#buttery writes

…but yeah in sillier terms, I think it would also be fun to deliberately bother his friends and watch them get sick of the both of you (lovingly), too :)

Chilchuck who would pitch a fit about it at first before eventually deciding it was a lost cause. Marcille who would start off trying her best to be patient with you before giving you both an earful anyway; she can barely handle one Laios let alone two. Falin — assuming she hasn’t already joined arms in whatever you two were up to —would at the very least support enthusiastically. Senshi would be mostly indifferent to your dynamic as he has other things to worry about. Izutsumi was sick of it since day 1 (fourth adoptive Tims daughter)

Chilchuck, mildly disconcerted, probably

“You sure you don’t want to… I dunno, branch out or somethin’…?”

Marcille, her expression nothing short of horror and what looks to be creeping despair

“…Wait. Don’t tell me- you, too!?”

Just for fun now because it got me thinking: my own personal favorite trope is a good ol’ modern au! I love thinking about how these fantastical characters would fit into our modern day world, what their majors would be, occupations would be, sense of style, etc.

Combining our ideas together, I can toootally see Laios and reader being huge D&D nerds hehe. Keeping it ambiguous here but if your relationship is romantic? He’s definitely using some cheesy cornball pickup lines on you. It’s always, ALWAYS said in an overly exaggerated tone with a stupid, cheesing grin like it’s actually a good one

“It’s always a critical hit when you roll for charm on me~”

I love a guy who’s a little dumb <3

It was a short walk from the train station to Spirits & Such. Mornings during the weekends weren’t usually too busy in Seasoning City. You and Serizawa commuted to work together that morning like you would any other day. It was how you grew so close and eventually formed the early phases of your relationship in the first place.

When it was your stop, you and Serizawa left with clasped hands. One of your latest intimate gestures… You quickly learned that Serizawa was a very affectionate person. It would take a bit of patience and reassurance at first, but he loved being physically close to you. Even if the hand-holding still made you blush like kids.

It always flustered you knowing Serizawa’s hands are fuzzy and much larger than yours in size. His soft palms feel therapeutically warm against your frigid fingers. He silently rubbed his thumb in small circles on the back of your hand in hopes of transferring some warmth to you. It was a small wordless gesture that you appreciated.

“Did you get home safely last night?” Serizawa asked, matching your pace despite his long legs on the wintery sidewalks. Recently, he started initiating the conversations first. He was quick at adjusting to your relationship. It was endearing.

“Ah, yeah! Thank you but you didn’t have to stay with me on the train… I’m sure you’re tired from classes,” you said remorsefully, noting the dark blotches under his eyes. Serizawa only offered a small smile and shook his head.

“It’s okay… I wanted to spend more time with you,” he admitted softly and squeezed your hand. Whether or not he meant to say those words so casually, your warm cheeks tingled and your heart fluttered in your chest. You lowered your head to hide your wobbly smile. 

Christmas was still weeks away. But once the clock struck the first of December, Reigen was enthusiastically raiding the office early the next day wrapped in green tinsel with dusty brown boxes in his arms, red and gold glimmers shining through its worn lid. Evil and seasonal spirits are a must at Spirits & Such.

He wanted to have the office fully-decorated and bedazzled over the weekend to really wow the clients on Monday. Friday night, he rang up the S&S company for decoration committee help. Not because he couldn’t handle it himself but… Well, the holidays are no fun without the family.

You reached the office building and went inside, sighing at the warmer interior that welcomed you. The two of you exchanged simple small talk, talking about school, the snow lately, weekend plans. But as you got closer to the second floor, you could hear the recognizably clear drawl of your boss shouting through the walls.

“Mob! Bring it a little to the left!”

You and Serizawa stopped by the doorway, suddenly dropping whatever conversation you were having at the sight of a pink floating Christmas tree bumping the back corner of the office, scraping the entire wall. Their youngest employee with the bowl cut, Mob, stood near the entrance of the room in his blue turtleneck, using two hands as he relocated the bare tree with his powers. His eyes flicked between the tree and his mentor with concern.

“Shishou… I think this tree is too big.” A growing wooden crackle and snap attested to his hunch. The broken top of the giant tree hung sadly, quivering as the kid esper attempted to fit it into the gray corner.

“Ah, that’s just because my powers were so crazy strong the whole thing over grew when I touched it!! If someone else were bringing it up here, it would have stayed small!” Reigen barked dramatically, crossing his arms. Rubbing the bottom half of his face, he scanned the dangling snapped half of the winter tree wearily, trying to find a solution.

“Can you cut it in half with your powers?”

Mob threw his master a pointed look with hooded eyes and a flat frown that suggested: No, Reigen. He could not, in fact, cut the tree in half with his ESP.

Serizawa announced both your presences by clearing his throat next to you. Your coworkers all turned their heads and greeted you.

“Good morning, Serizawa-san, L/n-san,” Mob smiled over his shoulder, his attitude immediately changing when he saw you. Reigen switched right into boss mode, even without his coat on. He fixed his tie to his neck and waved the two of you over.

“Oh, perfect! Glad you’re here! We’ve just started decorating!”

“... Is that so?” You remarked, both you and Serizawa’s eyes lingering on Shigeo who was still trying to use his powers to cram whatever was left of the withering tree under their tiny roof. Your resident evil spirit, Dimple, flew into view, rolling his eyes.

“He’s trying so hard to make this work because he got this tree for free off the side of the road.” The blonde swatted the spirit away with an obnoxious fake cough.

“Hey! They were gonna dump the thing anyway! What a waste — I mean, look at the size of that thing!” Reigen whispered in a hushed tone.

“Did you look at the size of that thing before bringing it inside?” The green ghost retorted. Right on cue, a loud scraping noise tore through the room. Everyone turned to the tree, the jagged wood of the broken trunk top pierced through the ceiling to the upper floor. Various white dust particles and tile pieces fluttered from above their heads, ceiling lights flickering faintly. But most importantly, the tree stayed.

The middle schooler covered his mouth as he coughed, turning to the adults before giving a proud thumbs up. Reigen coughed quietly into his elbow, his eyebrows raised as he blinked in surprise, “...Well, I guess that works, too.”

…

Reigen divided the room in half. Mob and Dimple were on tree-decorating duty, Reigen would focus on his desk-area, and you and Serizawa would fancy up the rest of the office. Your boss would often jump sides bickering, getting distracted by the little things he found in his old Christmas decorations.

“Oh, these are nice!” he cheered, holding two jingling reindeer antler head pieces in his hands. “Mob!” He dashed over and subjected the boy to his accessorizing. But not before joining in with his own matching set of antlers.

“Haha! We look great! Ooh, I should get a picture. Hey- Stop that, you’re gonna get motion sick.” You laughed, watching Mob shake his head quickly to jingle the colorful bells on his headpiece.

You worked on untangling a roll of red tinsel for the walls, raising a quisitive brow at your boss. “What, you think this’ll bring in more business?” you joked. Reigen pointed at you and snapped excitedly.

“Yes, exactly! C’mon, who doesn’t love the holiday spirit? Here — hold these,” he explained as he handed two plastic candy cane props to Mob, sparing another two for himself. Where did he even get those?

“Well… not everyone celebrates Christmas, you know.”

“Pssh, I mean — Okay, sure, fine but- Look!” The blonde pawed at his deshi’s faux antlers, ringing the jingle bells and pointed at them.

“Jingle bells! They’re fun!”

“What are you, a cat?” Dimple commented while the man posed Mob for the photo like an action figure. You heard Serizawa’s warm bubbly laugh behind you as he passed by, carrying a box of little paper decorations for the entrance. You made eye contact, beaming at each other. Your eyes fell lower to the soft green collared sweater he was wearing.

“You look cute like that, Seri.” The words just slipped out. Your boyfriend made a tiny yelp and froze completely, staring at you wide-eyed. His entire face got hotter.

“S-Sorry?” You pursed your lips and tried not to make it obvious how hard you were staring at him.

“The sweater. I think you look nice in it,” you said quietly, holding back on your praise. Serizawa stood there opening and closing his mouth a little before he cleared his throat and awkwardly pulled his collar from his neck.

“O-Oh! Ahem! I-I see…! Yes, it’s new. My mom got it for me,” he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck as he explained. “...Thank you. I like it too.” You bit your lip. God, he was so cute without even trying.

You covered your mouth and turned your head, doing any random gesture to shake the embarrassed tingles out of your cheeks. “Are… you starting on the doorway now?” You hinted. Serizawa’s brows jumped and he looked between the doorframe and you.

“Um, y-yes! Yes, I am. I… Would you like to help?” You smiled and nodded, getting up to join his side. The two of you dug through Reigen’s old cardboard boxes, finding paper snowflakes, icicle cut-outs, reindeer, and candy cane decorations to stick on the walls.

Serizawa’s height was put to good use between the two of you. You handed him the tinsels and strings, leaving it to him to pin to the corners of the ceiling or wrap around the doorframe. All the while you stood beside him and appreciated the view.

“L/n?” You blinked back into the present.

“Yes?”

“Are there any white Christmas lights in those boxes? It might look nice for the door, don’t you think?” Serizawa wondered, leaning back and taking in the look of the entryway so far. You had to give it to him, he had quite an eye for these kinds of details.

“Let me see…” you checked each box, rustling loose leaves around, broken christmas lights, crumpled decorations… And then your eyes fell on something familiar.

“Oh!” Serizawa turned to see what you were exclaiming about. He startled at first, not expecting you to be standing right next to him. You pointed above your head. Puzzled, he followed with his eyes and they widened at the green and white bundle in your hands. He looked back at the plotting look in your eyes.

“Ahh, what are the chances? Looks like we have to kiss now. It’s tradition, you know?” The taller man blinked a few times before breaking into a blush, scratching the side of his face shyly.

“Isn’t it supposed to be when we’re standing under it?” You stiffened and scrunched your face quickly, searching for an excuse.

“Mmm, well yes! But you see, I’m having a little trouble getting this over your head. You’re too tall for your own good.” Serizawa only stood over you, tilting his head blankly like a puppy as he looked down at you.

You squirmed uncomfortably in this position, especially since it seemed like he was expecting you to make the first move. Maybe it wasn’t the right moment. Dumb joke.

You waved the mistletoe in your hand as you spoke, “Bahahaaah, kidding! Just- Just joking! I mean- Mistletoe under the entryway would… probably be a bad idea. Anyway. Um. Ahem! Sorry, let me find those lights.”

You moved to turn away from your boyfriend out of utter humiliation but felt the ground disappear from under your feet. Your eyes widened and you noticed the thin layer of deep purple energy coating your arms and legs. The ceiling felt a little closer than before.

“U-Um, Serizawa??” You chuckled nervously, hovering idly over him. He cupped his big warm hands around your face, pulling you a little closer to him.

“What, um…?” You swallowed shakily, your eyes unable to choose one place on his face to focus on… He was so close. You could see every wonderful detail in clarity. Had you never noticed the faint mole above his eyebrow? Or how long his lashes were? And the way his hair was starting to curl in again now that it was a little longer?

“…Does this help?” He asked you. You blinked. Your boyfriend smiled and pointed at the plant in your hand. You gasped and fumbled on your words excitedly, nearly dropping the mistletoe out of surprise.

“Oh! Oh, uh- y-yeah, sure! Um, yes, it’s… definitely higher now,” you stammered, shaking the plant in your hand. You looked back at him, finding a rosy smile on his face. Oh. No, wait that’s really cute. Your confidence came back.

“N-No choice! You have to kiss me now.” That familiar, deep, warm laugh of his met your ears again. He wrinkled his eyes, gaze lowering to your unkissed lips. He placed a warm thumb against the bottom one, parting it carefully.

“I guess I do,” Serizawa whispered closely. He leaned in gently and fit his plush lips between yours. His soft hands traveled to your shoulders, easing you back to earth. The weight slowly returned to your body and you sighed into the kiss you so wanted. His fingers danced behind your neck, other hand pressing you close against him. You tilted your head in an angle that allowed you to deepen the kiss more easily. Serizawa smiled against your lips, pulling you closer as he breathed in deeply. You ran your fingers through his curls and he caressed your cheek, kissing you one last time.

He pulled away first to your disappointment, resting his forehead against yours and looking down at you, catching his breath.

“This is new,” he hummed, pushing your hair from your eyes with two fingers. The soft pads brushing across your skin, making you shiver. “It’s cute when you’re the one embarrassed.” You gasped in surprise, your cheeks darkening upon seeing the teasing glint that appeared in his brown eyes.

This was new, indeed.

“Did I… do that right?” He asked, a hint of fear in the way his voice cracked. You couldn’t help but sigh, and stroke the curve of his cheek.

“You were just perfect, Seri,” Your boyfriend smiled but still looked worries. You leaned back and pretended to ponder.

“But you know… I think that traditionally, you actually need to kiss the other person twice under the mistletoe,” you said flatly, giving him a serious look. Serizawa snorted at this, losing composure and laughing into your shoulder. Your poker face threatened to crack as you wrapped your arms tighter around him. You smiled, watching any lingering traces of doubt slip away.

“AAAHHHHH! Serizawa-san!!” You quickly broke apart from each other and snapped your heads around, looking for the trouble. It didn’t take too long to notice. The two of you froze, eyes wide and jaws dropped. The office walls around you cracked and groaned as the Christmas tree slowly expanded outward, all of its leaves basked in a deep, glittery, purple haze. 

“N-Not good!” Serizawa cried, running towards the tree, attempting to push everything back into place. Handfuls of mistletoe erupted from the cracks in the wall and base of the tree, crawling across the expanse of the walls and floor. Mob frantically concentrated his powers on the tree, willing it to stop growing. But if anything, the addition of ESP only quickened the rate of the tree. His hand trembled violently as he lowered it, swallowing harshly. A single bead of sweat dripped down his face.

“I...I can’t stop it…!” Reigen whipped his head to the boy then back at the massive tree with disbelief.

“YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!” The ornaments fell off their hooks and exploded, more ceiling tiles crumbling down to the floor. The sprinkler system triggered and soaked the office, pipes and internal structures bursting at the seams.

You yelped when your body jerked forward and collided into his, Sherlock’s arms instantly trapping you in place. You were flush against his chest, not saving much personal space for yourself. Your faces were literal inches away. Your eyes flickered to his lips then back to his piercing blue eyes.

You felt your cheeks burn as you realized he wasn’t breaking eye contact. He wasn't loosening his firm grip around your waist and you found it difficult to look anywhere away from Sherlock. Your head lowered to hide your flustered expression. You discovered that you could feel his heartbeat… past his surprisingly toned chest… 

A gentle hand lifted your chin up. You moved your eyes up and your breath hitched. Sherlock seemed even closer to you than before. You could feel his breath fanning over your skin.

Sherlock hummed lowly, his hand subconsciously gracing itself down your arm. “You're very on edge.”

You shivered slightly at his choice of words. “And you've been acting very strange...” You mumbled under your breath. Sherlock quirked a brow and leaned even closer to you. Your eyes widened and you quickly lowered your head to avoid any sudden contact...

You softly clenched the fabric of his suit. Your heart spiked up once more and you felt the embarrassment rushing to your head. Eventually, you released the breath you were holding in and your eyes jumped away from him. “But yes… I haven't practiced as much on my own. I'm afraid I won't be any good,” you chuckled bashfully.

Sherlock smirked and, thankfully, backed away. You quietly released a giant pocket of breath lodged in your throat. The detective offered an upturned palm in your direction, other hand formally tucked behind his back. 

“Let’s dance, anyway.” Your face heated up and you bit your lip, hesitantly looking between his hand and his patient expression. Your finger trembled as you placed them in his hand. 

“... Just as we practiced?” Sherlock returned a reassuring smile.

“Just as we practiced.” You swallowed your anxiety and allowed him to lead you to the center of the floor. Clasped hands raised high, steady steps in unison.

You took your positions just as you had rehearsed at Baker Street multiple times in the past. Sherlock wrapped one arm tightly around your waist, the other grasping your hand. You followed in suit, hand snaking around the nape of his neck awkwardly.

The music smoothly transitioned into a familiar tune. You gasped softly in recognition. A steady violin note pierced your anxiety.

“This is…” You looked back up to Sherlock only to find a sly smirk on his face. This was his own song he had composed for this very moment. The song that you had replayed and danced to so many times before in a musky flat.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his cheesiness. “Oh, you just can’t help yourself can you, Sherlock?” He chuckled deep in his throat, pulling you closer to his form.

“Never… Shall we?” You nodded, feeling more confident in yourself now. What followed after felt as natural as breathing. It was a blur for you, really.

Sherlock took a step back first and then you fell right into motion. You fought the temptation to check your feet, praying that you wouldn’t misstep and stomp on his foot. Sherlock cleared his throat gently, calling your attention back to him.

You blushed, smiling back at him. Right. Focus only on me. Your arms extended and the next thing you knew, you were twirling your partner. Sherlock, flashy as he was, coattails and all flying behind him as he flourished under the light. He was a sight to behold.

He gracefully leaped his way back to your arms and then it was your turn. The adrenaline bubbled within you as he spun you, out and then back into his form. Being so close to Sherlock was like a dream. And to dance with him… it was an art.

How much time had passed, you weren’t keeping track. Your eyes honed into your dance partner’s, drinking in those radiant blues that shifted with the light. His careful touch when he balanced you and guided you. It was a moment for the two of you and you were drunk with it.

By the time you had tuned back into the reality, he was dipping you and your noses bumped. The two of you started panting after that elaborate dance. You were catching up with the rest of you, realizing just how much you put into that performance. The guests and hosts applauded for you.

Sherlock pulled you back up and his hand remained around your waist, holding you against him as you bowed together. He looked down at you, a proud smile beaming on his face. You shined back, chuckling a little at the exhilaration of it all.

“It seems I've taught you well,” Sherlock complimented as he led the two of you away from the dance floor. A soulful song took its place in the silence and the guests flooded the center again.

You looked away shyly, smiling to yourself. “I had a good teacher..”

“Yes, of course…” Sherlock was staring at your face and you could feel the burning of it. Your heart fought wildly inside of you. You were still holding hands and you looked down with embarrassment. You saw that his shirt was untucked and his curls had fallen out of place.

You clicked your tongue and pulled him aside to the back of the room. You needed something to busy yourself with before your emotions took over.

“Hold on, let's fix this,” you led him by the hand past groups of people. Some offered quick compliments for the dance and Sherlock’s composition. The two of you brushed them off with simple “thank you”s but you were focused on something else. Getting some fresh air.

You made your way to the balcony door and invited Sherlock to follow. It was magical how different the atmosphere felt out here. It was so much quieter. The gentle breeze of a summer’s night grazing past your cheeks.

“This’ll have to do,” you said, mostly to yourself. You led Sherlock to a more discreet part of the walls outside for more privacy. It was generously lit with the moonlight.

You reached up to tuck his hair behind his ears, making sure not to look him directly in the eyes. You felt his stare burn into your skin but refused to reciprocate. You wouldn’t be able to control yourself if you did.

You got tired of his suspicious behavior and asked, “Why are you looking at me like that? It's odd.” Sherlock’s eyes darted downwards quickly when you looked up. He flushed and cleared his throat awkwardly. An unconscious tapping motion with his fingers busied him.

You smiled in contentment as you put a final hair back in its place then proceeded to carefully tuck his dress shirt back in.

“Sorry,” you muttered, cheeks flaring up at what you were doing. Maybe you should have just left it alone. Or just asked him to do it himself.

“ ‘S fine,” Sherlock mumbled back. He never took his eyes off of you. You focused on his tie now, tugging at the fabric and tightening it. The silence wasn’t comfortable and his gaze wasn’t making it any better.

He grabbed your hands away from his tie and held them in his. You gasped softly and looked up at him. “Sherlock..?”

“...You’ve been distracted lately,” he comments. You frown, “John’s wedding was coming up. Of course, I've been distracted.” He shook his head. A light pink sheen washed over his face.

“It's something else. Something that's been bothering you for much longer,” he brought his hand up to your neck and cradled your face. You shivered and stepped back. He slowly pulled you against his frame and forced you to look him in the eyes.

They were such beautiful shades of blue. You could stare as long as he wanted. He wet his lip nervously and lowered his face close to yours. Your lips were just inches away from each other. You held your breath and closed your eyes. Were you prepared for this?

Instead of what you expected, Sherlock moved his lips to your ear and whispered.

 “Sentiment..?”

You realized that he was feeling the pulse in your neck. He had looked in your eyes to study your pupils and was watching the rhythm of your breathing.

You instantly backed away and crossed your arms defensively. You felt exposed. “What was that for..?” Your voice wavered as you looked at him.

Sherlock’s curls bounced in the moonlight and bright colors of the dance floor. He tilted his head to the side and offered you a small smile.

“I’ve suspected it for a while now. Though, I wasn't completely sure. I just... never expected you to feel such emotions.” You frowned at him.

“I’m allowed to have feelings... I think. I… I feel for you, Sherlock.”

“And why me?” He asked you.

You shrugged and looked to the side. “Why not? You're… brilliant. Generous, kind, respecting - human. The honor of being able to witness your change in real time... to see you mature? These past few years have been a gift for me. I feel a certain way only for you. I think I always have. It's just that I'm finally understanding what it is…”

You picked at the skin between your fingers. A shaky breath left your lips. You inhaled deeply and looked him right in the eyes.

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes… I love you.” Years of frustration and heartache, but you finally let it out.

Sherlock was silent. His own heart skipped in his chest at those words but he didn't know why. A smile fought to spread on his face but he didn't let it. Because he was scared.

Uneasy with his silence, you returned to fidgeting with your fingers. Your panic and fear rose again and threatened to consume you.

“I- I love you! I love you, love you, Sherlock. I… I love you and I don't know what I'm going to do with myself now that I've said it… I love you.”

He was stunned. Sherlock didn't know whether to respond or to go and hold you against himself. He wanted to stop being harassed by emotions. But he liked the rush it gave him every time. He loved it. But it scared him.

Sherlock was at a loss for words. He wanted to be close to you. To understand you. And yet, he couldn't. Because he was scared.

“Say something, damn it. Please.” you chuckled weakly. Your feet twisted together, forming light wrinkles in your fancy clothes. You needed something to do. The silence was torture.

“I…” your head rose gently at the sound of his voice. Sherlock’s fists curled up tightly. He was squeezing the words out.

Sherlock’s mouth parted again. His brows furrowed angrily, unable to understand why it was so hard to speak. But nothing came out except a heavy sigh.

“... I can't.” The words fell like a silent wisp in the gentle night’s breeze. You stood in your spot. Your lips parted and your brows knitted together.

“What-”

“I can't!!” Sherlock raised his voice. You jumped slightly. His eyes were glued to his fists. You inched forward, wanting to see his hidden face.

“... What do you mean?”

Sherlock finally lifted his head. “I don't feel things, Y/n.”

After a few beats passed, you smiled softly at him. “You can feel, Sherlock. You are human.”

“No. I can’t... ‘love’ you.”

“... But do you?” Sherlock took a sharp breath. He thought about it. Up until now, his feelings had been based on his lifestyle. Emotions were a sensitive topic for the detective. He never enjoyed focusing on them.

Sherlock lifted his eyes towards yours. “I’ve always believed love to be a chemical defect found in the losing side. But… I don’t think I even understand what it is. I don’t like not knowing.”

A soft chuckle came from your lips. “It’s okay not to know sometimes, Sherlock-”

“It’s not okay for me!!” His voice startled you again. His frustration took over. “My knowledge is all I have. Without it, I am nothing. I need to know things.”

The silence between the two of you quickly grew tense. Sherlock huffed and looked back at you. “You’re confused.”

Your head perked instantly. “No, I’m not-”

“Your feelings are a mistake, Y/n. There’s been some kind of- some error of some sort.”

“Stop saying things like that. Sherlock, I love you and I’m sure of it now-”

“Human emotion is something that you have no control over!”

Your eyes began to burn. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t accept them! My emotions are part of me! I want to love you-”

“WELL, YOU SHOULDN’T! There’s a reason why I avoid human emotions: You’ll only end up hurting yourself! Why can’t you possibly understand that?!” Sherlock shouted at you. Your brows creased together and you screamed back:

“And yet I DO! Even if I don’t want to, it’s always YOU, Sherlock! I always come back to you!! So why can’t you just accept that-”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE FOOLISH, Y/N! YOU CAN’T LOVE A SOCIOPATH!!” That ended their argument. The silence came crashing down like a blanket of regret.

For once, they became aware of their surroundings. Still alone outside with the moonlight bleeding onto them. The heavy thumping of music seeping from inside. And the bare beauty of nature.

Your hands were gripped tightly on his suit, tugging him closer to yourself. Sherlock’s were clenched on your shoulders, serving the same purpose. Your bodies were pressed together again. Both your faces red from yelling. But it was a sad silence and you didn't look at one another.

You were the first to let go and rip apart from him. Sherlock tried pulling you back to him, but you stepped away.

A few minutes of silence passed between both of you. Finally, you sucked in a breath and nodded, “Right… yes, of course.”

Sherlock pulled his lips into a tight line. “Sociopathy, that's right…” you murmured.

A few tears fell from your eyes, which you aggressively wiped away. Sherlock stepped forward to put a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n, I'm sorry... I didn’t-”

You stepped away from him and shook your head, “No, you don't have to apologize. Especially if you don't even mean it. Apologizing isn't your thing, right? Don't worry about it,” you laughed, your tears clouding your vision again. “You don't even like people! What are you doing at a wedding?”

He grimaced and watched you struggle to laugh it off. You always tried to put on your best face, even when you were clearly falling apart. He saw the pain inside and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a bit of it too.

“Parties? Love? That's not your thing, is it?” You coughed and looked around. Your hands fiddled with the material of your clothes. You glanced at the glowing, white moon in the sky…

“It's late… I think I’ll take my leave a bit early.”

“Y/n, stay. We can… talk. Or dance. Whatever you want. Just- don't leave me yet. Please,” the consequences of his actions were slowly hitting him. He had just signed a deal to let you go. He was going to lose you.

“No, Sherlock, you've done a lot of speaking today. You rest. Give John and Mary my love. Mycroft too, if you will,” a tear slipped from your face but you hastily wiped it with your hand.

Sherlock stepped forward to grasp your arm. “Please. Stay,” He was willing to beg at this point. What was he doing? This didn't feel right.

His body separated from his mind at that moment. He pulled you in for a silent embrace. He crossed his arms around you, locking you there and holding you securely. You stayed in that spot, absorbing his scent and letting your tears fall silently.

He lifted your face to look at him. Sherlock’s eyes flickered across your tear-stained face. A calloused thumb swiped underneath your eyes to dry your tears. You shakily exhaled from his gentle touch and how careful he was being with you.

Sherlock found his eyes locked on your lips soon enough. Hesitantly, he leaned in, closing his eyes. You wanted this. Deep inside, you craved his affections. But not like this.

Before your lips met, you dropped your head down, feeling him stutter abruptly. You felt his lips meet with your head instead, pulling a surprised sound from him. Your lips trembled. You just couldn’t let him do it like this.

Sherlock tried to lift your face again, but you kept your gaze down. Your heart drummed violently within you. At the same time, you felt at peace. For now.

You patted his arms and pried away from him again. You wiped your cheek and dared to look him in the face. You could have sworn he was crying as well.

“... I'll erm, just be going to a friend’s, don't worry about me. I'll see you soon, Holmes. Have a good night.”

“Y/n,” he called out, but you had already turned your back and slipped into the crowd inside. He rushed to pull you back but it was too late. Sherlock swung the glass door open, pushing people aside to catch up. But he couldn't see you with the heads of other guests bouncing in the way.

He caught the attention of John and Mary on the dance floor. They followed his gaze and he saw them call out for you too. John gave him a pitiful look.

John is fine with this, of course. It makes sense for Sherlock. He stops pestering the detective about relationships and realizes that conventionality just isn't for him.

He's just glad you two have each other to build off of and grow with. It's a relationship completely based on mutual understanding and respect. Something he admires, really.

You help him open up more. It was decided that the relationship would not work if there was no communication or room for discussion. Whenever there's a problem, you talk it out.

Now, Sherlock always comes to you if there's something outside of cases that's boggling his mind. And the other way around, he learns to be a better listener.

Sherlock does his best to be more careful and text you more frequently from now on because he knows how much it worries you when he suddenly goes MIA without a peep

You introduce him to texting etiquette. Rather than the cold, curt bubbles of speech you usually get, he actually starts small talk and uses fewer full stops. And of course, no need to sign his texts anymore.

It's a small thing, but you start to feel a little more warmth from Sherlock Holmes through his texts.

("Coming back home. Hungry?")

("It's raining mad out here. I'll be a bit late.")

On long nights at the Yard, sometimes Sherlock comes home and just takes his scarf off and leaves it on the floor, makes a straight line towards you working on the couch and puts his weight on you, exhausted

He isn't really comfortable with cuddling yet, but being next to you comforts him and it helps him sleep

So you do your own thing, leaning back into the couch and making room for him to lean into your side, his head on your shoulder, and his hand holding the cuffs of your shirt.

You'll chuckle a little, rubbing soothing circles into his shoulder through his coat, and ask, "Long day?"

Sherlock would groan and sigh in your shoulder, shifting a little closer before muttering, "Missed you."

You briskly wiped down the old green couch with your hand and led Sherlock to sit on it. He groaned lowly in pain as he carefully leaned back into the cushions. You frowned watching Sherlock’s sore expression. His eyes were shut tight and he hissed quietly, an arm clutching his ribs.

John did quite a number on him. It was your job to watch over him while Sherlock was gone but you supposed that no amount of pampering and comfort could bring anyone complete peace after losing their best friend — someone that meant so much to John. But you didn’t doubt that Mary would help bring him around with time. They were Holmes and Watson after all. They always figured it out no matter how much they’d like to deny it.

Sherlock eventually opened his eyes again and found you staring. He made an effort to straighten his back and relax his face as best as he could in his condition. He flashed a sarcastic smirk. His voice came out quiet and tired. “Don’t worry. I’ve looked worse.” There was that infamous wittiness you remembered so dearly.

You fought back the smile trying to creep on your face and shook your head at him. You went to the bathroom to grab some first-aid supplies. You returned to the living room with a bowl of cold water, some towels, and a first-aid kit. With everything on the coffee table beside the couch, you just stood in front of him expectantly. No words had to be exchanged for him to understand that you were waiting for his permission to help him. He smiled a little at your old habit. Always the sweetheart. Sherlock nodded lightly and you sat yourself down on a soft spot next to the detective.

His eyes followed your hands as you wrung out a small towel in the water. You dabbed the cold cloth along his long face, being sure to avoid touching the cuts and green bruises. Sherlock inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and relaxing under your care. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach seeing how calm he was with your touch. How he could fully trust you and be himself in your proximity.

Even when he was wounded and struggling to keep himself together, his mind was still racing as fast as ever. You swore you could hear how loud his thoughts were bouncing around in his head. Suddenly, the curly-haired man sighed heavily, “I thought I told you to take care of him when I left.” He was referring to John.

“I did, Sherlock.”

“Not well enough, surely,” he perked his eyebrow and immediately winced from it. You blew air in your face, huffing at his comment. “I did the best someone could do when their friend disappeared off the face of the earth for two years.” Sherlock was silent hearing this. Afraid you had struck a nerve, you scanned his face, searching for any signs of vulnerability. But he looked overall unconcerned so you decided to continue.

“He has been quite well, actually, aside from tackling you at dinner. He met Mary a few months ago and really felt something special with her… He was actually trying to propose tonight,” you said pointedly, pausing your sanitizing to give him a sharp look. Although his eyes were still shut, his lip twitched from the feeling of your gaze.

“John hasn’t been the same as before but let’s face it, no one is. We’ve all been doing the best we can; I’ve been doing the best I can.” The subtle shaking in your voice didn’t fly past him. It was safe to say that he was a big reason for your internal disturbance. He peeked an eye open and analyzed your expression.

You were focused solely on taking care of his injuries. Your brows furrowed down in concentration and your jaw clenched and unclenched ever so often. In your eyes, you were troubled. Conflict flashed and swirled within them but Sherlock could see how you suppressed those thoughts.

He knew you spent these last two years blocking out everything and marching forward. All this effort to keep yourself functioning. To keep living each day one second at a time. If it were otherwise, you would have cracked under the overwhelming pressure a long time ago. Anyone would do so. And yet here you were, still putting others before yourself like always.

Your hand accidentally brushed the cotton pad over his cheekbone. He hissed sharply and pulled his head away. You mumbled a quiet apology, “Sorry.” Your gentle hands carefully caressed his face and pushed his hair away. Along the way, you ran your fingers through his wavy locks. Sherlock leaned into your hand from the sensation.

He was reminded of how much he missed your tenderness. No matter how many harsh jabs you tried to throw at him, you were too good for him. It was a known fact to Sherlock — and one he did not choose to argue with.

His pale hand trailed along your waist as you leaned forward to patch up his wounds. Your mind was too busy to register his fond touch. Sherlock absentmindedly messed with the material of your clothes. He was soon engrossed in the feeling of the fabric wrinkling under his rough fingertips. You were still wearing your formal attire from the restaurant and Sherlock had to admit, it was a good look on you.

“You clean up nicely,” he commented. His soft tone shook you out of your immersive state. You pulled your hands away from his cuts and looked at him, baffled. “Was that a compliment I heard?” Sherlock made a small smirk and shrugged. You narrowed your eyes down at him. “...Odd hearing that from you.”

“I’m a changed man.” He smiled at you and you willingly returned it. The detective was all patched up now but you found yourself resistant to leaving that spot on the couch. Sherlock was humming deeply under the slow circles of your fingertips in his hair. You felt your chest heaving up and down as your eyes flickered along his beautiful features in the room’s dim lighting. You were his peace as he was yours. “You have no idea how much I've missed seeing your annoying face.”

“Well that's not a very good compliment,” he mumbled, on the brink of falling into a sweet slumber from your ministrations. You snorted at his casual humor, trailing your fingers around his jaw. “Yep. Definitely missed that.” He grinned in response and covered your warm hand with his, getting lost in your eyes. 

You continued to trace his features, delicately dancing around his wounds. Sherlock’s colourful eyes pierced through you and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes were blown, dilated. You could feel the vibrations of his heart pulsing through his body and over to yours when you touched him. The way he remembered to stop and breathe and all the tension in his body left when you were with him. And that’s when the realization finally settled in.

Sherlock is back. It's really him. A tear slipped from your eyes and a strangled noise gurgled in your throat. You pressed a hard kiss on his hand and curled up into his chest. He was shocked, jumping at first, startled by your sudden movement.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around your figure and rubbed your back comfortingly. He hushed you, now being the one to run his fingers through your hair. “I really did miss you, Sherlock,” you hopelessly cried into his shoulder. “It’s been so long. I’ve been so worried, you idiot.” You weakly pushed his chest but ultimately ended up hugging him.

Life at Hogwarts really wasn’t all the luxury and galore it was hyped up to be when you first heard of it — aside from the occasional bizarre pranks from the Weasley twins, of course. 

Otherwise, everything was the same old, same old typical magic school — until you met the golden Gryffindor trio: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the legend himself, Harry Potter.

You had only heard rumors and stories of him prior to actually engaging with him and his friends.

A particular redheaded potions partner of yours had accidentally dragged you into one of their infamous troublemaking shenanigans. That night ended up making your friendship so closely knit, the bond was incredible; a connection you had never shared with anyone else before. And now, that has all led up to you being considered an official part of their trio- sorry, quartet.

With the upcoming annual Yule Ball, you found yourself in a constant state of clammy hands and stress. There was excited chatter in the air from students of all three schools: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. With so many people, there’s bound to be an abundance of missing pairs. But you couldn’t help but feel your stomach twirl and topple at the thought of the approaching dance.

Professor McGonagall had all of the fourth-year students gather in one of the bigger classrooms to begin teaching proper ballroom dancing etiquette. But her elegant voice fell numb to your ears as you overloaded your head with your own thoughts. You didn’t realize where your gaze was wandering until you tuned back in and found yourself looking at Hermione.

Your wavy-haired friend was waltzing in the center of the room. Professor McGonagall was no longer speaking as it seems her voice was replaced with a cheerful vinyl cadence. You felt your lips part as you stared at her graceful movement, every step light and careful. Her chin poised confidently as she twirled in sync with another boy. Her form was exceptional.

You didn’t even remember when you stood, but you figured it was because everyone else was standing tall, clapping their hands together and cheering. Your eyes snapped back to Hermione and her partner. Their dance just finished. It was only an example. She truly was the brightest witch of her age.

A lovely smile spread from cheek to cheek as she lowered her head bashfully. The girl’s hand rose to acknowledge some familiar faces. And then you felt them move to you. Those warm brown eyes melding into yours. She was smiling at you.

A grin threatened to creep up on your own face. You lifted your hand, waving back meekly. Your brief moment of sweetness was spoiled when you were shoved, nearly losing your balance if it weren’t for the pair of arms grasping onto your shoulders.

“YES! Gotcha!” a familiar boy exclaimed. You turned your head to discover that it was Harry Potter who suddenly latched onto you. The sound of Ron’s defeated grumble followed shortly after you were tackled. Your redheaded friend quickly smacked your glasses one upside the head and offered you an apologetic grin before scurrying away into the crowd of other students.

“Well, that worked out.” Harry chuckled breathily and shrugged. You snapped back towards him, punching his chest. “Ow!” He winced and clutched the spot. “What was that for?”

“I should be the one asking that, Potter! You nearly knocked me over!” you hissed at him angrily.

Your eyes caught Hermione’s for another bittersweet second. She was laughing at you from behind her hand, making the edges of your lips curl up. Then your friend spoke up again to remind you of his presence.

“That’s fair enough. Sorry about that,” Harry apologized sheepishly, “Hermione’s already got a partner and with you being the only girl left, Ron was practically barrelling towards you. So, I had to beat him to you first.”

You stared at him with bewilderment for a moment before both of you cracked a smile and laughed together. Someone interrupted your antics by clearing their throat and your laughter ceased immediately under the stern stare of Professor McGonagall.

“Ms. L/n, Mr. Potter, I advise that you two begin practicing now or you may very well end up perched in your own dorms during the ball instead,” her thin eyebrow rose at the two of you. Harry swallowed and you nodded silently, snapping into position like mechanical dolls.

A pleased smile made its way onto the professor’s face and she turned towards the back of the classroom. “Mr. Weasley!” she hollered, “Since it seems that all of your peers are taken, you’ll be practicing with me.”

You and Harry’s eyes flicked over to Ron who was sitting by himself on the benches, reluctantly shaking his ginger hair. “Oh, I think it’s quite alright, Professor McGonagall. I’m much better over-”

With a single glare, Ron was on his feet in an instant. The ginger boy skittered across the room to her with his head hung low. He sneaked a glance at the two of you, unsurprised to find your amused smirks.

“Chin up, eye contact,” the professor directed slowly. You had to turn away quickly, allowing yourself to snort quietly.

“Classy, she is.” Harry whispered to you. Your hand shot up to stifle your snickering since she was right behind both of you. Harry’s high-pitched giggles weren’t making it any easier.

An attempt was made to compose yourselves, but ultimately failed when you felt a firm kick at your knees, forcing you to tumble to the floor and bring Harry down with you. Some gasps and laughs from your classmates were shared around you but most kids pretended to ignore it and focus on their dancing. The two of you were left speechless, sharp eyes directed at Ron who was wearing a victorious smirk he couldn’t hide.

<><><><><>

9 days until the ball.

Thankfully, the workload wasn’t picking up too much because of the Yule Ball. Teachers were busying themselves with winter decorations and preparation, students were figuring out who they wanted to go to the once in a lifetime ball with.

At this point, you were stressing so much over the dance, you found yourself walking in giant circles around the school and passing by the same trees and groups of people; somehow hoping that the next corner would reveal something different than the last 15 times.

Your eyes wandered, landing on different students enjoying themselves by the school’s pillars. You began to notice a pattern where some girls had beaming smiles and were excitedly talking with their friends. Probably because their date said yes. Your lip slipped under your teeth nervously. You needed to find someone before you pushed it to the very last minute.

“Excusez-moi!” you were surprised to hear French around here. You turned to face the girl the voice belonged to. “You are in Gryffindor, right?” She had a lovely, thick French accent. So this was a girl from the Beauxbatons.

Your eyes flicked down to your maroon colored robe. “Oh, y-yes. What’s wrong?” The brunette in front of you smiled dearly.

“I wanted to know where I could find the dorms?” Your cheeks felt warmer than before, whipping against the cold breeze today.

“Ah, the tower over there — yes, the one with the red flags and the lions. That’s where you’ll want to go.” The Beauxbaton girl nodded in understanding and flashed you another bright smile. She grabbed your hand, very much to your own shock and surprise.

Shivers rippled under your skin and your cheeks were hotter now as the brunette held your hand with both of her warm ones, shaking them gratefully. “Merci, mademoiselle.”

The girl dropped your hands to head towards the tower, her silky blue coat flowing behind her. Your heart tightened and you didn’t know what came over you suddenly.

“Wait I-!” The Beauxbaton girl stopped and swiftly turned back to you, her expression expectant but kind. You had to have been burning up by now.

“I uhm. I was wondering if you already had a… a date?” The girl’s eyes widened and confusion flashed across her features. Your palms grew sweaty again. “N-Not me! But for… for a friend of mine. A boy.” You quickly excused yourself.

The girl with the brown ponytail’s expression relaxed and a relieved smile replaced it shortly after. “I’m sorry, I’ve already been asked by another boy.” Thought so.

“Oh, yeah, no worries. Have fun at the uh, ball!”

It was a pathetic excuse for a coverup. Nonetheless, the French girl let her white smile linger a little longer before going on her way. You were left standing in your spot, an embarrassed and frustrated mess. Never again.

<><><><><>

5 days until the ball.

“Y/n, you have to say yes to at least one of them!” Hermione carefully shoved you, clearly disapproving of your stubbornness.

“No one else is gonna want to ask you out if you keep this up,” Ron added in.

“I think that’s what she’s trying to do.” Harry half-joked. You rolled your eyes and kicked his crossed legs, receiving an amused snicker in response. You tried to steal a subtle peek over your shoulder at Seamus across the common room.

It looked as though he was getting just as chewed out by his own friends. His wide eyes met your own and he flashed a shy tight-lipped smile before turning his pink cheeks towards his feet. You turned back to mind your own business, feeling the heavy stares from 3 sets of eyes burning into you. You simply disregarded your friends completely and glued your eyes to your “Defence Against The Dark Arts” book.

Ron groaned with exasperation, “I don’t understand. Seamus can’t be that bad, can he? Sure, he can be a bit of an arse sometimes but I thought he was rather popular with you girls-”

“I don’t have anything against him!” you retorted as though it was so incredibly obvious. “I know that he’s a good lad, I just… I don’t want to go with him.” Your voice seemed to fail itself towards the end of that statement since it became more of a mutter.

Hermione sighed beside you and leaned against your form, shoulders touching. Your body immediately stiffened. It was a simple gesture, but your heart couldn’t help but go erratic. 

“Does this imply that there is someone in mind you want to go with, then?”

That familiar heat tingled at your cheeks. You could feel them all looking at you with curiosity and interest but refused to acknowledge them. There was no response to be given. Instead, you slumped further into the couch like a limp noodle trying to slip away and buried your entire face into your book, finding its contents incredibly fascinating now.

A pair of arms hooked underneath yours and hastily lifted you, jerking you upright again then snatching your book out of your clutches.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“You’re not even studying!” Granger smacked the thick cover square on your head, “Just listen, Y/n!” your wavy-haired friend snapped back sharply.

You were forced to actually look at her face now; something you did your very best to avoid. Her brown eyes piercing through your e/c ones with the ferocity of a lion the way she was staring at you.

The warmth from her hand resting on your shoulder made its way throughout your torso, spreading that slight heat, leaving it swirling in your chest. Your breath caught in your throat, making any sort of movement feel restrained. Your heart drummed louder in your ears and you couldn’t rip your eyes away from the girl that sat in front of you.

Hermione raising her eyebrow questionably was what brought you out of your fantastical daze. Your eyes fluttered and narrowed at her with confusion. The brunette took a deep breath in, growing impatient. She spoke slower this time for you to comprehend.

“I said: who has already asked you out?” You blinked rapidly, looking at her with sudden bewilderment.

“Wh-what? Why?”

“Just to rule them out,” Harry chimed in, his voice laced with eagerness. You observed their keen expressions and cringed inwardly. Potter raised both eyebrows curiously at the slight reaction.

Ron leaned forward, “Well? Spit it out?” You leaned back into the seat and closed your eyes, raising a hand to keep track.

“Seamus Finnigan, Lee Jordan, Dean Thomas, Justin Fletchley, Adrian Pucey…” you studied your five fingers for a second before turning it to them and nodding in confirmation. Each of their faces were of either shock, confusion, or disbelief.

Ron was the first to scoff. “Bloody hell, Y/n. Might as well go out with the entire school while you’re at it.”

“Adrian Pucey?” Hermione repeated. “A Slytherin?” You didn’t have much to say to them besides nodding and avoiding their gazes.

“Most of them are connected to Quidditch...” Harry said to himself, processing it, “So you’ve not agreed to go with any of them?” The boy with the scar gaped incredulously. Your silence answered that question for them too.

Harry switched position to lay down in front of the fireplace, comfortably propping himself up with one arm. “Maybe jocks aren’t your type,” Harry jested. You grinned and rolled your eyes at that known fact.

Ron leaned towards his famous wizard friend, “Or maybe Seamus’s entire friend group isn’t your type.” This teasing earned some good snorts and giggles from each of you. But it was true; it was different when you were around your friends but to anyone else, you were much too timid compared to the Quidditch boys at this school.

Hermione’s sweet laugh returned to your ear again. It was an delighted one that did not reek of ridicule.

“So then what’s wrong, Y/n? Girls don’t typically get that many opportunities, you know,” Granger chuckled lightly. But you could tell from her tone that she was also somewhat worried about you. Knowing that made your chest strain and your heart swell.

“Well, can we really blame you? Me and Ron have been trying to get a date since last week and we still have yet for a girl to say yes to us.”

Ron blew air from his lips and fell backward, splaying his back across the Gryffindor house rug. “To be fair, they’re all probably just trying to win over Y/n because they see her as a challenge, y’know? Like a trophy?”

The boys sniggered to themselves at the easy possibility of that. But a harsh look from Hermione forced them to tone it down. A look that would promise the involvement of Mrs. Weasley if necessary.

“Maybe I’m just scared,” you drew in a deep breath, “I’ve always been quite rubbish with doing things the traditional way.”

You weren’t looking at her, but you could tell that her eyebrows had twitched from your words. Hermione was frowning at you, deeply. Perhaps she was intending on asking you to elaborate when she parted her lips, but was interrupted by Ron:

“S’pose so. It seems to happen to every girl at some point.” At the sound of this, the young brunette witch had enough and whipped her head towards him, a heavy grimace on her face.

She forced a tight smile as she spoke through her teeth, “And what is that supposed to mean? I can’t help but notice how you keep referring to ‘girls this’ and ‘girls that’ this evening. Do enlighten me with your incredible knowledge on women, Ronald.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and utter annoyance.

Ron was taken aback for a second but blinked it away.

“Well, I’m only saying that it’s normal for girls to be shy around guys. I mean, the boys have to make the first move and ask the girls out — it’s always that way.” You stiffened, listening cautiously to his explanation.

“Girls have it lucky because they don’t have to worry about what they have to say. But, of course, it’s still intimidating. So I don’t blame Y/n for turning the blokes down — I’d be terrified!” Hermione crossed her arms next to you. You could practically feel the castle shake as she grinded her teeth.

She snarled back in response, “As if! I don’t expect you to understand anything about a woman’s role while you’re still hanging onto such ridiculously conventional ideals! Have you ever bothered trying to educate yourself before you speak?”

Harry nudged at Ron as a warning to shut up now but the redhead only grew more heated and continued yapping back at his brighter friend. He puffed his chest up and his voice jumped higher.

“Well, I don’t suppose you have a date, do you, Ms. Granger?”

This statement caught her off guard. Her eyes broadened at first, dumbfounded. You and Harry leaned back, squirming uncomfortably but making sure to keep to yourselves. When your eyes made contact, ‘help’ was the emotion on both your faces.

Hermione flicked a hair behind her shoulder. “What does that matter?” The girl scoffed defensively. Ron’s eyebrows shot up and a smile broke out. He chuckled heartily, pointing a finger at her.

“Oh, this is bloody brilliant! You’re no better than any of us — you haven’t even a date yourself!” Your eyes moved to Hermione, watching her features mold and shape from astonishment, then confusion, realization, embarrassment, and now anger.

“What would you know, Ron?!” The brunette’s face grew pink and she slammed her books shut, her knuckles white from clenching them so hard.

You instinctively rested a hesitant hand on her knee. Her muscles eventually relaxed as you gently soothed the area with your thumb. Her eyes fluttered closed and she took a deep breath in and out. Her own hand had subtly covered yours, delicately squeezing it as a silent thanks.

When she spoke up again, her voice was softer, but still firm.

“For your information, Ronald, I have been asked by someone.” This wasn’t the answer that any of you were expecting from your witch friend.

“What?!” The three of you almost said in perfect unison. You heard your own shriek the loudest.

Ron was skeptical so he narrowed his eyes at her, “Alright then, if you say so. What’s his name, hm?” Hermione squinted back at him and huffed. She aggressively stacked her books and stood, towering down at the redheaded klutz.

The brunette hissed, “I said I would think about it but now, I think I’m leaning towards that offer!” With a dramatic spin, she turned towards the stairway of the Gryffindor common room.

You felt your breath hitch as she stomped away. Before you could process it, you were standing up and calling after the girl.

“Wait- Hermione!” She pretended not to hear you and marched towards the stairwell. You huffed your hair out of your face and rustled around your books to gather your belongings.

“Word of advice, Ron: shut up, please,” you sighed before you waved a small goodbye to the boys and ran after your dear friend.

“Hermione, wait!” you hollered as you followed the sound of furious stomping down the castle hallways. You spun the girl around by the shoulder and she bumped into you unintentionally. The two of you gasped and jumped away briefly.

Hermione’s eyes jumped over to the window on the wall, brushing a strand of wavy hair behind her ear. Was she… blushing?

“Sorry, Ron can be an idiot sometimes. Do you want to talk about it?” you offered your friend. Her sharp brown eyes found yours as she frowned deeply at the mention of your friend’s name.

“Yes, he can be.” Her answer was short and direct. Hermione grabbed your hand and dragged you along with her. Maybe you just heard your heart leap out your chest and crash through the ground.

Your eyes didn’t leave the sight of your hands holding one another. Oh God, her hands were so warm and firm around yours. She held you with meaning. It was beyond pleasant. You had no words.

Hermione had dragged the two of you to one of the castle balconies and sat you down on one of the benches. Your eyes wandered around the gorgeous landscape around you. Sometimes you just didn’t take the time to really appreciate the terrain.

“When the boys are being annoying,” Hermione started, “I like to come out here and collect myself.”

You nodded in agreement and scanned the mountains and rivers. “The fresh air is nice.” You turned back and found Hermione smiling back at you fondly. You pressed your lips into a flat line and made weak efforts to hide the growing heat in your face.

Even when you couldn’t see her, you could feel the intentional gaze of the brunette sitting beside you.

“So uhm, are you going to tell that boy you’ll go with him?”

“Hm?” Hermione questioned innocently. Her curious head tilt was so adorable even though she was just making a simple noise.

“The boy who asked you out…” you forced yourself to explain. It was like a strike to the heart.

To your surprise, Hermione snorted lightly and rolled her eyes sassily. “God, no. It was just to get Ron off my back. He just gets on my nerves so easily. Urgh!” She grunted.

Oh?

“So… you’re not going with anyone?”

“Not exactly. I just wasn’t interested in him. Viktor Krum isn’t really my type.” Were you hearing things?

“ ‘Viktor Krum’?!” you nearly screamed at her. Hermione flinched back a little and blinked at you blankly. She shrugged.

“Well, yes. I barely know him. I’m saving my date for someone I actually like.”

“You… like someone?” your voice barely came out as a whisper. But in your head, everything was booming. A bombard in your ribs as your heart drummed. Who could be worthy enough of a Granger’s affections?

Hermione only giggled at your childish question. “I think I’m old enough to have a crush, L/n.” You blushed hearing your name slip from her lips. You’d never grow tired of the way she addressed you. So sweet and yet such a tease at the same time.

“What’s he like?” you asked. It was meant to come out casually. You didn’t want to give yourself away so obviously. But damn, it was hard to stifle the burning feeling in your ears at the thought of Hermione having a romantic interest.

“Well…” your friend thought about the mystery boy, “He’s very cute. Always doing sweet things for me and getting protective when other people try to mess with me.” A toothy smile spread on Hermione’s face as she thought about the person.

“Stupid but smart somehow, his clothes are always so soft and smell like butterbeer for some reason, and… he makes me feel safe. I laugh when I’m with him.”

“Wow. He sounds like an amazing guy,” you mumbled distantly. Your fist clenched and twitched in your lap. Damn lucky, too.

What were you thinking? Hermione’s your closest friend. You shouldn’t have been thinking such thoughts anyway. Your mind was tricked because of how much time you spent with her, that was all. It was all mind tricks. You couldn’t possibly think to spend time with such a beautiful, charming witch such as-

Your self-pitying was pleasantly interrupted by a soft warmth pressed against your lips. This new presence was… comforting. You allowed your jealousy to melt away and your eyes closed. Your body leaned into the small hands wrapped behind your neck and over your shoulder.

Your lips gingerly kissed back at Hermione’s. Your actions were more hesitant, contrasted to hers’ which were passionately moving against yours and pulling you against her form. You could only relax fully once you felt a smile form on her lips as she rolled them against yours.

The girl slowly wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Hermione pulled away right when you were beginning to adjust to this new sensation. She kept her face close to yours and tangled her fingers in your hair, pinning it behind your ear and massaging your scalp there. A mischievous smirk took place on her pink lips.

“Did I mention the ‘he’ was a ‘she’?” As if the gears in your head were pushing to function, a lightbulb lit up in your head and you suddenly connected the dots. Your eyes were going to fall from your head.

“Me?” You asked Hermione, beyond bewildered. The girl nearly sputtered in your face at your answer. She cackled in her hands, almost falling back on the bench. You sat there dumbfounded, watching as she laughed heartily. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

“You idiot! I just kissed you!” She exclaimed, still giggling. You grew flustered at the realization and hid your flushed cheeks from her in your hands.

“OH! I’m sorry!” You felt a hard smack against your temple. Hermione was laughing and shaking her head at you.

The witch grabbed you by the collar of your uniform and smashed you into her lips again, kissing you earnestly. She pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek then moved to your ear.

“It’s you, Y/n. Take me to the ball, won’t you?” You nodded gently at her words, pulling her back to you by the chin and claiming your own kiss.

<><><><><>

Bonus:

“Why didn’t you just ask me first?” You questioned Hermione, messing with your laced fingers.

Your date chuckled in response. “I figured you’d catch on, eventually. Turns out you’re as dense as the boys.”

“Am not!”

“Oh, yes you are! Gosh, can you imagine how Ron would have reacted if I told you earlier? I’d love to see his head explode.” The two of you laughed at the vivid imagery, coming up with different scenarios in which Ron would simply lose it.

Hermione was right, of course. Harry was on the opposite end of the hallway, leading Ron away by the arm as his redheaded friend struggled to comprehend this outcome.

“What?! How did neither of us see this coming?”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Don’t try to seem smug now, Harry.”

“You’re just upset that you were wrong.”

“Of course I am! 9 bloody scenarios and it was none of them?! This is textbook stuff, Harry. We have so much to take note of…”