#ccwrites

Recently, I’ve found comics are getting a bit more taxing and time-consuming, and that the medium takes a bit too long to communicate the story I wish to tell. With the help of my friends Laura and Amanda, I’ve gotten back into the flow of writing and have decided to primarily tell my story this way!!!☺️💕💗 I will still make comics, and ofc will still make drawings, but I do think this is the best way I can share my story for now🥰 

I’m also hoping to include other OCs in my fic, so if you’re tagged below, I’m hoping to include yours😊- whether they be a recurring character or a cameo! If you don’t want your oc in the fic, let me know🫶 if I want to add any more, I’ll be sure to ask the creator first💖 I’ll be sure to let you know if your oc appears in a chapter, and will ask for your input to ensure they’re in-character🥰

@lyra-prag @amus2110 @amethystandemma @light-of-the-room @asha181 @weebiecreep @kijoo @elisalsaa @sallowsoul @alliezarin @sage-pages @tricarti  @keri-mcberry @myokk @idrewastar @cgway17 @mavenantonia @wolfwaill @soapallo @pierrot-dokki @stein0806  @honeyedblossom @akiyamacho @siboom777 @karajluce @howlborne-art @le-rryder @nari-chanxd @colettening @cheonchi @valyrra @traceyc-uk @diana-bluewolf @dom1re @slytherinsomniari @rafayellemika @heylorrain @lamieboo @limonnitsa @syaolaurant @monyokami @mooncalfwaltz @dzukika @blue-birdie612

The team were sat around the table in the briefing room. Garcia presented a series of murders in Michigan, all taking place in Lakeshore national park.

“The unsub kidnaps and beats the women he captures. He then releases them into the forest and hunts them with a rifle. He makes no efforts to bury the bodies. He’s leaving them for the animals in the park,” Morgan spoke.

“The absence of sexual assault would imply that he gets enough pleasure out of the hunt, he may be a loner. He was likely raised in an isolated environment, leading him to become reclusive and insecure around women,” y/n spoke.

“No,” Hotch interrupted.

The team fell quiet. Y/n was still the newest member to the team, she had been in the BAU for just over three months. Hotch never warmed to people quickly, but it seemed that something about y/n just rubbed him the wrong way.

“No?” Y/n questioned cautiously.

Hotch sighed, closing the file with slap, “I believe this unsub is socially confident. He lures the women he captures with charm. He can’t do that if he was raised in isolation. It’s ridiculous to assume he’s getting them to the park any other way. Read between the lines before you make stupid suggestions. Wheels up in 20.”

With that, Hotch stood up and left the room. The team sat silently for a second before slowly following suit. Y/n was the last to do so, shakily picking up her file from the table and closing it.

Rossi walked with her out of the briefing room and placed a hand on her shoulder when they reached his office, “Try not to take it to heart, kid. He’s just not comfortable with you yet.”

Y/n but her lip, trying to keep a brave face, her voice betraying her as it cracked, “I don’t know what more I can do, Dave.”

“Just hold on a bit longer. For what it’s worth, I think your profile is right. We’ll just have to see when we get out there,” Rossi smiled softly before retreating into his office.

Y/n walked down to the bullpen and collapsed into her desk chair. Placing her head in her hands she sighed before opening her desk drawer, pulling out an envelope. In it contained a letter of resignation. She didn’t want to give Hotch the satisfaction of her quitting, she really didn’t but she also knew that, sometimes, you just have to realise when you’re not wanted.

“What’s that?” She heard Spencer gently ask from his desk.

She looked up at him, twirling the envelope in her hands, “What do you think.”

Reid smiled at her sadly, “Just… hold off. At least until this case is over. You’re really good y/n, the team needs you.”

“I’m not so sure, Spence,” she smiled sadly, slipping the envelope into her inside pocket.

---

The team were now in the jet, y/n sat alone, gazing out the window at the clouds below.

Two rows down, Hotch sat looking over paper work. Footsteps approached him and he looked up to see Morgan. There was a moment of silence as Morgan sat down, looking at him. Sighing, Hotch put the file down and raised an eyebrow at him, “Do you need something?”

“What is going on with you Hotch? I understand not trusting a new agent but y/n’s been with us for months. She’s good at what she does, I think you’re being way too harsh on ‘er, man,” Morgan spoke.

Hotch’s jaw clenched tightly as he leant forward, “Is she? The way I see it I have an inexperienced agent on our team. She’s untrustworthy and foolish. She can hardly put together a profile let alone chase an unsub. I don’t want someone like that on my team.”

Silence fell through the jet.

“I- um. I thought you might want coffee,” a tiny voice muttered from beside them.

Y/n stood with two mugs, gently placing them down in front of the men. She silently turned around and retreated to her isolated spot on the plane. She bit her lip so hard it started to bleed, the taste of copper staining her tongue. She was trying her best not to cry, that was the last thing Hotch wanted to see, she thought.

---

The team had been in Michigan for the last three days. Y/n hadn’t spoken much since the plane, only chipping in when asked a question. The profile had led them to a 35 year old male, raised in a cabin by his uncle away from the city. Even when her profile was right she didn’t mention it, afraid she would unsettle the team.

They were walking through the forest towards the location of the unsubs property.

Seeing the house in the distance Morgan spoke, “Reid and I will take the front. Prentiss, Rossi you guys cover us. Hotch and y/n go round the back in case he tries to escape.”

They followed Morgan’s instructions, splitting up and running quietly to the back of the house. Hotch scanned the trees as y/n heard the rest of the team and S.W.A.T kicking in the front door.

Hotch wasn’t paying attention to the back door as the unsub ran out, shotgun in hand. In an instant, y/n saw the unsub raise his gun for Hotch.

Time slowed. She could shout for him to drop, but by then he would be dead. He would turn first to see what was happening and then his son would be without his only parent.

So she pushed him to the ground, a bullet piercing her abdomen.

Another two shots rung out. One hit her shoulder, the next one landed in between the unsubs eyes. Hotch had shot him from his place on the floor.

The rest of the team ran through the door, first seeing the unsub on the ground, then y/n swaying. Her hand came up to her stomach in shock, blood seeping onto her hands.

Emily gasped from the door way, Morgan muttered, ‘oh my god.’

Y/n let out a spluttering cough as blood poured from her mouth.

She collapsed.

She heard them running to her from across the yard but the first thing she saw was Hotch’s distraught face above her. His hands open her jacket and push into her abdomen. She groaned as the pain suddenly hit. The rest of the team appeared around them as Reid screamed for an ambulance. Y/n felt as though she couldn’t breathe, she was choking on blood. She could see their mouths moving but couldn’t hear what they were saying until one voice cut through.

“Come on, y/n! Stay with me!”

It was Hotch.

Her eyes roamed the sky as she spluttered, “I-it hurts.”

“I know, I know. Help is coming, you’re going to be okay, I promise,” Hotch said.

She didn’t think she was crying until she felt something trickle down her cheeks. Prentiss had her hands pressed against the wound on her shoulder, Morgan was pacing distraught in the background and Spencer had gone to guide the paramedics. Rossi was holding her hand. He reaches up and wipes the tears from her face.

“I-I’m sorry,” she coughed.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, bella,” Rossi with conviction.

“I-I shouldn’t h-have interfered with t-the team. Hotch was r-right,” she stuttered. She could hear the sirens coming now, but she couldn’t help but feel as though the ringing was pulling her somewhere else.

“Just-“ Hotch paused, guilt flowing through him, “Try not to talk. The paramedics are coming now.”

Hotch looked away from the paramedics who were being led by a frantic looking Reid and back down to y/n.

She wasn’t breathing.

“H-help! She’s not breathing!” Hotch near screamed, distress echoing through his voice. The paramedics shoved their way through and began attaching the monitors and paddles to y/n’s chest.

“I’m not getting a pulse,” one spoke.

The team stood together, Prentiss and Hotchner looking broken and bloodied.

The deal Lily had struck with her family—James and Lily could spend almost as much time as they wanted together in the week before and after Christmas (almost, because of a 10pm curfew), and in return, he would make no appearance during the Evans’s stay at the Dursley family home from December 24-6th—was, objectively, more than fair.

So Lily had told herself (and James) when they agreed to it.

So she had reminded herself when they said goodbye last night.

So she had repeated like a mantra while Petunia talked over the new Queen album for the entire drive to Yorkshire…while Vernon volunteered to carry Lily’s bag upstairs and then promptly dropped it on her foot…while Lily curled up on the couch after dinner, head on her mother’s shoulder, and buried her nose in the jumper she’d nicked from James until she was finally permitted to go to bed.

But now, as she brushed her hair in the bathroom after one James Potter-less day with the prospect of two more before her, Lily wondered if she ought to have added some clauses. Clauses like sweaters that smell like boys must continue to smell like those boys for the duration of the holiday and fireplaces must come equipped with small bowls of green powder on their mantels.

Lily sighed. She really did love Christmas, and the house and company might not be Lily’s cup of tea, but Petunia was truly happy here. Lily’s sister positively glowed, and that was worth a few cold, lonely days for Lily. She climbed into bed and tried not to think about how much larger it was than the twin bed she had been sleeping in at home.

“Snaps. Snaps. Snaps.”

Lily woke with a start to find hazel eyes inches from hers. “What the h—umfgh?” James’s hand muffled the last word of her question.

“Shh, you’ll wake the Dirtbags.”

“Dursleys.”

“That’s what I said.” As Lily blinked the sleep from her eyes, she realized he was nude except for boxers. He tugged on the corner of her comforter, grinning. “Lemme in.”

“What are you…Did you Apparate into my bedroom naked?” Lily half-sat up, and James made a face.

“Priorities, Snaps. Cold room. Blanket first, then chat.”

Lily laughed and scooted to the far side of the bed, letting James crawl under the covers. He wrapped his left arm around her waist and Lily tugged his right arm under her head, prodding him until she could use his bicep as a pillow. She reached up and stroked his jaw with gentle fingers, his hard lines softening just a little under her touch. “Warm now?” she whispered.

“Almost.” James kissed her. She pulled him closer, threading her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, and he rolled on top of her and skimmed his left hand down her body until he found bare skin at her thigh. Lily’s tongue brushed his bottom lip and his mouth opened, and Lily lost herself in the heady rush of kissing James Potter for a long, lovely while.

“I missed you stupidly,” she murmured at length, and he pulled away slightly to gaze down at her, thumb brushing her cheek.

“We haven’t been apart that long since November.”

“It was awful. Let’s never do it again.”

James smirked. “A day? I’m not sure that one’s avoidable, Snaps.”

“Don’t act tough. I’m not the one who showed up in your bedroom in the middle of the night.”

She had him there. “I missed you stupidly too.” She wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed tight, pulling him down beside her.

“Love you,” Lily sighed into the crook of his neck, and goosebumps ran down James’s spine. “Love you, love you, love you. Thank you for coming. Want you here always. But…you know you can’t stay,” she muttered nervously, pulling away enough to make eye contact. “There’s no way to pass it off with the Muggles, and…and your Mum and Dad! And Sirius will want to spend Christmas with you, and…”

James cut her off with another kiss. “I’ll go when people start moving,” he murmured. “I charmed your door locked when I got in. Mum and Dad won’t expect me to be up ‘til noon…Padfoot might break into my room if he gets bored, but he’ll cover for us, so who cares?”

“Sure, he’ll cover, right up until he sees a chance to blackmail us…”

“It’s Christmas. I’m waking up next to naked Lily Evans. End of discussion. Speaking of which…” he tugged at the oversized tee covering her torso, “This has done its time. Off.”

Lily laughed. “I see why you’re really here, Potter.”

“How else am I supposed to give you your Christmas present?” He raised his eyebrows, smirking, and she sent him a flat look.

“You live in a castle, James. I know I said keep a sane budget, but if my Christmas present is a sexual favor, I guarantee that is the only direction they’ll be going for a long, long time.”

“Noted,” he chuckled in her ear. “Let it be known that if my Christmas present is a sexual favor, there will be no complaints at all.” Lily giggled. “Now, to return to my original point…” his hand slid underneath the hem of the tee, pushing it up over her hips and waist toward her ribs. “Off.”

“You really don’t like it?” Lily asked coyly.

“Your dad’s t-shirt? Er, Snaps…” Lily raised an eyebrow and pulled back the covers slightly, letting the moon light her shirt.

His shirt, actually. His Quidditch jersey, with his name splashed across her chest.

James swore. He grazed his hand up her side to palm her chest through the shirt and clenched hard when he found her braless. “Wear this every day,” he growled. “I’ll wear Padfoot’s old one to matches, I don’t care. Fuck robes, this is your new uniform.”

Lily laughed, trailing her own hands over the warm, firm ridges of his abs, up over his chest, to massage his shoulders. “I like this uniform,” Lily murmured, and shimmied down to press her lips to his chest as a chuckle rumbled through it.

“Good point, Snaps. I do need to stay on track.” Both James’s hands slid down to the hem of her jersey, and he resumed teasing it up her hips and ribs.

“I’ll take it off, but you have to put it on,” Lily whispered abruptly, and James momentarily stopped his struggle to finagle his shirt off her in order to laugh.

“Are we doing a Quidditch fantasy? Because I hate to break it to you, Snitch, but I'm a Chaser, so..."

Lily bit playfully at his nipple, laughing. “No, Git, I just…” she trailed off. James squeezed her ribs.

“Out with it, Prig. Fantasize away, you filthy animal.”

She dug her forehead into his chest, a headbutt that quickly became a nuzzle. Nose pressed into his skin, she took a deep breath, ruffling the hair on James’s chest and making him shiver. “This whole house smells like lavender. You happen to smell different, so” (with dignity) “in the interest of olfactory variety, I’m permitting you to wear the clothes I’ve nicked from you.”

James’s hands clenched on her ribs and he pulled her up to the pillow, rolled over her, buried his face in her neck, and kissed her, swirling his tongue over her skin, breathing deeply through his nose. “I fucking love olfactory variety.”

Lily sighed, and his hands, gliding down her sides, momentarily froze. At length, James rolled them over, putting Lily over him. She sat up, straddling his hips, and the blanket fell back onto his legs, leaving both of them pale blue in the light of the moon.

Lily (finally) pulled his jersey over her head in one fluid motion, and James took a deep breath, hands gripping her thighs tightly. Lily bit her lip and laid her hands flat against his stomach, and something in her eyes just then (not that her eyes were his main point of focus) made James slow down a little.

“Hi,” James murmured, and Lily smiled.

“Hi,” she said in a small voice, and she placed her hands over his, brushing small fingers over the hard backs of his knuckles. James lifted just his thumbs from her legs to hook over hers. “James,” she whispered, “I’m really happy you’re here.”

“I’m happy too, Lily,” James said, his voice a now-familiar kind of strange.

Her smile grew, and she leaned forward over him (the view just kept getting better), running her hands up his arms to his shoulders, then down to his chest…

“What happened to the shirt?" James teased, as he flexed every muscle in his torso just to keep her looking at him like that.

Lily licked her lips and tossed his jersey over the side of the bed. “You don’t smell that good.”

James growled low in his throat, crooked grin splitting wide, and sat up to wrap an arm around her waist. He yanked a giggling, squealing Lily off of him, tossing her on her back on the bed, and slipped down her body until his head was between her legs. “You do,” James said.

flip wakes up before you. all the time. even on the weekends and even when he worked late the night before.

the two of you have your own morning routine, but he has his pre-you morning routing

during the week he’ll wake up at 5am, an hour or two later on the weekend. but he’ll get up, usually having to untangle himself from you, as much as he’d rather stay in bed with you

most of the time he’ll roll out of bed completely naked as one of his favorite nighttime routines is to fuck you senseless until you both pass out.

his first task is to turn up the heater. before you head to bed he usually sets it lower. the two of you make up for the heat the hvac doesn’t supply during those hours.

then he’ll jump in the shower. they’re never long, five minutes the most when you’re not taking a shower with him. he’d shampoo, condition, use body wash. simple.

then he’d make his way to the kitchen a put on a pot of coffee so it would be ready for you when you woke up. he’d always make it for you the way you liked so it would be sitting in one of your favorite mugs when you came stumbling into the kitchen.

after preparing your coffee he’d sit on the couch and turn on the tv, watching the morning news until you woke up

he’d watch you saunter into the kitchen and grab your coffee. you’d interchange between wearing one of his white t-shirts or one of his many flannels in the morning. whichever one you wore swallowing your form whole.

you’d come on sit next to him on the couch, your legs resting in his lap and snuggling into his side. sometimes it was uncomfortable, but neither of you minded.

he’d switch off the news, to some other morning program, usually reruns of the brady bunch. but he still told you some more important things he’d picked up from the news. you liked to know what was going on, but watching the news itself wasn’t the best start of your day. but it coming out of flip’s mouth, his voice. that was much better. you couldn’t be stressed listening to his deep, rumbling voice.

after finishing a half hour episode of whatever was on the two of you would make your way to the bathroom. you’d strip yourself of his shirt, his dark eyes watching the entire time. most days he’d run the risk of running late for work just to fuck you over the bathroom sink, but some days he couldn’t, if he had an important case or a meeting. 

while you showered he brushed his teeth, listening to you tell him about your plans for the day, or even sing. sometimes he’d tell you what he expected to do that day in between spits of toothpaste.

he’d help you dry off once you got out of the shower, just as an excuse to touch you. to touch your soft skin, the shape of your body. he’d be thinking about it all day.

you’d get dressed while he gathered his badge, wallet shoving them into his pockets. he’d slip his gun into its holster.

you’d meet him at the front door, grabbing his keys from the key holder hung on the wall, using them as an excuse to slip them into his back pocket and pull him close.

“i’m gonna miss you, baby,” you pouted, as if you could convince him to stay. you knew you couldn’t. most of the time, anyway.

he pressed his forehead against yours, his prominent nose that you loved so much nuzzling your own. “i’m gonna miss you, too. but i’ll see you tonight. and i’ll call you on my lunch break.” he pressed his plump limps against yours.

there were different types of kisses that he gave you. these were his goodbye kisses. gentle and full of love, hesitant when he pulled away.

always followed by a kiss to your cheek before he pulled away from you.

he’d head out the door and you watched him, leaning against the door frame as he got in his truck and started it up. he’d wave at you as he pulled out, you blowing him a kiss and waving in return, waving until he was out of sight and the rumble of his truck got quieter.

Sebastian, like any other student, had been intrigued when he first heard there was a new student at school. His curiosity had spiked further when he learned said new student had apparently been attacked by a dragon on the way here.

Naturally, he’d tried to learn everything he could about them. That didn’t seem too hard to do, as they were the talk of the school as soon as they arrived.

Bee Bluelake. Short, quiet, big-eyed and nervous. He wasn’t surprised at all to learn she’d befriended Poppy Sweeting within less than a day of arriving. They were both oddballs who adored animals.

He wasn’t expecting to actually meet Bee so soon, however. And he certainly wasn’t expecting her to beat him in a duel– on her first day no less! Him, the best duellist in school, beaten by the timid new student.

To be fair, he had riled her up quite a bit. But getting blasted completely off the platform in one hit wasn’t exactly the kind of power that came to mind when he looked at the tiny girl.

Needless to say…he found himself even more intrigued than before. Who was this girl? How was she already so good at dueling on her first day? And what was it exactly that made that blast so powerful? What was it that let her join the school year so late?

He was determined to find out. Hoping to learn more about this strange ability of hers (and possibly to spend time with her), he’d invited her to join Crossed Wands. She had refused.

He couldn’t wrap his head around why. She certainly had the talent, so why not make the most of it? That was when he had remembered: even during their duel, when she’d been irritated with him, she’d been rather skittish. Flinching away from spells, dodging needlessly, and freezing up at inopportune times. She was like a rabbit that came out of its burrow for the first time. An annoyed rabbit donning yellow and black.

Well….that was fine. He might be able to convince her someday. Perhaps he’d let her watch him first so she could see what it’s like? He’d still have plenty of other opportunities to talk to her, as she also shared the next class with him. And the class after that. And the class after that. The only problem was that, in pretty much every class, she was spending time with Poppy and only Poppy. It was like she’d decided she didn’t need any more friends.

They always talked about the same things too. In Herbology? How nifflers were known for plundering dragon caves. In potions? Dance patterns of mooncalves. Hell, even in as boring of a class as history of magic, they were still talking; this time about the very riveting migration patterns of jobberknolls.

They were like walking, talking animal encyclopedias.

Well, whatever. He’d have the whole rest of the year to get to talk to her. It’s not like she could only talk to Poppy Sweeting forever. In the meantime, he had his own business to attend to.

More specifically, another trip to the Restricted Section. Nevermind it was only his first day back; he’d already done what little research he could over the summer and was determined to get more done now that he once again had access to the school archives.

The last class of the day had ended and he headed off to the library to get his research done. As usual, he made sure to set off a ‘little distraction’ so dragon Scribner would leave her den.

He was on his way now, his plan going as flawlessly as he’d planned, when he heard a familiar girl’s voice whisper-shout, “Sebastian!” He freezes. Shit. No no, not now.

He turns to see Gwynevere Murong approaching him with a stern expression, hands on her hips. “What are you doing near the restricted section again?!” He suppresses a sigh, not really in the mood for a lecture right now. “I’m just getting something. I’ll be in and out.”

“‘Getting something’,” she repeats skeptically, “and what exactly would you be getting?” “My….homework,” he lies, “I left it in there.”

“And just how did your homework get inside the locked restricted section?” She says, clearly not buying it. He glances back in Scribner’s direction. He couldn’t see her anymore. Shit.

“It, uh- blew away,” he says, sidestepping her to continue on to the restricted section. “Sebastian! You’re going to get in trouble!” She hisses. He only walks faster, silently muttering the unlocking charm as he taps his wand to the lock. “Sebastian!! Sebastian Sallow!” Gwyn continues to hiss at him before a new voice booms, “Mr. Sallow!”

Before he can blink, his wand zips out of his hand and into the gnarled claw of the dragon lady. “Sneaking into the Reestricted Section again?!” Madame Scribner snaps, “on your first day back, no less!” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gwyn sigh and leave, not surprised by this outcome in the slightest.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any better from you,” Scribner continues on, “considering the conduct of your father when he was in school!” Sebastian feels a familiar twinge of irritation spark at the mention of his father, but forces his tone to remain flat as he instead replies, “my apologies, Madame Scribner. I was simply retrieving–“

“Detention! Detention is what you are receiving!” Scribner snaps, her beady eyes glaring holes into him. He groans internally. He really shouldn’t have expected anything different. “I expect you there at six sharp, Mr-“

A soft clearing of a throat interrupts them, and they turn to see Deputy Headmistress Weasley there. “Agnes,” Professor Weasley says amiably, “is there a problem here?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is!” Scribner says, puffing up like a proud peacock, “Mr. Sallow here attempted to break into the Restricted Section again! That’s the- what? Twentieth time now?”

“Nineteenth,” he corrects quietly and Scribner’s eyes flash in anger. “What was that?!”

“I see,” Professor Weasley says, interjecting before things escalate, “And why, pray tell, were you attempting to do so, Mr. Sallow?”

He sighed out of his nose. He already knew he wasn’t going to be able to fool Professor Weasley, but it’s not like he could just say “I’m looking for books on the dark arts to cure my sister!” So instead, he forced out the same lie of, “I was retrieving my homework. It caught in a draft of wind and blew in there earlier.”

“You see? He lies, too!” Scribner rants, “as if anyone is stupid enough to fall for–“

“Did you check?” Weasley asked.

“I– pardon?”

“Did you check?” Weasley repeats gently, “if his homework was actually in there?”

“Well– well, of course not!” Scribber sputtered, “that would be preposterous! He’s clearly lying–“

“I think he should be allowed to check,” Professor Weasley says calmly. Scribner’s mouth hangs open in disbelief, and even Sebastian’s eyes widen in surprise. Professor Weasley briefly meets his eyes and gives the tiniest nod. He nods back and opens the door to the restricted section, stepping inside to ‘retrieve his homework’. He can hear Scribner feebly attempting to protest from the other side of the door, clearly not keen on the idea of letting him have his way.

His mind is currently more preoccupied with why Professor Weasley would allow him to do such a thing. She’s certainly not the type to be easily fooled, so she must know the real reason he came here. But she wasn’t known for being easygoing either; if anything, she was one of the stricter professors. Which means she must have a reason for letting him go through with this.

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, as, after he exits the restricted section with his ‘homework’ in his bag, Professor Weasley says, “Mr. Sallow, come with me.”

“But he–“ Scribner begins again, and Weasley says, “he shall serve detention with me.” That seems to put an end to Scribner’s protests, even if the old bat still seems a little sour that she can’t be the one to host the detention. Satisfied, she nods, and leaves. “This way,” Weasley calls, and he follows her out the door and into the hallway.

He tries to think of what to say when she speaks first: “You know how I feel about your ‘schoolwork-related’ endeavors in the restricted section, Mr. Sallow,” Professor Weasley says sternly, “but– as it is the first day back, I’ll be a little more lenient today. I won’t give you detention if…you do something for me.”

He raises an eyebrow. This was new. He doesn’t recall a professor ever offering to strike a deal with him on…well, anything. “Like what?” He asks, and she replies, “I assume you’ve heard about our newest student, Beatrice Bluelake?”

He nods, the memory of the girl with the big brown eyes filling his mind. “Yes, I met her earlier today.”

“And you’re aware of how she was attacked by a dragon on the way to school here?” Weasley asks, and he nods.

“Well of course. Everyone’s heard of that by now.”

“Good. Then you know that she lost all of the supplies she needs for the school year in that attack,” Weasley says.

They round a corner, and he realizes they are not, in fact, going to her office. “Here is my offer: in just a few minutes, she will arrive near the gates leading into the school courtyard. I have told her that a student volunteer will walk her to Hogsmeade and help her purchase all the supplies she needs. In exchange for a detention excuse, I am asking you to be that student.”

He slows to a stop, now thoroughly surprised. “Me?” He repeats, “you want…me to show the new student the way to Hogsmeade?” Professor Weasley nods and says, “are you up to the task?”

Well, yes, he certainly was! Missing detention and getting to talk with Bluelake– two birds with one stone. He just couldn’t quite figure out why Professor Weasley had asked him of all people to do it.

Ah well. Best not to read too much into it for now.

He nods and says with a confident smile, “of course. Sounds easy enough. Take the new girl to hogsmeade, get her supplies–“

“And stop by the Three Broomsticks,” Professor Weasley says with a smile, and his own turns a tad more genuine. He’d almost forgotten she could be a cool teacher too. “Yeah. Grab a butterbeer or two,” he agrees.

“The rite of passage to being a Hogwarts student,” Professor Weasley chuckles, and he can’t help but do the same. “Very well then. You’d best be on your way. You don’t want to keep her waiting,” Professor Weasley says.

He nods and departs for the spot she’d instructed. Bee is already there, and looks to be rather lost in her thoughts. She is wandering around, idly kicking her foot against the ground as if trying to scuff nonexistent dirt.

“Well, fancy meeting you here,” he called in greeting, and she jumped about a centimeter in the air. He stifled a chuckle as she quickly turned around, surprise turning to recognition when she saw him. “Oh–Sebastian.” “That I am,” he says amusedly, sauntering over to her, “here at the service of my ‘new charge’.” She rolls her eyes but the corner of her lips twitches. Heh. This’ll be easy.

He grins and says, “I’m told you’re in dire need of supplies, and I’m to accompany you into Hogsmeade for them. Is this your first foray into the village?” She nods. “Yes. I haven’t left Hogwarts since I arrived.” She smiles shyly and adds, “I’ve been rather looking forward to seeing what’s outside.”

His smile broadens at her words, and he says, “well! I shall endeavor to be the very best of guides, then!” He gestures to the door and says, “shall we?” She nods and he pushes the great doors open, letting the sunlight in and them out into the courtyard.

He walks a few steps before noticing she isn’t following, and turns to see her looking around with wide eyes. His smile softens slightly, charmed by her awestruck expression. If she was this amazed by the courtyard alone, she’d certainly have a lot more to wonder over on the way to the village.

“Bluelake!” He called playfully, purposefully walking a few steps further away so she’d have to try harder to catch up, “are you coming or what?” She blinks, snapping out of her head and hurrying over. Just to tease her a little more, he slightly increases his speed. He watches with tremendous amusement as she has to walk even faster to catch up, her oversized robes catching the dust her shoes puff up.

“Sorry,” she says, a bit red when she finally meets up with him, “I got a tad distracted.” “Well, you’ll have plenty more to be distracted by on the way there,” he says, “the Hogwarts courtyard is nice, sure; but it can’t even begin to compare to everything out there.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve gone out before? Like– out, out?” His smile broadens, pleased to have something interesting to talk about. “Oh, sure. Loads of times. Everyone leaves the school now and then, but I do tend to be a bit more uh…‘openminded’ than some of our classmates.” Her brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well…let’s just put it this way,” he chuckles, “If you want to get the most out of your time at Hogwarts, you’re going to need to break the rules now and then. Whether it’s joining a secret dueling club”– he shoots a significant glance at her, which she chooses to ignore– “or sneaking into the restricted section of the library. You just have to be clever enough not to get caught.”

Before she can open her mouth to reply, likely to scold him, he spots something familiar up ahead. “Ah, just a moment,” he says, going off to the side and stopping next to a bush surrounded by glowing flies. Bee’s earlier annoyance immediately shifts into fascination as she too makes her way over. The neon green lights of the flies reflect in her large eyes as she takes them in.

“This is an excellent spot to gather Lacewing flies,” he says, “they’re pretty to look at, but–“

“They are!” She interrupts, totally enraptured by the lacewing flies as she leans forward to get a closer look at them. He can’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm and tries to continue, “yes, but they’re also–“ “Adorable?” She excitedly interrupts again, “I agree!” He bites his lip, trying to suppress a laugh. Perhaps he’d tell her they were used as potion ingredients another time.

She spent several more minutes admiring the lacewing flies before setting off with him again. “How are your eyes?” He teased. “Huh?” She tilts her head in confusion. He taps the spot next to his own eye and says, “your eyes. They must hurt from looking at the neon bugs for so long.” She rubs her eye and says, “only a little. They’re not too bright, they’re just like daytime fireflies. Mini-sun bugs.” He laughs to himself, finding the analogy equally silly and endearing.

“You know…” he says, “I’m glad Professor Weasley asked me to join you today.” Realizing that may have sounded a tad too sentimental, he jokingly adds, “it got me out of detention.” She snorts. “It’s only your first day back and you already somehow managed to get detention? What did you do?” He smoothly replies, “let’s just say Madam Scribner and I often have…differing opinions. She thinks I shouldn't be allowed in the Restricted Section. I, on the other hand, am inclined to disagree.”

He shakes his head and adds, “normally I don’t get caught. I just happened to be unlucky today.” “Today?” She repeats, “you mean you’ve snuck in before?” “You could say I’ve got experience,” he smirks.

“I’m guessing that means you’ve got experience in detentions too, then?” She teases, and he laughs. This girl was sassier than he thought she was. “Yes, well, I like to think they keep me well-rounded.” She nods sagely and responds, “yes, one can learn a great deal from writing ‘I must not sneak into the Restricted Section’ over and over a thousand times.”

“Oi! That’s not what I meant!” He laughs, nudging her playfully, “I’m talking about the reasons for the detentions! Like the ones I mentioned before….or, more exciting ones. Like sneaking into the Forbidden Forest.”

As if in direct response, a loud crying sound suddenly pierced through the clearing. The two looked up into the sky to see none other than two hippogriffs emerging from the treetops. “Merlin’s beard…!” He exclaimed, finding himself in genuine awe for the first time in a while, “hippogriffs from the forest!”

The two slow to a stop to get a better look at the majestic creatures as they fly overhead, their strong wings carrying them across the wind like the tidal waves of the sky. “You certainly don’t see that every day,” he breathes, watching the winged beauties fly off into the distance. He glances back at his companion and sees her still watching the hippogriffs, an expression of pure childlike wonder on her face. An odd sort of fondness fills him at the sight as he realizes, ‘she must be a muggleborn. It’s the only explanation for her being this amazed by everything.’

In that case, he’d definitely want the rest of the walk to be just as special for her. If this was really her first time in the magical world, he’d be sure to show her as many things as he could on the walk there. And it just so happened he knew the perfect next thing.

“Hey,” he says, calling her attention back to reality, “ready to go?” She blinks for a moment, then nods, traces of that awestruck smile still lingering on her face as the two continue on. “Those were….hippogriffs?” She asks softly, and he nods. “Hm…” she’s silent for a moment before saying, “I’ve never seen them in person before. They’re even more beautiful than the illustrations in my books.”

“Your books?” He repeats and she nods, opening her satchel to take out a book titled “A Guide to the Magical Creatures of Our World: Vol. One”. She flips through several bookmarks before finally landing on the desired page, moving a bit closer to him so he can see its contents. She points to an illustration of a hippogriff on the page, and says, “the illustration alone…I thought it was so gorgeous when I first saw it. But now that I’ve seen one with my own eyes, it…it just doesn’t compare.”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t compare at all…” His eyes flick up from the pages back to her face. Her eyes have once again taken on that strange, faraway look she seems to wear so often. They make her eyes look oddly gentle, as if seeing through the world around them into something else. Somewhere better than this, perhaps, if her peaceful expression is anything to go by.

Her eyes flick to his, and suddenly that all-seeing gaze is fixed on him. He clears his throat and looks away (since when has he ever done that?), saying, “yeah, well, the real thing is always better than pictures in a book. Even if they do move.” He pokes the hippogriff picture, and the illustrated animal snaps its beak at him. He chuckles and backs off as she closes the book. “Book’s got a temper. Must get it from its owner.” Her brows furrow and she asks, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirks and says, “well, in case you forgot, Bluelake, you got rather riled up in our first duel.” She turns red and looks away. “I-I did not…!” “Oh yes you did,” he says, his grin only widening, “in fact, you got so angry, you blasted me off the platform! Rather violent if you ask me.”

“I-it was an accident!” She exclaims, turning even redder, her face trying to decide between looking indignant or embarrassed. “Ah, so you admit it then,” he says. She doesn’t reply this time, choosing to instead look away with a pout.

His expression softens slightly at her guilty expression and he nudges her shoulder. “Ah, don’t beat yourself up about it. It wasn’t even that hard of a hit anyway.” (A total lie, but she didn’t need to know that.)

“Come on, I’ve got something to show you,” he says, gesturing for her to follow him as he leads them toward the side of the path. “Uh…Sebastian,” she says hesitantly when she sees the danger signs up ahead. “Relax, we’re not going in there,” he says with a wave of his hand, walking up to a bunch of honking daffodils, “I just wanted to show you these.”

Just as expected, she lights up at the sight of the frankly annoying plants, hurrying over and stooping low to get a better view of them.

“Are they–are they talking to each other?” She asks excitedly. He shrugs and says, “who can say. I’ve always personally thought they were just having shouting matches to see who can honk the loudest.”

She shakes her head, leaning in closer to the plants and saying, “no, no, I’m pretty sure they’re communicating with each other! Look! See how they turn to one another and reply to the last one who spoke to them? And some of them form little clusters, see? Like friend groups!”

She giggles, positively delighted by the cacophony of flowers. He watches the plants, trying to see what she means.

….nope. He doesn’t notice anything like that.

She seems to carry the opposite opinion, however, as she then lies flat on the ground to the flowers’ level and begins to honk as well. He snorts, trying to suppress a laugh at the ridiculous sight. “Wha– what are you doing?” He asks, and she says, “trying to communicate!” She continues to honk at the flowers. He turns away, biting his knuckles to keep from laughing too loudly.

This girl was….really something.

After a few more minutes of attempted ‘communication’, she finally rejoins him for their walk. “Get any good gossip from the plants?” He teases and she sighs, “oh shush. I’ll learn the language someday.” She still thinks it’s a language. He can’t help the laugh that escapes him this time. She shoots him a dirty look. He laughs harder.

The two walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she asks, “so… what was that forest anyway? With all the danger signs? Is that the Forbidden Forest you mentioned?” He nods and says, “that’s the one. The professors think it’s too dangerous for us to go in. I think they need to have more confidence in our defensive abilities.”

The two fall into a hushed silence as a carriage pulled by two shadowy creatures passes by. Though she’s never seen one before, he can tell by the way her eyes follow them that she too knows what they are.

Her eyes continue to follow them for a few moments more, and he says, “I’ve always found thestrals pulling a carriage a bit grim.” She turns to look at him now. “Though I suppose most people don’t actually see them at all,” he adds with a half-smile. She nods, then says, “but…you can?”

He nods, that familiar tightness in his chest returning, his words coming out a bit more clipped now. “Unfortunately. But you’ve seen quite a bit yourself first-hand too. Most notably that dragon attack.”

She nods, seeming to fold in on herself a bit at the mention. A pang of guilt goes through him at the sight. He should’ve known better than to bring up such a sensitive topic so soon.

He offers a comforting smile, trying to lighten the mood again when he says, “hopefully the rest of your year isn’t as eventful.” She returns his smile shyly.