🍹 ( a short fanfic/headcanon of our muses )

Declan is the only person who has ever asked Calla what she’s running from. It wasn’t a wise question, but they were both fifth years and had exams in a few days and nothing they did could be called wise. He caught her at the edge of the quidditch pitch, carrying his own broom, perhaps to do what she was doing and lose himself in something that required so little thinking, and she had run a few kilometres already and could hardly breathe. ‘Is there something scary out there?’ Declan had asked as she ran past, and her pace slowed and her head whipped around to look at him when he said it, slowing more than she meant to. She was acutely aware she was smiling wide, on the verge of a laugh that would startle both of them and echo around the pitch with its high stands, and perhaps Declan thought she was someone else and that was why he had asked if she was running from the scary monsters in the woods and below the water. He nodded at her back, watching her legs with a curiosity that was not hungry, interest that was not depraved. She was fast. He knew. Which makes Declan also the only person to have seen Calla happy at Hogwarts, away from the pretty purebloods who would call a smiling darling baby doll like her ‘wife’ if they could, away from Evadne slipping through her fingers and away from her father’s demands and the future’s demands and tied to nothing but the wind.