy, frantically looking around until he finds and locks eyes with you. Determined, he pushes up his glasses and makes his way to you through the sea of students.

But you, you know how to blend into a crowd, and soon enough, you’ve put so many students between you and him that, by the time he wades through all of them and comes out the other side, you’re long gone.

For the past week, your dark room has been your source of comfort. You’ve been holing up in there so that no one (read: seungcheol) could find you. There’s a large backlog of film for you to develop though, and it serves as a good distraction. Besides, this is where you used to live. Before any of this. Before Seungcheol. In the past, if you weren’t in class, you were out taking photos, and if you weren’t taking photos, you were in here, developing them.

You prefer this, anyhow. Whispers are starting to travel amongst the students, as it quickly tends to around Hogwarts. The way people watch you in the hallways, staring, then ducking their head to whisper with their friends when you catch their eye. You know they’re talking about you and Seungcheol.

Courtesy of Soonyoung, you’ve been also taking your meals in the newsroom. With print day for the next issue looming closer, he doesn’t question it, just brings in food from the great hall twice a day.

Today, the newsroom is a full house. Soonyoung’s called in a meeting to get prepared for print day, and every member of the paper is present.

“As you all are aware, we are a little under two weeks away from the next issue.” Soonyoung and you are sitting up on a table, legs dangling off the ground. The rest of the team have pulled up chairs in front of you, like an audience. “What’s everyone working on? And anything I or Wallflower can do to help?”

Your team writes well under the pressure of a deadline, but Soonyoung still likes to know what to expect for the upcoming paper spread. He likes to be as prepared as possible.

Soonyoung looks around the team and points to Eunchae, a spunky little witch in the very front, “How about we start with you, Cactus.”

Eunchae chews obnoxiously on some droobles gum, making a smacking noise when her lips touch with a pop. “I’m working on an article about someone switching out the soap in the prefects bathroom with muggle laundry detergent.”

“Okay, good. Hoshi likes that one,” Soonyoung says, noting it down on his parchment. “Alright, who’s next?”

Chan meekly raises his hand.

Soonyoung points his quill at the boy, “Go on Dino, what’ve you got?”

“I’m working on tracking down all the paintings Professor Hildred stole.” Chan looks down at his notes, “What they are, how much they’re worth, and, if possible, how much he sold them for. My father works at the Ministry so I may be able to get some information out of him.”

“Great,” Soonyoung says, “love it. Pudding? How about you go next.”

Raveena sits up, pushing her coke bottle glasses up her nose. She’s seated between Chan and Eunchae. “I am working on an article for the gossip column.”

Both you and Soonyoung perk up. She hadn’t mentioned any lead she’s been working on. You’re typically the one to sneak photos for this, so you’re doubly confused. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, you’re worried by what she’s about to say.

“I hear,” starts Raveena, “that the Hogwarts’ It Couple is currently on the rocks.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders drop and you hold your breath. “Who’s the It Couple?” He asks warily, but he, and everyone else in the room, already know the answer.

“Our own Wallflower and Head Boy Seungcheol Choi.”

Despite anticipating this, your blood runs cold.

As if the ice cold dagger Raveena has stabbed into your back wasn’t enough, she pushes it deeper in when she asks, “Will you go on the record about it? I’ll take a quote from you or Golden Boy, I’m not picky.”

Everyone is staring at you, waiting for you to respond.

“No,” you say curtly. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong between me and Seungcheol a-and—” you falter. Except that there was something wrong, and you might just be making a fool of yourself right now. You clear your throat, “There is absolutely nothing on the rocks about me and Seungcheol.”

Raveena has never been one to let a loose thread go though. She likes to pull at it and pull at it, until it’s completely unraveled, and there’s no thread left at the end.

“People are saying that, since Seungcheol lost the Quidditch game, you no longer want to be seen in public with him.” Raveena presses on, “They’re saying you two haven’t been seen together or on speaking terms in the days since the game.”

“That’s preposterous!” You laugh, but there’s no mirth. “All over a stupid game?”

“So you think Quidditch is stupid.” Raveena starts writing on her parchment.

“Stop writing that down, that’s is not me going on the record. And I would never stop speaking to Seungcheol just because of some game!”

Raveena pauses her quill, “So there’s another reason you’ve stopped speaking to Seungcheol.”

“We haven’t stopped talking!” You shriek. “You know that’s not true.” Liar. You were lying straight through your teeth.

“I actually don’t know anything of the sort. Again,” says Raveena, “are you going on record with this?”

“You can’t write about us,” you hiss out, aware of the eyes of every single person at the paper on you.

Raveena scoffs, “What do you mean we can’t write about you guys. What, you think you’re above the paper?” She’s standing now, hand on her hip, quill pointed accusingly at you. “If you won’t give a comment, fine. But don’t forget that the first article that started this paper was about you.”

You’re frozen as Raveena digs her ice dagger deeper into your back, until its sticking out of your chest.

“So maybe don’t look down on us when some of us are trying to do our bloody jobs,” Raveena snaps.

Before you could retort, and before things could get any more heated with either of you saying something you’d regret, Soonyoung interjects, hopping off the table and placing himself in front of you. “Alright everyone, let’s get back to work. I want you to give me your article outlines before you leave today.” It’s rare for the team to not listen to Soonyoung, and without contesting, everyone starts to get up, including Raveena, taking their chairs away and getting back to work.

Soonyoung turns around to face you, lips pursed, looking troubled. You don’t say anything, hopping off the table and heading into your dark room.

Soonyoung follows right behind you, catching the door when you try to slam it closed, and slipping inside the room, closing the door softly behind himself.

“Wallflower, what in gobby stones is going on with you today?”

You respond with silence, the only sound being that of the shelves and drawers you were banging around.

“Are you and Seungcheol okay? Did something happen?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, not you too.” You slam a shelf door hard enough for the entire wooden case to rattle. “We’re fine,” you bite out, “Just because we’re not attached to each other’s arse like every other couple at this school doesn’t automatically mean that something’s wrong.”

Soonyoung puts his hands up, “I’m not saying that. I’m just worried.” He chews his bottom lip, choosing his next words carefully, “Look, I haven’t asked, because you said you’d tell me if something was ever wrong.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “What are you getting at?”

Soonyoung gulps, but continues, “I’ve been bringing you your meals with no questions asked, and I’ll continue to do so. But if something’s going on, I want to know what it is.” Then quieter, in a whisper, he says, “I won’t let you shut me out, Wallflower. Not like last time. Not again.”

You swallow. It wasn’t something you liked to think about, but Soonyoung did have good reason to think that you were shutting him out again like 4th year.

In some ways, you already had, in not coming clean about the fake dating from the start. Hiding something this huge from him felt awful, a sinking feeling in your gut. A part of you wonders if now is a good moment to open Pandora’s box and tell him the truth.

“Seungcheol and I had an argument,” you start slowly. “It was after the game. But it was small, inconsequential. Since the game, we’ve both been really busy and he felt like his head duties weren’t getting completed and I felt like I was slacking at the paper, so we’re just trying to catch up. It’s left little time to spend with each other, that’s all.”

“And that’s all?” Soonyoung doesn’t look convinced.

“That’s all it is,” you say firmly.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you say, irritably.

Soonyoung huffs, “Wallflower, have you ever thought of, and humour me for a moment here, talking to him about it?”

You scoff, “About what exactly?”

“See!” Soonyoung motions his hands at you, “You’re lashing out. You lashed out at Pudding, and now you’re trying to bite my head off next.”

You grit your teeth, “Get to the point, Hosh.”

“I think that whatever your little argument was about, you’re still upset about it.”

You face away from him, not responding. Your hands grip the edge of the table in front of you, knuckles turning white.

“Seriously Wallflower, whatever it is, you can’t avoid him forever. He’s your boyfriend, you have to face him eventually.”

You purse your lips, “I’ll think about it, okay? Does that satisfy you, Sir Hoshi?”

“For now.”

You roll your eyes, “Come here, help me with this set. These photo’s aren’t going to develop themselves.”

It’s been days since your talk with Soonyoung. You hadn’t made any move on his suggestion, but it lingered in the back of your mind every time you saw Seungcheol in class. As usual, you spend all your time outside of class in your dark room. Print day is a mere two days away, and most of your nights are spent in there instead of your bed.

Which is how Wonwoo find you this evening, as you’re leaving your dark room, locking the newsroom door behind you and charming it away.

He’s panting and out of breath, like he’d been running. And you think you spot a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his head.

“Where the hell have you been. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak, and he sounds angry, like there should be steam coming out his ears.

“I’ve just been around.” You look up and down the hallway, but there’s no one there (and definitely no Seugncheol). “What’s going on, is something wrong?”

“Seungcheol’s in the infirmary,” he spits out and your mind goes blank.

Wonwoo begins walking, heading in the direction of the infirmary.

“What? Why?” Your legs follow after him on their own accord. “Did something happen? Is he okay?” Your questions come out in rapid succession.

Wonwoo and you both set into a light jog, and you struggle to keep up with his long legs. “No idea what’s wrong, we were having Quidditch team meeting and he just, suddenly collapsed.”

You startle while pushing the infirmary doors open and they close up again. “You’re on the Quidditch team?”

Wonwoo freezes, a questioning look on his face, “Yes? I’m their seeker.”

You shake your head and push all the way through the doors this time, stalking into the infirmary. It’s quiet, and there’s no sign of other students or Madame Pomferey.

“He’s probably overworked himself,” you grumble as you walk down the row of cots, “I knew this would happen.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything to stop it?”

“Me?” You whip around to exclaim, “And what exactly could I have done.”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“Yes, exactly. I’m his girlfriend, not his mother.” Additionally, you mutter, “Also have you tried getting that boy to do something he doesn’t want to.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, “Well, I also know you haven’t talked to him in weeks.”

This catches you off guard. “How do you know that?”

“Who doesn’t?” Wonwoo pushes his glasses up his nose. “Anyone with eyes can see it.” He gives you a look, “He also might’ve told me you’ve been avoiding him.”

“Yes, well,” you don’t meet Wonwoo’s gaze and and make your way to where you see Seungcheol, at the end of the row of beds, “That’s none of your business.”

“He wanted to apologize, you know, for how he spoke to you after the game.”

Seungcheol is asleep. Or at least, he looks like he is. His face is pale, almost grey. According to Wonwoo, Pomfrey gave him something that knocked him out into a deep sleep.

“Captain’s got a lot on his mind,” Wonwoo says, “Quidditch means a lot to him. Losing that badly? He takes all the responsibility on himself.”

“But there’s like ten other people on that team!” You try to keep you voice down, hissing a whisper, “Surely he can’t think the loss was all his fault?”

“Sounds stupid to us, but he’s the captain. To him, if he did better, then the team would’ve done better.” Wonwoo sighs, “Look, Captain . . . he’s just always been like that. Tends to take all responsibility for most things. How do you think he became Head Boy?”

You pull up a chair, taking a seat next to Seungcheol. To see his face devoid of any emotion, so still and flat, it was unsettling. It also brought you back to the last time you spoke to him, his face looked the same then.

“I don’t think he’s been sleeping much this week,” says Wonwoo. “Not that he slept much to begin with but,” Wonwoo looks at you, “he got better you know, when he started dating you. We all saw it. We think he might’ve actually started sleeping through the night again.”

Wonwoo chuckles, “He’d been going easier on us during practice too, until the game that is.”

You take one of Seungcheol’s hands into you own. It’s cold. So unlike him, to be this cold.

“He really thinks he messed it all up with you,” Wonwoo says in a hushed tone.

“What? Wonwoo, what are you talking about?” It’s like you’ve opened Pandora’s box. You’d never heard Wonwoo speak this much. Though, maybe you’d also never really given him the chance. Now that you think about it, you’ve asked Wonwoo more questions tonight than you had since you met him.

“Captain. He thinks you’re never going to forgive him. That you won’t even give him the chance to apologize because you’re already done with him.”

Wonwoo watches as you cup Seungcheol’s hand in between yours, maybe in hopes of warming it up. But your own hand just as cold, if not colder, than Seungcheol’s.

“I think you already have though,” says Wonwoo. When you look at him questioningly he adds, “Forgiven him.”

You look back down at Seungcheol, leaning over to brush his hair out of his face, lingering on his forehead, which is just as cold as his hands. “Yeah,” you breathe, “I have.”

“You know, you could’ve been in Gryffindor for how much pride you have,” Wonwoo laughs. It’s not much, but it does bring a half smile out of you.

“I can stay with him,” you tell Wonwoo. “You should go back to your dorms. Before you get in trouble for being out of bed. No one will be upset at me for sticking around and I’ll figure something out if they do.”

“And Wonwoo,” you say as he begins to leave and he turns back to look at you, “Thank you. For coming to find me.”

He sends you a small smile, “I’m just glad I was able to get to you before someone else did.” And with that he leaves the infirmary.

You place your palm fully over Seungheol’s forehead, and you think you feel Seungcheol’s eyebrow twitch, but then its gone. There’s a folded bed sheet on the cot behind you and you grab it, unfolding and laying it out over Seungcheol. Then you take a seat once more, Seungcheol’s hand back in yours again.

You watch the steady rhythmic up and down of Seungcheol’s chest as he breathes and your eyelids grow heavy as it lulls you into sleep.

When you awake, you find a fleece blanket has been thrown over your shoulders. There’s a crick in your neck as you lift your head up off the edge of the cot.

Seungcheol is sitting upright, leaned up against the headboard, and eating out of a small dish of sliced apples in his lap.

“Morning, love.” His voice is deep from unuse, and his eyes look tired as he gives you a small smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No,” you shake your head, looking around the infirmary with bleary eyes. A yawn threatens to break out of your mouth.

Seungcheol lifts his small bowl of apple, silently offering you a slice, and you decline with a soft shake of your head, still trying to gather your bearings.

After Wonwoo left, you must have fallen asleep.

There’s a silence as you realise that you’re still holding Seungcheol’s, or he’s holding yours now. His hand, wrapped softly around yours. They’re warm again, back to normal. He starts rubbing his thumb back and forth across the back of your hand, like he knows your mind is starting to race and he’s trying to calm you down.

It almost works.

Both of you break the silence at the same time.

“I’m sorry for—”

“What the hell happ—”

You both clamp your mouths shut. Then Seungcheol starts again first.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was upset, but that’s no excuse, and I should’ve never spoken to you like that.” His words aren’t rushed, not like that day at Scrivenshaft’s. This time, he apologizes calmly, gently, like he’s had time to think about exactly what he’d like to say. He then adds on, softly, “I hope you can forgive me.”

You can’t even think about what he’s saying though, your mind racing with a million other concerns, questions for Seungcheol. “Seungcheol, what happened? Wonwoo told me you haven’t been sleeping.” Seungcheol mutters something that sounds oddly like snitch, but you ignore him, continuing on. Your voice has been raising with each word and you shake your joined hands at him, “How can our Head Boy take care of us if he can’t even take care of himself?”

“Wait,” Seungcheol says, perplexed, “Is that all you have to say?”

“Seungcheol, I thought the whole point of our deal was so that you’d take more time for yourself. That includes to sleep.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows are deeply furrowed, “You don’t have anything to say about what I just said?”

You continue to ignore him, “You’re burning yourself out. You may have just passed out this time, but something really bad can happen to you if you keep this up.”

Seungcheol, exasperated, says, “Okay but, do you or do you not forgive me?”

“Seungcheol, I’m being serious,” you say, “What if something worse had—”

Seungcheol tugs you forward by the hand, and you have to brace your free hand on his chest to keep from falling on top of him entirely. You gulp as he brings his face mere centimeters from yours.

“Princess, do you,” he enunciates every word carefully, “or do you not, forgive me?” He’s looking straight into your eyes and you stare right back into his, losing yourself in the deep brown, amber flecked abyss. “Do you?” He asks again

You nod back soundlessly, trying not to think about your hand still on his chest.

Seungcheol cocks his head to the side, “And do you know what you’re forgiving me for?”

“For being mean. For yelling at me.” Your voice is quiet, but firm, firmer than you were expecting it to be.

“There we are,” Seungcheol murmurs. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek. You try to shy away, but his hold is firm. He thumbs at the prominent dark bags under your eyes. “You know, you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping much either.”

“Been busy,” you mumble.

Seungcheol makes a tsking noise with his tongue, “Now that won’t do.” He rubs his thumb over your cheek, and you let him. “How about this, I’ll take better care of myself if you promise to do the same.”

“Promise to take care of you?” You ask dumbly, but full of earnest.

Seungcheol lets out a laugh, eyes crinkling. He brings his forehead to touch yours, “No silly, if you promise to take care of you.”

You close your eyes, suddenly feeling really shy, wanting very much to curl into yourself. Your noses touch, and his lips are so dangerously close to yours.

Seungcheol’s warm breath fans over your lips when he speaks again, “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you breathe out, thankful you didn’t stutter.

“Then it’s a deal,” Seungcheol presses a soft kiss to your forehead, near your hairline, and you stiffen.

He’s still delirious. Whatever Madame Pomferey gave him has clearly made him out of his mind.

Seungcheol sits back up against the headboard, “You should go, love. Poppy will let me out soon enough. I’ll come find you when she does.”

He lets go of your hand and you already miss the warmth.

History of Magic is truly one of the worst ways to start off your day. It’s a torturous class led by Professor Binns, a ghost who’s got a finger on the pulse of what Hogwarts students find interesting about as much as he’s got an actual pulse.

A slip of parchment slides over to you. You decipher the chicken scratch on it as I’m bored.

And? You write under it, sliding the parchment back over to Seungcheol, who’s seated next to you.

Something you’ve learned sitting next to Seungcheol in class is, that this kid has absolutely no sense of focus. It’s astonishing he’s ranked top of the class, you don’t know how he even gets through exams.

Entertain me :(, Seungcheol scribbles back. You make a face at his nearly unintelligible scrawl.

Pay attention!!

Its a minute or two before Seungcheol slides the parchment back. Do you hate me? Next to it, he’s drawn a rotund big eyed owl with a single tear falling out.

You roll your eyes and write a straightforward answer back, Yes.

He draws an arrow through the heart of the owl. You ignore it. He draws more arrows flying at the owl, animating them with a simple charm, and then you take the parchment from him.

Under the owl, you write a question, What are you doing tonight?

Homework? Seungcheol answers under it.

No, later, you write.

Dinner?

You huff before writing LATER again, this time underlining it three times.

Prefect rounds? He writes.

You hesitate for a moment before deciding to write down: Meet me at the astronomy tower after midnight. You aggressively slide the parchment in front of him and turn your attention back to the professor. It takes everything in you to not turn and watch Seungcheol’s reaction to your command, or to see how he’d respond back.

Seungcheol slips the parchment back in front of you, but you don’t look down at it. He shakes it softly, not wanting to make too much noise. Not that anyone was paying attention to you two in the back of the classroom.

You glance down briefly and see that at the very bottom of the parchment, he’d written What for?

You ignore the question, instead taking notes on the intricacies of the goblin wars.

Seungcheol mirrors you from earlier and huffs, underlining the What for? three times and shoving it on top of your notes.

But you don’t answer him.

The bell rings, signifying the end of class. You shove your things into your bag and turn to Seungcheol, “I’ll see you later tonight then,” not even giving him a chance to decline.

With Hildred gone, there’s no Arithmancy class until they find a substitute, and you’re essentially free for the rest of the day.

Seungcheol tries to grab your hand before you can run off, but your reflexes have been getting faster, putting even sir captain oh captain to shame. You dodge his hand, slipping out of the room and into the crowd in the corridor.

The rest of the day is spent in the newsroom. In between setting film up to develop, you go over your notes from class. Chan joins you during his lunch to help sort out the stacks and stacks of photos you have. At some point, Soonyoung brings in a tray of sandwiches from the kitchens, and then it’s back to work.

You help Soonyoung out with the layout of this issue. Moving articles and photos around. Changing type sets with simple charms.

You also strategically avoid Raveena. Still upset from the team meeting, you’ve done all you can to not cross paths with her when in the newsroom, and so far it’s worked.

Raveena writing that article felt like a betrayal. She was supposed to be on your team, so why did it feel like she was working against you. It wasn’t right.

You hear from some of the others that Raveena has decided to scrap the article altogether, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. Apparently, she has a new lead she’s working on, but has been keeping quite hush-hush about. Which is in and of itself, insane. It’s wild to start an article from scratch two days before print. And how Soonyoung has allowed it, you don’t know. How tight lipped she staying about it also worries you. You don’t trust her anymore, and it makes you sad.

With help from Chan, you manage to sort through the large stack of photos the two of you have taken the past couple weeks, and now it’s time to select the ones to use for the paper.

Chan picks out a photo he was able to snap of Professor Hildred being carted away by Ministry officials. How or when he was able to catch a shot of this you don’t know, but you can’t say you’re not a little proud of the kid.

Though he’s just a third year, you feel he’s already grown so much at the paper and you feel content in leaving the photography task to him next year.

You sift through the photos Chan took of the last Quidditch game. There’s a photo of Seungcheol, snow flurrying around him, yelling as he whacks a bludger away from himself. His goggles cover half his face, but with the way the rest of his face is scrunched up, you just know that his eyebrows have that signature furrow. Glancing to the side, you see Chan is focused on his own pile, a stack of the Halloween decorations in the Great Hall, and you slyly put the photo of Seungcheol in your robe pocket.

As the night goes on, you find yourself in front of the rolling board in the back of the newsroom, playing around with the layouts of the articles and corresponding photos. Soonyoung was busy huddled over another student’s article, line editing their finished piece.

You glance up at the clock on the wall and curse, it was nearly midnight. You do a final once over of the board, telling Chan, “Let Hoshi know I’m done looking over the mock layout, will you?”

“Where’re you headed? Bit early for you to head to bed, no?”

“Just somewhere I need to be, don’t worry about it,” you ruffle Chan’s hair and he scowls, trying to swat your hand away.

You’re able to slip out of the room without anyone else noticing and begin to make your way down the corridors, hoping there’s no patrols on the route you take back to Ravenclaw tower. You needed to grab something before you head up to the Astronomy tower to meet Seungcheol.

You sprint all the way up Ravenclaw tower, which was a harder feat than you’d expected, winded as you head inside your dorm room.

It’s dark and the girls are all in their beds. There’s a faint glow of light from Mythili’s bed, but the curtains are drawn around it, and you doubt she can hear you anyways.

You pull the soft blanket off your bed, folding and rolling it up in your hand, and then you’re off again.

You run down the stairs, through the corridors, all the way to the Astronomy tower, careful to keep your wand light not too bright as to not wake the portraits up. Being outed as a student out of bed is not how you want this night to go.

As you take breaks while climbing the stairs up to the Astronomy tower, you curse the builders of this castle. Why are there so many bloody stairs?

At the top of the tower, you smell the fresh air and the cool breeze feels nice on your overheating skin. The skies are clear today, and you thank Merlin for that, as it is jut what you need for what you’re doing tonight.

Seungcheol is sitting on the ground, propped up against the wall of the castle. His arms are crossed over his chest, legs sticking straight out, and head tipped into his shoulder as he nods off. He starts at the sound of your shoes clacking against the stone floor, head nearly banging against the castle wall.

Seungcheol lets out a big yawn, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes with the back of his hand. The glow of the moonlight halos on his handsome face.

“Sorry,” you wheeze out, still struggling to catch your breath. “You’re probably so tired of waiting for me.”

You keel over, keeping the blanket bundled tightly in your arms, to take in a large gulp of air. Running was not something you did often, or at all really. Physical exertion was not your strong suit.

This makes Seungcheol get up instantly, pushing himself up from the wall.

“Are you okay?” he puts his hands on your arms and you stand up straight still breathing heavily.

“I’m fine—” wheeze “—just haven’t—” wheeze “—ran in a while.” Ever, really, but he didn’t need to know that.

Seungcheol looks on at you with concern, hands still firmly clutched around your biceps, “Are you sure? You don’t seem okay to me.”

You try to shove him away with the blanket rolled up in your arms, but he keeps an iron grip on you, “Oh stop being such a worrywart, I’m fine.”

Seungcheol glances down at the blanket in your hands, “Princess, did you want to watch the stars with me?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Shut up,” you mutter, shoving him away again, more pathetically and with far less power than before. This time, he lets you, stepping back with a soft stumble, not dropping his teasing smile.

“Sorry again for making you wait.” You unravel the blanket spreading it out flat on the stone floor. “We’re dropping another issue of the Whistler soon—don’t tell anyone—so we’re a bit on crunch time. I lost track of the time.” You kneel down, the stone floor cold against your bare knees, and smooth the blanket of any folds.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” Seungcheol waves a hand at you, stifling a yawn behind the other. “I was finishing up rounds with the prefects anyhow.”

You pause, hand holding on to a corner of the blanket, “Merlin, I shouldn’t have asked you to come out so late.” So used to running nocturnal, it hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps Seungcheol might’ve wanted to sleep. “I didn’t even think. You just got out of the infirmary too.”

Seungcheol crouches down to your level. “Let’s get one thing straight here, Princess,” he waits for your eyes to shyly meet his, “I could be on the brink of death, and I would still do anything or go anywhere that you asked me to.” He holds your gaze until you suddenly let go of the blanket and shove him over, making him land on his butt with an oof.

“Harrowing Hippogriffs!” Hands fly up to cover your mouth in shock, “I’m sorry—I just—Seungcheol! You can’t say things like that.”

Seungcheol’s wearing a wide grin as he gets up and dusts his hands off, wiping them on his robes. “And why is that? Afraid you’ll fall in love with me?” He winks, dimple on full display, almost mockingly.

You cast him a silent glare then slip your shoes off before taking a seat on the blanket, patting the empty spot next to you for Seungcheol to sit. If he notices how your cheeks were burning all the way to your ears, he doesn’t say anything, instead silently mirroring you taking off your shoes and coming to sit next to you.

The two of you sit in silence. There are so many things you want to say, but you don’t have the words for any of them. You want to tell him why you asked him to come here tonight. That, yes, you wanted to show him the stars. You wanted to ask him why he was so angry over a game. Why he would take that out on you of all people? Why was he overworking himself to the bone. None of this gets past your tongue though, and you let the silence cloak the two of you.

There’s a gust of wind, sending a cold shiver down your back. All the warmth from your little jaunt through the towers has dissipated, and you’re back to reality: it’s winter in Scotland, you’re outside in the middle of the night, and it is cold.

Seungcheol sighs, “Where on earth is your robe?”

In your haste to leave the newsroom, you’d left your robes draped over a chair by the rolling board. Now, your skirt barely reaches your knees, and your school shirt is as thin as a sheet. There’s another light breeze and a shiver wracks through you again. Hands rub up and down your arms, trying to warming yourself up.

Seungcheol grumbles to himself as he unclasps his robes and throws it over your lap to cover your legs. He then murmurs, swishing his wand about, and a thick fleece blanket in scarlet red appears. It glows as Seungcheol taps it a couple of times, then returns back to normal.

“What are you—” Seungcheol shushes you, unfolding and throwing the red blanket over your shoulders.

With no energy left to argue tonight, your fingers curl around the soft fleece, bringing the blanket tight around you. The woodsy smell of Seungcheol floods your senses, lingering hints of bergamot and grass coiling around you. It also seems Seungcheol’s put a heating spell on it, and the blanket warms up your body, no longer feeling the cold of the night.

Seungcheol crosses his arms together, turning to look at you, “So, why’d you want me to meet you here, Princess?”

“The stars.” You state, matter-of-factly

“The stars?” He grins, bumping your shoulder with his, “So you did want to watch the stars with me!”

Just when you thought your cheeks had calmed down, another blush begins to bloom, and you’re thankful for the shadow surely cast across your face right now.

“There’s something about them.” You bring your knees up, wrapping your arms around them and looking up at the sky. “They’re millions of miles away, these burning balls of gas, containing an infinite number of other galaxies. And here we are, like little tiny ants in the grand scheme of things.” You sigh, pulling the blanket closer around you, “Really puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

Seungcheol hums in understanding. He leans back on his hands while you set your cheek on your knees, turning to look at him. There’s a gust of wind and Seungcheol’s hair goes flying every which way. In a rare sighting outside Seungcheol’s rigidity, his shirt’s untucked and necktie loose, flying to the side with every puff of wind. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and you see the goosebumps trail up his arms. A light shudder runs through him and you frown.

In a moment of spontaneity, without thinking it through, you lift an arm up, holding half his blanket up, “Come here, we can share.”

Seungcheol doesn’t jump at the chance of warmth, and maybe if you were anyone else, you’d be a tad bit offended. “Are you sure?” His eyebrows furrow, skeptical. Unsure if you’re asking because you want to, or only because you feel bad. And he wants the former, not the latter.

You shake the blanket in response and, tentatively, he sidles up to you, taking the end of the blanket from you and wrapping it around his back.

His arm is tense as it presses up against you, but then you feel him relax, settling into the warmth.

The familiar creep of trepidation starts up again, and try as you do to push the monster back down, or ignore it, it crawls up your throat, threatening, no, screaming to be let out.

But, as Seungcheol presses closer, something changes. A warm feeling pools in your gut when Seungcheol pulls the blanket tighter around you two, his arm pushing firmer against yours, and letting his knee knock against your leg.

Seungcheol radiates warmth and comfort and for a moment, just a moment, you allow yourself to lean into it.

“Seungcheol,” you say softly

“Yes, Princess?”

The moniker sends a shiver down your spine. Seungcheol, thinking you’re still cold, pulls the blanket even more snug around you two, completely pressed up against your side now. He pulls part of his robes down, making sure they’re fully covering your legs.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything. What’s worrying your pretty little head, hm?” He teasingly knocks his head into yours.

You clear your throat before asking, “Why were you so angry? After your Quidditch match?” You don’t dare to look at him, worried how he’ll react to your question, despite saying you could ask anything.

If you had though, maybe you would’ve caught how red his ears turned.

Seungcheol takes a moment to think before answering. The moment is long enough, you think he’s not going to answer at all, and you’ve most likely ruined the night.

“Again, I’m so sorry about that day,” he starts, “I’m embarrassed with how I reacted.”

“I’m not asking so you’d apologize again.” You put your cheek back on your knee so you could look at him, trying your best to not let any frustration leak into your voice. “I’m asking because I want to know why.”

“Because it’s Quidditch. Quidditch is important,” Seungcheol says, as if that answers everything.

“You’ve said that before.” Seungcheol cocks his head in question and you elaborate. “The first time you asked me to be your girlfr—fake girlfriend.” You clear your throat, hoping he didn’t notice the slip up. “You said what really matters is Quidditch.” And, because you feel the need to, you add, “I’m not making any judgements—”

Seungcheol gives you a look, pursing his lips.

“Okay, so I’m making some judgement. But it’s just a game!” You voice starts to rise a little, “I don’t understand why simply losing would make you lash out like that. Seungcheol, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you speak to someone that way, and trust me I’ve observed you a lot lately.”

“You’ve been watching me?” Seungcheol may mean it teasingly, but this time, it doesn’t land. This time, its your turn to furrow your eyebrows at his deflection, and your mouth downturns in a frown.

“Oh don’t be upset Princess, I was just teasing.” Seungcheol brings his knees up like yours and and sets his chin on them.

“I love Quidditch,” Seungcheol says, lower lip jutting out in a pout. “It’s the only thing that keeps me from going crazy.” He briefly glances at you, “Well, one of the only things, at least.”

“It’s my last year,” Seungcheol lets out a deep sigh, “After this year, I’ll be in Healer training and there won’t be any time for Quidditch. They say a team’s only as good as their captain, and I feel like I really let my team down.”

You nod in understanding. While you don’t entirely get it, you could begin to.

Seungcheol rests his cheek on his knees, so he can look at you properly, “I really am sorry I said all those things to you, love. I can’t apologize enough for that.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “No need to keep apologizing Seungcheol.”

He stares into your eyes, “It was mean. No matter how I was feeling, I never should’ve taken it out on you.”

You don’t respond. Just silently watch as the moonlight hits his face, washing it in an ethereal glow, a light breeze flowing through his bangs.

He takes your silence as absolution. “Why did you ask me to see the stars with you?”

“I think you’re working too hard, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol snorts and you press your lips into a thin line.

“I’m being serious. You’ve got too much on your plate. I think you need to learn to let loose a little. Do something that’s not school for once.”

He scoffs, “That’s funny, coming from you.”

You head flies up, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seungcheol brings a hand up to cup your cheek, and you keep yourself from flinching. He rubs his thumb gently over your seemingly dark under eyes. “I mean, when was the last time you left the newsroom the same day you entered it, and went to bed at a reasonable hour? When was the last time you got a full nights sleep?”

You squirm under his touch, but don’t make any move to push his hand off. “I sleep.”

“Not what I asked, love.” Seungcheol drops his hand. “I see how much coffee you drink. You down Nocturnas Brewery like it’s water. How many cups have you had today? Four? Five? Six?”

You grumble about how you weren’t here to talk about you, unsure how this conversation has suddenly flipped.

Seungcheol sniffs, pouting, and then seems to silently make up his mind about something.

He takes his wand out, half the fleece blanket falling to the floor causing you to shiver from the loss of warmth, and waves it over his lap, conjuring up a fluffy white pillow. Placing it behind you on the floor, he tugs the blanket from around you. The cool air blasts against your skin, and your teeth chatter against each other.

Seungcheol lays back on half the pillow, hitting the empty space next to his head with the back of his hand. “Come on,” his voice drops into a commanding tone, “we both need to rest. You can see the stars better from down here anyways.”

You wonder if this is how he speaks to his team, before grudgingly laying back, your head nearly touching his.

Seungcheol tosses the scarlet blanket over you two, seeing to it that it covered you entirely, as to not let any cold air under.

The heat spell keeps it warm and toasty under the blanket and you decide to indulge in the dark of the night, scooching in a little closer to Seungcheol.

He snakes an arm under you and you let yourself sink into his side, breathing in his scent. He smelled like boy, but also like the citrus of his soap, and an earthy mix of the grassy pitch and Forbidden Forest. His hot breath fans against your cheek every time he breathes out, and you smell a faint hint of mint. It’s less panic inducing, and instead there’s something more grounding about it. A certain familiarity in Seungcheol that keeps the monster at bay.

As difficult as it was, you try not to think of Seungcheol too much as you look up at the night sky, littered with the sparkle of stars.

“My favourite is Cygnus.”

“Who?”

“Cygnus. He’s a Swan.” You point up at a mass of stars, “And that’s Deneb in there. She’s one of the brightest stars in the sky.”

Seungcheol presses his cheek up against yours to follow your finger up into the starry sky. You try not to be distracted by how nice and warm, and soft, his cheeks feel on yours.

“They say there was this guy, Phaeton, son of the sun god. He went out to ride his father’s sun chariot, but he lost control of the reins. So Zeus, this lightning guy, shot him out of the sky, bam!” You whip your hand across the sky, miming a lightning strike. Seungcheol tightens his hold around your waist, keeping you in place.

“Lightning bolt to the chariot, and down it falls.” Your fingers trail downwards, “Down onto Earth, and into a river called Eridanus. According to the story, Cygnus, his lover, spent days diving into the river to collect all his bones.” You look on mournfully at the constellation.

“He loved him so much,” you whisper sadly, “All he wanted was to to give him a proper burial.”

Seungcheol hums along, and pushes his cold nose into the crook of your neck. He smiles against your skin when you yelp from the sudden cold and he tries to press closer.

You don’t let it phase you as you continue, though you can’t help but stammer a little, “T-the gods were so touched by his devotion, they turned Cygnus into a swan and placed him in the skies.”

Seungcheol mumbles into your neck, “I’d dive for your bones too, Princess, are you gonna turn me into a star?”

You make to kick his shin, but this just makes Seungcheol laugh and he rolls you into him, both his arms wrapping around you. You ear is pressed up against his chest, and you swear you can hear the badum badum of his heart beating through his shirt.

“How do you know all this?” Seungcheol’s fingers absentmindedly draw shapes on your back. “This isn’t something that’s covered in Astronomy.”

His fingers pause as he waits for an answer.

“We almost made an astrology column at the Whistler. I did a lot of research for it, but the idea ended up falling through. Something about the stories though, of the different constellations, they stuck with me. I find the stars . . . fascinating, I guess.”

You wriggle your arm out from under his to point up at another cluster of stars, “See those there? That’s the big dipper. It’s like, a massive soup ladle. And in the corner, the really bright star? That’s the northern star.” Seungcheol hums in understanding, and you can feel the thrum of vibration against your neck. “The big dipper is part of a bigger constellation, Ursa Major. She’s a bear.”

You hold your hand up like a bear claw and make a fierce face at the sky. You can feel Seungcheol smiling again, face still buried in the crook of your neck.

“You’re not even looking at the sky,” you whine.

Seungcheol laughs again, “Okay, okay.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm to placate you, and you’re ashamed to admit, it does calm you down a little. “You know so much about the night sky, love. Now how about we close our eyes, just for a little bit, yeah?”

He pulls you in closer, if that was even humanely possible, adjusting to tuck you under his chin.

You don’t know what to do about his belt buckle that sort of digs into your hip. Or the way his legs tangle with yours.

But, he holds you tenderly against his warm chest, and you hear the rhythmic beat of his heart once more, letting it lull you into a false sense of security. Your arms come up to curl around him, and you close your eyes, letting yourself relax into the comfort of him.

As he asked, for just a little bit, you’ll close your eyes. You’ll close your eyes, and you’ll forget. Forget that this isn’t real. Forget that Seungcheol is not your boyfriend. Forget that this isn’t real.

The first sign that something is not right is the sunlight that warms your face.

Second, it’s the sound of birds chirping. Third, it’s the two strong arms wrapped tight around you while your legs are tangled with Seungcheol’s.

Seungcheol

Your eyes fly wide open as panic settles its way into your chest.

Seungcheol’s face is buried in your hair and he’s snoring lightly.

“Seungcheol,” you hiss, trying to pat him awake, “Seungcheol!”

You try to pry his arms off you, but it has opposite of the intended effect. Seungcheol groans in his sleep, wrapping his arms tighter around you, and resumes snoring.

“Seungcheol!” You try again, this time attempting to shove him as hard as you can with your whole body. While you’re successful in rolling Seungcheol over on his back, he takes you with him, arms still in an iron grip around you.

His eyes fly open as your face hovers above his.

“It’s morning,” you say in a vexed voice.

Seungcheol smiles lazily, eyes in a tired squint. “Good morning, Princess.” His voice gruff from sleep.

You huff, “No, Seungcheol. It’s morning!”

His eyes widen, tearing them away from you, cursing as he looks around at the bright sunny skies and you two on top of the the Astronomy Tower. He loosens his grip around you and you can finally slip out. The two of you struggle to quickly unfurl out of the scarlet fleece blanket wrapped around you two, elbows and knees bumping into each other.

“It’s morning.” Seungcheol tries to clear the sleep out of his voice. “When did it become morning?”

“Let’s just close our eyes for a little bit,” you say in a mocking deep voice, scoffing at the end.

“I didn’t think we’d sleep through the night!”

“Well we did,” you sneer, “so get up pumpkin.” You straighten your shirt and skirt to look less ruffled. “Do you know what time it is?”

Seungcheol feels around for where he discarded his glasses last night, and when he checks his watch, he drops a saccharin string of curses. He scrambles to stand up, charming his blanket and pillow away as you grab your blanket off the floor to fold up.

“I cannot believe you let us sleep till morning,” you snap. Not that you’ve ever been time to your first class, but that was irrelevant as far as Seungcheol was concerned.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Seungcheol gripes. “Also, I didn’t make you do anything, so don’t snap at me,” his voice turning up at the end in a pouty whine. He grabs the robe off the floor and thrusts it at you, trading you for the blanket in your hands, and tapping his foot as you put your arms through the sleeves, clasping the front hook.

The two of you hurry down the stairs and rush down the corridors to the changing staircases. Seungcheol puts an arm out to stop you at the bottom of a flight of stairs, right before a tall arched doorway. He puts a finger to his lips, peeking his head through the doorway.

Already, students are beginning to feed into the changing staircases, most likely coming from the Great Hall and on their way to their classes.

Seungcheol turns back to you, “There enough of a crowd coming out of breakfast that we’d be able to blend in and go to our dormitories. That sound good?” Seungcheol’s face is scrunched up in determination, he’s sure this’ll work. “I’ll see you in class then.”

He turns to walk through the doorway when you grab him by the arm. “Wait, Seungcheol, wouldn’t we want people to notice us?” You chew your bottom lip, “Maybe it’ll be good for people to see us together.”

His eyes flit down for a millisecond. “Princess, we want people to think I’m sweetly courting you at school,” he tries to hide a smile, “Not defiling you on the Astronomy Tower in the middle of the night.”

You gasp, slapping Seungcheol on the arm, “We were doing nothing of the sort!”

Seungcheol laughs, ruffling your hair, “I’ll see you back in class, love.” With that, he disappears through the archway.

You fix your hair, letting the strands fall back into place, before stepping through the archway and letting the crowd suck you in.

You make it back to the Ravenclaw dormitories undetected, entering your room just as Mythili is about to head out.

She looks you up and down, and smirks, “Fun night?”

You freeze, like you’ve been caught red handed, “What?”

Mythili looks pointedly at your robes and you look down.

Sewn onto the breast is a Gryffindor patch, a lion rearing on its hind legs, and next to it, a shiny Head Boy badge is pinned. You silently curse, as your heart stops and sinks into your stomach.

You and Seungcheol forgot the robes were his.

“Speechless?” Mythili looks smug and you want to wipe the stupid grin off her face. “That fun, huh?” She lets out a laugh at your horrified look, “I’ll see you in class, don’t be late.”

a/n: it's happening!!! the fake dating commences haha. what did you think? thoughts on seungcheol and wallflower's dynamics? also isn't he literally the cutest, i love himmm 🥺

Trading Soonyoung his essay for your textbook, you flip to the chapter on antidotes. “See,” you point to a paragraph on the second page, “one of Buckley’s Three Laws of Antidotes: The number of stirs must stay consistent when creating an antidote.”

Soonyoung grumbles, aggressively crossing out a paragraph and begins rewriting it below, his quill making angry scratching noises against the parchment.

For the past few nights, this has become the norm. Dinner with Soonyoung and Seungcheol, joined by Joshua and Jeonghan. Then, as a group, heading down to the library to get some work done. You can tell it’s not necessarily how Joshua and Jeonghan would like to spend their nights but, if there’s something you’ve learned about those two this past week, it’s that they seem to appease Seungcheol’s every whim.

Tonight, there’s a new addition. A gangly sixth year Gryffindor who introduces himself as Wonwoo Jeon. His glasses are comically thick, almost as thick as Raveena’s, and he hasn’t spoken a single word since he’s sat down next to Joshua.

An arm casually draped across the back of your chair, Seungcheol has abandoned his studying, opting to chat with his friends across the table instead.

Despite not actively touching you, it feels as though his arm is radiating the heat of a thousand suns against your back, pulling your focus away from Soonyoung’s essay like planets to the sun.

Soonyoung throws his quill down on the table, frustrated, “It’s getting late and my brain can’t function anymore. I’m calling it.” He lets out a defeated sigh, “You’ll have to help me finish later, Wallflower.”

“We should all probably get to bed.” Seungcheol looks pointedly at you, “Especially you. You need your rest for tomorrow.” He stands up, grabbing your bag off the floor, and slinging it over his shoulder, on top of his own. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Joshua’s eyes flit between you and Seungcheol, confused, “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?”

You avoid everyone’s gaze as you stand up, rushing to grab your textbook off the table. Soonyoung’s probably got the same stupid smirk he had when you mentioned your date this morning. A quick glance proves you right, yet this time he’s added in the stupid wiggling of his eyebrows.

Joshua turns to Jeonghan, “What’s he talking about?” But Jeonghan shrugs, making an i-don’t-know-your-guess-is-as-good-as-mine face, shaking his head.

Seungcheol plucks the textbook out of your hands, slipping it into your bag, “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m taking my girlfriend to Hogsmeade tomorrow.”

Jeonghan faux vomits at the word girlfriend and Joshua smacks him upside the head.

“Thanks,” you whisper under your breath, grabbing the rest of your things. Seungcheol definitely hears you because he smiles, eyes turning into half moon crescents.

When you go to grab your bag from Seungcheol, he dodges your hands. You scowl at him.

“Jeonghan, you can vomit all you want, but one of us has a date tomorrow, and it isn’t you,” says Seungcheol cheekily.

You try for your bag again, but damn Seungcheol and damn his Quidditch reflexes. He gracefully turns out of your reach.

“Come on, Princess—” your breath catches “—let’s get you to bed.” Seungcheol starts walking backwards, and has the audacity to wink at you, motioning his head to the library exit.

You clutch an inkwell tight in your hand, debating whether or not to launch it at Seungcheol’s head, when Jeonghan says, “You should go. Before Sir Head Boy here starts rattling off the negative impacts of not getting a full nights sleep.” Ironic. If there was anyone who got less sleep than you, it was Seungcheol.

“Goodnight Wallflower,” Soonyoung says behind you and you raise a hand to him without looking. You stalk past Seungcheol, but not before pushing your inkwell and quills into his chest.

Seungcheol drops them into your bag and scurries after you, trying to catch up to you in the dim corridor, “Slow down. Hey, Princess, slow down.”

You halt, whipping around to face Seungcheol, and it catches him off guard. He skids, putting his hands up as to not run into you.

“Why—” you hiss “—do you keep calling me that?”

The hallway’s deserted, but you still do your best to keep your voice down.

“What?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, “Princess?”

“Yes,” you spit out. “That.”

Seungcheol pushes his bottom lip out in a pout, cocking his head to one side, “If I’m the Prince of Hogwarts, wouldn’t that make you my Princess, Princess?”

His logic checks out, and you hated him for it. It made you want to rip all your hair out and scream. But that, would be a tad bit dramatic.

Seungcheol takes your silence as animosity and bends down to bring his face close in front of yours, intently locking his eyes with yours, “What would you rather I call you then, love?”

You want to look anywhere but at him, but his face is so damn close to yours. Defiantly, you jut your chin out, “My name, perhaps?”

He feigns thinking, straightening back up again, “Mm, no, I think Princess sounds better,” and shuffles around you to begin walking to your dormitories.

You roll your eyes and jog to catch up, walking alongside him. “Look, you don’t have to carry my things for me and walk me to my dorm every night. I’m perfectly capable of doing all these things myself.” You make one last futile attempt at grabbing your bag but Seungcheol swiftly shifts it to his other side, away from you. “I didn’t make it to my seventh year unable to do anything, you know.”

Seungcheol smiles to himself. “Never said you couldn’t, love,” he says softly.

“Stop calling me that,” you snarl. A quick look around the hallway finds it empty, “There’s no one even here, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t have to what? Be an adoring, loving boyfriend?”

“We’re not even dating!” You cry out.

“Shhp!” Seungcheol puts a finger to his lips, then points up. Following his finger, you look up at the portraits covering the tall walls all the way up until they disappear into the darkness above.

Ah, yes, the walls are always listening.

It takes everything in you to not stomp your feet in petulance, though there is still an underlying irritation in every step as you continue walking.

The two of you trudge your way up Ravenclaw tower, the spiral staircase feeling never ending tonight. At the top, Seungcheol reminds you, “As far as anyone’s concerned, we are dating. Don’t forget that.”

You open your mouth to argue but Seungcheol cuts you off, “I don’t want to hear it. You know I’m right.”

That he was. But you weren’t going to tell him that.

The bronze eagle knocker glints from the luminosity of the moonlight cascading through the high windows of the tower.

Seungcheol leans up against the wall by the door, “I don’t think you’re weak, or that you can’t help yourself. I’m doing this because, as your boyfriend, it brings me joy to do this.” Fake boyfriend, you want to correct him.

Your nose twitches and you knock the knocker a little harder than necessary.

The bronze eagle’s voice booms, “I can take decades to build but a day to destroy. What am I?”

Barely needed a moment to think, you answer, “Trust.” The door swings open and you turn to Seungcheol, “It brings you joy to do these things?”

Seungcheol grins, crossing his arms, “It does. You also get so angry, Princess. It’s cute.”

Cheeks burning, you shove him, yanking your bag away while he stumbles off the wall, stifling a laugh behind his fist.

“Sleep well, love. I’ll see you in the morning,” he calls out as you enter your common room. You slam the door without looking back, but you can still hear his giggles as the door closes shut.

Morning greets you like a chessboard to the face.

All throughout the night, you shifted in and out of consciousness. You couldn’t have had more than a couple of hours of steady sleep.

On your way to the bathroom, you tiptoe past a sleeping Mythili. She snores softly, half her body hanging off her bed, and you double back to push up her hanging limbs, tucking them in under her blanket. Mythili stirs for a second, then resumes snoring, curling an arm under her pillow.

In the bathroom, you almost can’t recognise the girl staring back at you in the mirror. Dark eye bags shade your under eyes and your skin is starting to take on an almost sickly pallor.

Last night was unkind to you, but so was the night before. As was the night before that. This was your new normal, you just had to get used to it. The sleepless nights are starting to take it’s toll though, and you’re beginning to look a little worse for wear.

You wash your face, and along with it, try to wash away any unfriendly thoughts clouding your mind.

No amount of scrubbing could wash one thought away though: what exactly was one supposed to wear on a date?

It feels childish. A Hogsmeade trip is nothing special. For years, you’ve been going on them with Soonyoung and Raveena, and never once did you put an ounce of thought into what you were going to wear.

The angel on your shoulder tells you to wear whatever you normally would. That Seungcheol wouldn’t care, this is all for show anyhow.

The devil, on the other hand, he had other thoughts. What if wearing your regular robes is unconvincing? What if it did matter to Seungcheol? What if he felt like you weren’t putting enough effort into this facade?

Soonyoung would probably have a separate collection of robes for dates alone. A selection of designer robes flicker through your mind and you shake your head to rid of the unhelpfulness.

Rummaging through your trunk, you finally decide on some dark charcoal grey robes. They’re less shabby than your navy ones, and you definitely did not want to show up in your school robes.

Mythili is still snoring when you’re done changing. Sunlight begins to stream brighter through the windows, and you pull the curtains shut around her bed before leaving.

When you arrive at the front hall, Seungcheol is nowhere to be found. You push one of the large entrance doors open, stepping out into the cold air, and into a flurry of white.

Snow.

Climbing down the snowy front steps, you reach a hand out. A snowflake lands on the tip of your finger, melting on contact. Your fingertips turn pink as the snowflakes melt one by one on your hand, a shiver running through you from the rush of cold.

“Morning, Princess,” a familiar voice whispers against your ear.

Your heart nearly stops and you whip around, cursing, “Galloping gargoyles! Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol’s bent over laughing, both arms wrapped around his waist, and eyes crinkled into two half moons. You shove him and he barely stumbles, still cackling.

“Need to get you a bloody bell around your neck,” you mutter. A gust of wind blows past, another shiver running through your back.

A scowl replaces Seungcheol’s cheery smile, “Why aren’t you wearing a jumper?” He’s got on thick dark navy robes and a striped Gryffindor scarf around his neck. “Didn’t you know it was snowing out?”

“Didn’t look out the window.” You wave an apathetic hand at him, “I’m fine.”

As you descend down the stairs, snow flurries into your face with a stronger gust of wind. Shoulders shake as another shiver vibrates through you and you sputter, brushing the snow out your face and hair.

Seungcheol harrumphs, coming to stand in front of you, one step below, bringing you two face-to-face. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he’s unwinding the scarf around his neck and wrapping it around yours.

“What are you—”

Seungcheol shushes you and your mouth clamps shut. He focuses on meticulously wrapping the scarf around your neck, fastening your robes closed over the bottom of the scarf.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’m gonna let you come with me without keeping warm.” He pulls your hood over you head, careful not to touch your face while pushing your hair away, tucking it under the hood.

“Let me?” You glower down your nose at him.

“Sorry, sorry. Forgot you’re a big girl who does everything herself with no help at all,” he says in a patronizing tone as he fixes the scarf to make sure it’s completely covering your neck with no gaps. “That’s why you came out into the freezing cold without a jumper. Or a scarf.” For a second you think you hear wrong, but you swear he mutters idiot under his breath.

You open your mouth to argue but he lifts an eyebrow, as if daring you to say something. You shut your mouth quickly, teeth grinding in frustration as you lift your chin at him in silent defiance.

There’s always an air of both confidence and righteousness that seems to float around Seungcheol. It drove you mad, always putting you on the defense, countering your hesitance with all things concerning Seungcheol. A hesitance that you couldn’t push away, no matter how hard you tried to press past it.

And above all, you hated not having the last word.

Seungcheol pulls the collar of your robes up before smoothing them out. He turns to walk down the last few steps, then begins on the path to Hogsmeade, not getting very far before realizing you’re still frozen on the stone steps. “You coming or not?” He calls out, and you shake yourself out of your reverie, hurrying down the steps to the path to catch up.

The two of you walk side by side in silence. It’s a few minutes up the hill when Seungcheol clears his throat, “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

You stop in your tracks and it’s takes Seungcheol a few steps to notice you’re not next to him. He looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You didn’t plan the date today?” You blurt out. In response, Seungcheol cocks his head to the side in puppy fashion.

“You’re the one who told me to come out with you—” you’re unable to stop the indignation from leaking into your voice, “—and you don’t even have anything planned?”

Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows again, lower lip jutting out in a pout, “You said you had errands to run, I thought that’s what we were doing?” His eyebrows shoot up and he points an accusatory finger at you, “You! You want to be taken out!” He widens his eyes and turns to point a finger at himself, “By me.”

“W-what?” You stammer. “I want no such thing, thank you very much. I—” You look anywhere but at Seungcheol and the smirk growing on his face. “I just don’t like my time wasted,” you wrap your arms around yourself. “Or liars. If you say you’re going to do something, I expect you to do it.” With that, you stomp past him, and he follows you with his eyes before jogging to catch up.

Seungcheol walks backwards, trying to catch your eyes, “Admit it, you were looking forward to our date today.” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s probably got on a smug smile, you can hear it in his voice. You plod along, the path to Hogsmeade feeling doubly longer than usual.

Seungcheol hums before turning back to walk in tandem with you, hands clasped behind his back. “Well, as your amazingly loving and adoring boyfriend, I have no set plans for today other than doing only whatever it is you would like to do, Princess.”

You’re glad for the snow and the scarf, allowing the red of your burning cheeks and ears to go unnoticed.

High street is bare this morning. There’s a gentle thrum of town locals, grabbing a coffee at the inn, picking up their post, running their weekend errands. Seems as though you and Seungcheol are the first few students to make your way up here.

“Where to first?” Seungcheol asks softly as the two of you stand in the town entrance.

Snow builds lightly on your shoulders as you think. There was no reason to push back any further on this. The date wasn’t happening, so you might as well buck up and take the opportunity to get your shopping list done.

Mentally going over the things you need, you land on your first stop. “Apothecary?” Your voice wavers with hesitation, but Seungcheol doesn’t contest.

“Lead the way.”

The Apothecary is a little shop at the end of the street. Squeezed between the post office and Gladrags, it’s a short wooden building, painted night black, with a thatched roof that seems to be caving in.

Seungcheol hesitates before following you in through the doorway, face filled with concern when the wooden door pops off its top hinge.

It’s dim inside, the tinted windows letting in the smallest ray of light. Except, upon closer look, the windows weren’t tinted at all. Instead, years of grime had built up on the glass pane, coating it the same jet black as the walls.

On the front window sill, sits a fluffy black kneazle. Its beady yellow eyes follow you as you crouch down to scratch the little monster behind the ear.

“Hiya Zeeks,” you coo. The kneazle swishes his pointed tail in response.

“Zeeks?” Seungcheol lifts a hand to tentatively pat the little guy’s head. The kneazle closes its eyes and purrs in return, stretching his neck out so Seungcheol can get under his chin.

“Short for Ezekiel. The owner keeps him around to catch the mice.” You stand up and motion to a thin, bald, and scraggly looking man at the front counter. A black eye patch covers his left eye, and when he smiles in your direction, a couple teeth are missing. “This way, the stuff I need is further in the back.”

Seungcheol grimaces as you lead him past jars of fish eyes, lizard tails, and things he couldn’t even begin to describe. There’s a fine layer of dust coating the shelves and he avoids touching them. “How often do you need new ingredients?” He eyes a jar filled with bezoars.

“Depends,” you say, grabbing two packets of dried poinsettia powder, turning them over in your hand. “I try to grab stuff when we have a Hogsmeade weekend but, I’ll order things by post if we don’t. If I’m experimenting with new potions, I need new ingredients more often.” You pick up a third packet of poinsettia powder and move on, walking down the aisle to a section with claws hanging from the ceiling. “Generally, I make big batches though, and they tend to keep for a while if you don’t open the stopper.”

Seungcheol hums, following you around the Apothecary like a puppy, watching, as you push aside a jar labelled ‘bat spleens’ to reach behind and grab one filled with a thick burnt orange coloured liquid . You turn the jar over in your hand, and Seungcheol’s able to read the label, salamander blood. He holds back a gag and follows as you eventually take your selection up to the front counter, making small talk with the owner as they ring you up.

Seungcheol is swift to grab your bag of things before you can and at this point you know better than to argue, letting him sling it over his head, hanging it across his chest.

“Where to next, Princess?” asks Seungcheol, as the two of you exit the store.

Your breath catches and you wheeze, trying to cough it off like it was nothing.

Taking a deep breath, making sure your voice doesn’t waver, you say “Scrivenshaft’s? Unless there was somewhere you wanted to go?” You bite your bottom lip, looking at Seungcheol.

His eyes flit down for just a moment, then he clears his throat, shaking his head, “No, nothing for me. Scrivenshaft’s it is.”

The street’s busier than before. With the sun further up in the sky, and the snow having decided to pause for a bit, more people have made it out of the woodwork.

“Sorry we’re just doing my boring errands today.” Students crowd the street, donning familiar scarves of maroon, blue, green, and yellow, and you two weave through them, making your way to Scrivenshaft’s.

“No, this is nice,” Seungcheol says firmly. “It’s far more interesting than what I’d normally do here in Hogsmeade.”

You side step a student, careful not to brush shoulders with them, “What is it you normally do?”

Seungcheol scrunches his nose, “Weasley’s shop? Three Broomsticks? Maybe Hog’s Head if we’re feeling extra mischievous?” He doesn’t notice you staring at him as he speaks.

The sporadic gusts of wind have made his hair go in every which direction, and he sniffles, using a hand to push his glasses up his nose, which, along with his cheeks, are rosy pink from the cold. You notice a little scar on his eyebrow, the faintest slit where his eyebrow hair never grew back in.

You’re about to ask him how he got it when a kid runs past, slamming into your shoulder on their way.

Flying sideways into Seungcheol, he immediately pulls you by the arm to his other side, out of the way, before a second kid racing past could run into you as well.

“Oi!” Seungcheol barks after them, “Watch where you’re going!” He turns back to you, and goes to put a hand on your shoulder, before curling it into a fist and awkwardly dropping it to his side.

“Are you okay?” Concern laces his words.

You lie straight through your teeth, “Yeah, I’m fine.” There’s a dull ache in your shoulder, your heart won’t stop racing, and you feel like you’re going to vomit.

Seungcheol looks unconvinced while you breathe through your nose, trying to steady your heart by counting backward from 10.

At 7, someone else bumps into your back, causing you to stumble into Seungcheol’s chest, top of your head knocking against his chin. Seungcheol curses angrily under his breath as his hand flies to your shoulder to steady you. When you look up at him, he’s got his eyebrows knitted in that signature furrow, and he asks softly, “You okay?”

You think you nod, but you’re not sure, your eyes going out of focus. What you do know is that the monster crawling through your stomach is making you feel sick and you want Seungcheol to just make it stop. Through your cloudy mind, you feel Seungcheol’s hand travel down to grasp yours. His hand is warm, gentle, and you can feel callouses on the pads of his palm.

Then, he’s leading you through the crowd, muttering to himself, “No sense of personal space.” His fingers lace with yours and he’s got a firm hold as he looks above the heads in the crowd, trying to find the best path through the crowd.

The crawling feeling still sits in the pit of your stomach. But now, it’s accompanied by another feeling. An unfamiliar one. Stomachache? No. Anxiety? Also no.

Comfort? Maybe.

You try to shake the feeling, and Seungcheol’s grip on your hand tightens, bringing you closer into his side.

The two of you make it to Scrivenshaft’s in one piece—surprising, since you’re sure Seungcheol’s laser eyes should’ve burned through someone —and Seungcheol opens the door, bell tinkling above, leading you both into warmth.

Inside, it’s as though you can breathe again. Seungcheol huffs and, as if only just now noticing he was holding your hand, quickly shakes it off.

His glasses fog up from the rise in temperature and he runs a hand through his hair, scrambling to apologize, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I know I should’ve asked. Didn’t mean to—I’m sorry. It’s just the crowd and you—who just runs like that? Without looking where they’re going?”

Seungcheol’s chest heaves up and down, he’s breathing so hard, rushing to get his words out. He wipes at his glasses with the edge of his sleeve.

You make an attempt to calm him down, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s fi—”

But Seungcheol is quick to interrupt, “I wasn’t thinking. But, there was just so many people.” His eyes are wide and erratic, you’ve never seen him like this before. “I would never, not without ask—”

“Seungcheol,” you place a hand on his arm. “Seungcheol, it’s fine. I’m okay. Thank you.”

This seems to give Seungcheol pause.

“I’m okay,” you repeat.

He swallows, choosing his next words carefully. Voice barely a whisper, he says, “You know I would never force you to—”

You squeeze his arm and he freezes, “Seungcheol, I know. It’s fine. It’s okay.”

You were not fine, and you definitely were not okay. Your heart felt as though it was going to pump straight out of your chest, there’s a buzzing in your head, and skipping breakfast? The best decision you’d made this morning with how your stomach was churning. However, none of that was because of Seungcheol.

Seungcheol. The way his eyebrows are drawn together in concern. The intent way he’s looking at you, like he wants to say something, but just doesn’t know how.

You don’t understand why he was even this upset. Not when even you weren’t that pressed about this. You knew what was wrong with you, you were used to this. What, was everyone supposed to automatically know and always move out of your way? That’s irrational. You might as well never leave your room at that point.

Out of nowhere, a burst of confidence, or insanity, courses though you, and you reach up to put a hand on his cheek. His cheeks are warm. Much warmer than your ice cold fingers.

Seungcheol puts his hand over yours, encapsulating it in his warmth, and you resist the urge to pull away.

He closes his eyes and draws in a deep breath. His eyebrows unfurl and you can feel his jaw unclench.

When he opens his eyes back up, you both drop your hands. Seungcheol looks a little sheepish now, the redness in his cheeks extending to his ears.

“Can I—” he mumbles something incoherent.

“What?”

He looks to your hand, rubbing the back of his neck, and whispers, barely audible, “Is it okay if I hold your hand?”

You don’t answer him. Not with your words at least. Instead, you silently take his hand in yours.

Again, you’d be lying if you said it felt good. It didn’t. But you wanted this. Not the feeling of the monster in your stomach trying to crawl its way up, or the dizzying way your mind clouds over. But to be able to hold Seungcheol’s hand. At least for the moment. At least, until it became unbearable.

The bell on the front door tinkles as someone walks through and Seungcheol pulls you into his chest, out of their way. A hand comes up to caress the back of your head and you look up at him.

“What was it you needed to get here?” Seungcheol’s voice is tender, and quiet enough that you’re sure only you can hear him. His face is so close that, if you were to rise up on your tiptoes, just a little bit, you could close the gap and kiss him. That is, if you wanted to. And if he did too. But neither of you do.

There’s a waver to your voice can’t stop when you answer him, “S-scrapbook material.”

He doesn’t comment on it though. “For scrap-booking?” He asks.

No, for playing Quidditch, you instantly want to bite back, but you don’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, you silently nod.

“Well then, lead the way Princess,” Seungcheol says softly, looking straight into your eyes. You nod.

Down the narrow aisles you go, hand still clasped around his. Somewhere past the bound journals, between the pens and coloured parchment, his fingers lace with yours, the warmth of his palm anchoring you past your unease.

You pick up some stamps with your free hand, turning them over to look at the rubber designs. Then, you move onto the coloured parchment where you struggle to sift through the pages. Seungcheol wordlessly grabs the stamps from your hand so you can browse through the papers better.

“So, you scrapbook. Got any other secret hobbies you want to tell me about,” Seungcheol asks. He leans against the shelf, some of the paper crinkling beneath his shoulder, lightly swinging your hands between the two of you.

“Not a secret. You never asked.” You rifle past the solid colours, making your way into the funky patterns. “And it’s not a hobby, just once a year for Christmas, as a gift to Soonyoung.”

He stops swinging your hands. “How come I don’t get a scrapbook?” He pouts.

“Because I’m already making Soonyoung one.” You pull him with you as you move on to the next aisle, not finding what you want in this one. “Besides, what would I even use? I don’t have any pictures of you outside of the ones for the paper.”

“But I’m your boyfriend,” Seungcheol whines, giving your arm a little tug. “How can you make some other guy a Christmas gift, but not me?” His cheeks puff up in annoyance.

You find a parchment set you like and try to shimmy your hand out of Seungcheol’s hold to pick it up. He doesn’t give up his iron grip though. You huff, “He’s not just some guy, Seungcheol, he’s my best friend.”

Seungcheol grumbles something you don’t fully catch, but it sounds a lot like “Yeah, but he’s not your boyfriend.”

Seungcheol is silent for the rest of your time in Scrivenshaft’s. It’s not a tense silence, but a comfortable one. He’s quiet as he dutifully carries your things to the counter. Quiet, as he holds your bag open for you to drop your purchases in, never once letting go of your other hand in the process.

Once outside, Seungcheol breaks his silence, “Where to next, Princess?”

You bite your lip, pondering. Seungcheol looks away, out into the sun. “Those were the only things I needed to do,” you say. Your errands were not extensive today.

“What about Honeydukes?” Seungcheol points down the street towards the sweet shop. “Do you need to restock your sweets?”

Your eyes follow Seungcheol’s finger morosely. You did need sugar quills, you were completely out, had been for a while now. But, you also needed to save coin, potion ingredients didn’t pay for themselves.

You shake your head, “No, I’m all set. If we go, I’ll just be tempted.” You can’t help the dejection in your voice.

Seungcheol’s where to next, princess? dauntingly echoes through your head. Where to next, indeed. Seungcheol may have said he’d go anywhere you wanted today, even seemed excited for it, but surely he wasn’t expecting to just be taken on errands?

You were boring. You’d also never had the task of taking someone on a date, not that this was one at this point.

The joke shop? No, you still hadn’t rid of the embarrassment from the last time you saw Seungcheol there. Besides, he said he goes there with his friends. You doubt he’d take a romantic partner there.

Shrieking shack? Seungcheol doesn’t strike you as the haunted house type.

Three broomsticks? You were already planning to meet Soonyoung there later this afternoon. No, you need something different.

Hogs head? If you’re being honest, that place gave you the creeps.

What you needed was some place students take each other on dates. A normal place. Somewhere preferably public, that other students would visit too. Somewhere everyone would see you, a place to incite the gossip train. A place that, if students were to see you, would immediately think ah, those two must be on a date.

It hits you. Of course. You know just the place.

The pink decor of Madam Pudifoot’s is still as vomit inducing as it was last time.

The two of you are seated at a small table in the center of the teashop. Seungcheol tries to awkwardly fit his thick legs under the tiny table, but he keeps bumping his knees into it. He looks on with caution at the walls covered in puce paint, side eyeing the rosewood pink curtains that hang ominously from the ceilings.

One of the waitstaff comes by to take your orders. “I’ll have a cup of tea please,” Seungcheol says. You try to be discreet and shake your head at him, but Seungcheol doesn’t take the hint.

When the waiter turns to you next, you pass on the tea. “I’ll take a coffee,” you say. This time, you know better.

“Any cream or sugar?”

“Both, please.” The waiter scribbles on their little notepad. “Can I also get a slice of cake, please?” You add on. Perhaps not the best thing for an empty stomach, but you desperately needed something sweet after the morning you’ve had.

“Absolutely. We’ll have that out soon.” They snap their fingers twice and a little cherub flies by, tossing golden confetti over you and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol looks like he’s about to cry as he shakes the confetti out of his hair and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

When the drinks arrive, Seungcheol takes a sip, and winces from the acrid taste. He clears his throat, “So, you, um, like coming to this place?”

“I guess you don’t know,” you say haughtily, “but this is the hip place to take your dates.” You take a sip of your own drink, and hold back the urge to spit it out. It has a bitter aftertaste, as though the coffee beans were burned.

Seungcheol quirks an eyebrow up, “Is it now?” He has an amused smile but you’re not finding anything funny.

The slice of cake you ordered is dry and lacks any sort of sweetness. Yet, you still shovel in a big bite, letting it stick to the top of your mouth as you chew, barring you from answering.

Seungcheol has all but abandoned his weak tea on the table. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s leaning back, watching as you down your bitter coffee to wash down the dry cake, hiding your gags in between. He shakes his wrist out, turning his watch to look at the time, “All done?”

Launching yourself over the table, you grab at Seungcheol’s wrist, tugging it towards you. Seungcheol’s caught off guard, swiftly putting out his other hand to brace himself against the table, trying not to faceplant into his cold tea. You turn his wrist over, so you can see the face of his watch. “We should get going, I told Soonyoung we’d meet him at the Three Broomsticks.” You drop his hand unceremoniously to the table with a thunk and get up to grab your robes and scarf off the back of the chair.

Seungcheol winces as he half falls onto the table, elbow barely missing his abandoned cup of tea. “We need to work on using your words, Princess,” he mutters, grabbing your bag from the ground and slinging it over his head

“What’s that?” You’re not looking at him, instead struggling with wrapping his scarf back around your neck, getting your hair stuck in between the layers.

Seungcheol comes around the table, planting himself in front of you. He swats your hands away and they fall, limp, to your side, as he unwraps the scarf and begins re-wrapping it properly.

“Next time, try Hey Seungcheol, what time is it?” He’s careful to make sure your hair doesn’t get caught, wrapping the scarf snug enough so you stay warm, but not so tight its suffocating. “Or maybe, Seungcheol, can I please take a look at your watch?” He pulls your robes closed over the end of the scarf, clasping the buckle, and smoothing his hands out over your shoulders. “Does that sound good to you?“

You swallow at nothing and bury your nose into his scarf, nodding shyly. Hints of grass and bergamot flood your senses, and as the two of you head outside into the cold, you can’t tell if your ears burn pink from the temperature, or from Seungcheol.

A flurry of snow has started up again, covering everything outside with a fresh new coat of white. It blows into your face with every gust of wind, and by the time you and Seungcheol make it to Three Broomsticks, you’re shivering to your bones.

“You head on inside, find Soonyoung,” Seungcheol says, “I need to go do something first.”

“Y-y-ou want me t-to come with you?” Your teeth chattering with every word.

“Don’t worry about me,” He opens the door to the pub and pushes you through. “Go on, warm up, I’ll be quick. Promise.” And with that, he shuts the door behind you.

The warmth of the pub immediately melts you, from your head down to your toes, and you go to find Soonyoung. He seated in the back, by the roaring fire, at a circle table with Raveena.

“Madam Wallflower!” booms Soonyoung as you approach them. “Nice of you to join us,” he says, tipping an invisible hat at you.

“As always, Sir Hoshi.” You tip your own nonexistent cap back while pulling out a chair across from them.

Soonyoung looks behind you, “Where’s the boyfriend?”

“Said he had something to do,” you shrug, “He’ll be here soon. What’re you two up to then?”

Raveena’s got a parchment on the table with scribbles of boxes all over. “The layout for the next issue.” She glares at Soonyoung, “Hoshi here thinks the front page should be Professor Hildred’s sacking.” Turning back to you, she says, “Please tell him that no one wants to hear about that old cod, and that it’s a page three at best.”

“He’d been stealing multiple paintings at the school undetected for years,Pudding,” Soonyoung throws out. “This is like, the story of the year.”

“Oh shut up.” Raveena points to you with her quill, “Wallflower and Golden Boy are closer to being story of the year than some old guy trying to make a quick coin. Speaking of—” Raveena flourishes her quill at you, “we’d still love to interview you two if you’ll let us.”

You lean over and snatch the quill out of Raveena’s hand, “In your dreams, Pudding.” You’d rather die than let yourself be interviewed for the Whistler, for your relationship of all things. “And put that away you two, before someone sees it. I’m going to go get something to drink, you two want anything?“

Raveena lets out an offended scoff before grabbing her quill back and shoving it, and the parchment, into her bag.

“Can you get me a butterbeer, Wallflower?“ Soonyoung rummages in his pocket and hands you a few sickles.

You salute, “Sure thing Boss.“

The hot chocolate you get warms you right up. Along with the hot, ever burning fireplace, you’re toasty and cozy, listening on as Raveena and Soonyoung chatter (and squabble) amongst themselves. One hot chocolate turns into two, then into three, till you’re indulging on your fourth.

“Boo,” someone whispers by your ear and you jump in your seat, nearly dropping your mug in your lap.

Seungcheol’s standing behind you, eyes crinkled into half moons, biting down a smile. He seems to be holding something behind his back.

“What the hell, Seungcheol,” you grumble, wiping your hands of the little bit of hot chocolate that had spilled.

“Aw, don’t be upset, Princess.” He grins, taking a seat next to you, “Look, I come bearing a gift.”

You perk up at the word gift, wiping at your lips with your sleeve, “A gift? For me?”

He brings a box out from behind his back, the gleam of silver instantly recognisable.

You dive for the box, “Sugar quills!” And Seungcheol lets it go with ease. He looks on endearingly as you examine it with awe, turning it over in your hands. “How did you kn—”

Seungcheol grabs the edge of your chair, pulling it close next to his, and you yelp, hugging the box tight against your chest. His face is mere centimeters from yours, but he’s not looking at you, he’s looking behind you. You turn to see Wonwoo walking up with two butterbeers in hand. He sets one down in front of Seungcheol and takes a seat on your other side. When you turn back around, Seungcheol’s face is still dangerously close to yours.

“Do you like it, Princess?“ Seungcheol whispers, draping an arm over the back of your chair.

You avoid his eyes, wrapping your arms tighter around the box, “How did you know I was out?” You had been out for weeks.

“You said so,” he doesn’t take his eyes away from yours, lips curling into a sweet smile, “last time.”

“Last time?”

Seungcheol cocks his head, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head. “When we were at Honeydukes. You said you needed sugar quills.”

He remembered that? “Thank you,” you breathe out and Seungcheol grins again, satisfied.

“Hey Wallflower, can I have one?” Soonyoung asks from across the table.

You frown and fiercely shake your head, “No, it’s for me,” turning away from him with the box. Raveena lets out a cackle as Soonyoung looks affronted.

“Here, I’ll put it away for you,” Seungcheol gently pries the box out of your tightly wrapped arms, sticking it inside your bag. He settles back into his seat, arm not leaving the back of your chair.

Your heart ticks up a little, slowly rising in bpm, and you pick up your mug, downing the warm hot chocolate in one chug, hoping to have it calm you down.

Seungcheol leans over and whispers, “Want another?” Any attempt at lowering your heartrate is quashed.

Your stare down at your empty mug, chewing your bottom lip. It’s not like its coffee, surely another couldn’t hurt. You nod shyly at Seungcheol and he breaks into the widest smile. Then he does the strangest thing. He softly bumps his head into yours, like a baby goat headbutting, before getting up.

You sink into your seat, letting half your face bury into your scarf. Embarrassment warms your cheeks, but one look around the table has you realising that not a single person is paying you two any attention.

Seungcheol comes back with a piping hot mug of hot chocolate, setting it down in front of you with a soft here you go, love, and taking a seat, arm going right back up to drape across the back of your chair.

The mug radiates warmth against your palms as you hold it between your hands. Seungcheol must’ve cozied up to Madam Rosemerta because there’s a massive dollop of whipped cream on top, more than you’ve ever received. You blow a steady puff of air, the whipped cream fluttering, and take a sip. The hot liquid scalds your tongue and you hiss at the burn, setting the mug down with a clatter.

Seungcheol brings his hand up against the back of your head, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand, flustered. “It was just really hot.”

“Careful,” says Seungcheol, stroking at your hair with his thumb before resting his arm back on your chair. You simply nod, picking your mug back up to blow on it once more, hoping to cool it down enough to take another sip.

As the afternoon goes on, you find yourself sinking further and further into the warm scarf wrapped around your neck, and into Seungcheol’s side. You’re not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel warmth radiate off him. He also keeps buying you hot chocolates, filling you up with the warm liquid, making you feel cozy, and sleepy.

When you yawn for the tenth time in the span of minutes, Seungcheol decides to call it.

“I think we’re gonna head back to the castle,” he says, standing up and slinging your bag over his head, “It’s been a long day for us.”

He sticks a hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you up and out of your chair. You bid everyone your goodbyes, stifling another yawn behind your hand.

“Alright, come on sleepy head, lets get you to bed,” Seungcheol leads you outside, and you let him pull you along the path back to the castle.

He walks you up to your tower and, again, you don’t push back this time. You’re too content and full of hot chocolate to argue.

At the door of the Ravenclaw dorm, you start to take off Seungcheol’s scarf, but he stops you.

“Keep it,” he says, loosely winding it back around your neck.

You roll your eyes, “Seungcheol, I have scarves.”

“I don’t doubt you do. But keep it anyways. Wear it to my game next week.” He pauses for a moment. “You are coming right?”

Ah yes, the highly anticipated, for reasons unknown to you, Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match.

You push out your lower lip in a pout, “Do I have to go?” A hint of a whine slips through.

“Yes?” Seungcheol acts like you’ve asked him if can pumpkin’s can feel pain.

You refuse to let the stupid sport ruin your hot chocolate induced high, so you muster out a curt, “Fine. I’ll be there, I guess.”

“Okay, sound at least a little excited. I’m not forcing you to your execution,” says Seungcheol as he slips your bag over your head.

“Might as well be,” you mutter under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you straighten up, pulling on your bag strap. “Game. Next week. Wear the scarf. I’ll be there.” You throw up two unenthusiastic thumbs up as your eyes flutter shut for a second from drowsiness.

Seungcheol ruffles your hair, smiling and eye crinkling smile when you weakly swat him away with a glare. He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, “Alright, head in, get some rest.”

You hit the knocker and answer the riddle, opening up the door.

“And Princess?”

You turn to look at him, fighting back another yawn.

“I had a lot of fun today,” he says, adding softly, “Best date ever.”

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, and mumble a quiet thanks, before hurrying through the door, shutting it behind you.

After the Hogsmeade trip, a unspoken barrier seems to have broken between you and Seungcheol.

Hands held fleetingly in the hallway.

The briefest of touches to the middle of your back when walking to class.

A head falling on your shoulder at lunch because Seungcheol just can’t stop laughing.

A leg pressed oh so lightly against yours under the library table.

You welcomed it, really. Every time, with every touch, it got harder and harder for the monster to crawl up out of your gut. Always with Seungcheol though. Only with Seungcheol.

There are moments, sometimes, when he’s not there, where you find yourself seeking his touch. Almost like you crave it. Missing the warmth with which his hands encapsulate yours, grounding you in way no one else ever has.

It feels absurd. Wrong, almost. But in the days leading up to the Quidditch game, you barely see Seungcheol outside of class, save for a few meals and some brief study sessions, and you hated it. Seungcheol had somehow become a constant in your daily routine, and when he’s not there you feel as though there’s an absence, a void that needed to be filled.

It was driving you mad.

Disappointment welcomes you with open arms the morning of the game. Soonyoung informs you that Seungcheol has already gone down to the pitch to prepare for today’s game. Raveena and Chan exchange a look when your face falls.

You’re wearing Seungcheol’s scarf, just like he told you to, and he’s not even here for you to show him.

“Supporting your boyfriend, eh?” Soonyoung says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up Hoshi,” you mutter, grabbing a piece of toast and spreading jam on it like it had personally offended you and you were seeking revenge against gluten. Messily shovelling it into your mouth in one go, you grab Soonyoung’s copy of today’s Daily Prophet. The crossword brings you comfort and solace, and as you solve through the clues, you feel your annoyance begin to ebb away.

Raveena waves a bottle of syrup at Chan, “Why’ve you got a camera Dino?”