#hl fic

You sighed through your nose and switched which hand was supporting your head. Next to you, Ominis had his head laid on his arms. You’re halfway certain he’s already read the chapter. On the other side of Ominis was Sebastian, spinning his quill in his hand as he pretended to be paying attention enough to take notes. It was the contrary. His mind was as focused on the lesson as yours was. 

Sebastian was watching you. You had been ever-so-slightly more quiet today, and, of course, he noticed. How could he not? You were one of his best friends and he took pride in knowing you better than anyone else in the castle. And he cared for you deeply, more than a best friend should. He couldn’t do anything about that though. He was too late to the game in realizing his feelings.

In early September, Ominis told Sebastian that if he was going to continue to be as obsessed with you as he was, he might as well ask you out. Sebastian stuttered out a flimsy denial of having feelings for you and then proceeded to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening having an existential crisis. 

You, on the other hand, had been walking with Imelda when the two of you ran into Isaac Cooper, a seventh year Gryffindor quidditch player. He and Imelda exchanged a few bouts of trash talk. Then he noticed you. Really noticed you. He proposed a wager for the upcoming Slytherin and Gryffindor match. If Slytherin wins, he’ll announce to the whole school that Imelda is the superior player, the best he’s ever seen. If Gryffindor wins, you go on a date with him. You weren’t the biggest fan of it, but Imelda assured you that Slytherin would win. 

Except they didn’t. 

You tried to keep your impending date with Isaac quiet. You didn’t want to make a big deal about it. It was the result of a wager gone bad. Ominis and Sebastian didn’t know about it until you had already left; the latter was asking where you had gone off to. Priscilla joyfully told them about the date. Sebastian’s face soured, but he played it off best he could. 

As he waited for you to get back, he kept reminding himself you didn’t like Isaac, you were only on the date because Imelda lost. He stood up from his chair the moment you descended from the steps. But you didn’t go to him. You, with a beaming smile on your face, grabbed Priscilla’s hand and pulled her toward the girls’ dormitories. The rest of your female friends followed. 

It hadn’t been a bad date and Isaac was better than you had been expecting. The boys would learn about this eventually. And Isaac became a more prominent part of your life, becoming your boyfriend after two more dates. You made sure not to ditch your friends for Isaac, but Sebastian had trouble accepting it when you would leave him and Ominis for the Gryffindor. 

It only got worse. At first, you’d randomly eat a meal at the Gryffindor table. You’d sit between Isaac and Natty with Cressida, Garreth and Leander across from you. It wasn’t too often so Sebsatian could deal with it. Then your relationship got more serious. You started eating lunch at their table religiously, although you were adamant that breakfast and dinner were for the Slytherins. 

That was the thing though. Lately, you never didn’t eat with lions at lunch, but today you ate at the Slytherin table. Not eating lunch with Isaac and being quiet? Sebastian didn’t want to speculate too much, but he had a feeling something was up with you and Isaac. He wanted to assume you’d broken up. He knew he couldn’t be so hopeful though. You might’ve changed your arrangement – maybe it was going to breakfast and dinner with Gryffindor and only lunch with the Slytherins. 

Still, Sebastian could be a little optimistic. He could believe, at least until dinner, that he might still have a chance with you.

You sighed through your nose again and Sebastian stopped spinning his quill. He could so easily lean over Ominis to ask if you were okay, or he could write on a spare piece of parchment and slide it over. Would that be a step too far for an attentive best friend? He didn’t think so. A good friend would notice when something was upsetting you. 

Just as Sebastian adjusted himself in his seat so that he could lean over the sleeping Ominis, the latter snored, making both you and Sebastian jump. Your pensive look was gone and so was the moment. Sebastian sunk back into his seat. Maybe he’d be able to ask you after class. 

You were quick to put your things away when Professor Binns dismissed you, and then you disappeared out of the classroom before Sebastian could stand up. He looked for you as he walked with Ominis to the greenhouses for Herbology. You were nowhere to be seen until a minute before Professor Garlick started the lesson. You were still noticeably distracted, even with a more enthralling subject. Luckily you had Poppy as your partner. Ominis had to smack Sebastian’s shoulder multiple times to ask him to do his half of the work. 

“Are you alright?” Poppy asked you while she dropped singular droplets of water onto the plant in front of her. “You haven’t said a word all lesson.” 

You hummed and blinked, shaking your head. “Yeah. I’m alright. I just… have something on my mind.”

Poppy nodded and didn’t press you further. She knew you well enough to know that if you wanted to talk about it with her, you would. You kept your cards close to your chest. 

Sebastian heard you. Unlike Poppy, he was going to get you to talk. You confided in each other before, some of the darkest things either of you had done and how it still affected you. Just because you had a boyfriend didn’t mean you didn’t have late night talks with Sebastian. You both knew that no one else could understand, not really. 

Despite Ominis’ repetitive yet futile attempts to get Sebastian to do his work, Sebastian kept an eye on you. He started cleaning up when you did. This time when you bolted for the greenhouse door, Sebastian was only a few steps behind you.

He should’ve called out. He should’ve asked you to stop or wait for him. But he sensed that you were on a mission to get somewhere so he let you keep going and he followed. He knew there was a chance that you were going to find Isaac, but that blow to his pride was a risk he was going to take. He didn’t know that part of why you were leaving class so hurriedly was so that you didn’t run into Isaac – the older boy had the last period free and sometimes waited for you outside your classroom. 

Sebastian felt something well in his chest when he realized where you were unintentionally leading him. The Undercroft. It was your happy medium, you had decided during Herbology. It had almost the privacy of the Room of Requirement but was closer to the busier areas of the castle so when you re-emerged, you could make up an excuse easier. 

You hadn’t even sat down on a couch you conjured last spring when you heard the clanging of the door. You wanted to be alone. What were the chances that one of the other two people who knew about this place would come here directly after classes?

“Hey,” Sebastian said, almost sheepishly from the door. 

You collapsed into your usual spot. “Hi.” 

He tried not to flinch at the flatness of your voice. He walked over and stood next to the couch, not sitting down just yet. 

“Do you mind? If I sit?” 

You waved your hand to say that he could. You didn’t look at him as he sat down, but you could feel that he was looking at you. You leaned back into the couch. Sebastian pressed his lips together as he angled his body toward you. 

“So you going to tell me what’s on your mind?” he asked after a few seconds of silence. 

“Nothing’s on my mind,” you lied. 

“That’s not what you told Sweeting.”

You sat up quickly and twisted your body to stare at Sebastian in mild shock. “You’re listening to my conversations?” 

“Only because she asked you if you were alright before I could.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“It’s more than you being quiet,” he added. 

“What?”

“You didn’t eat with the Gryffindors at lunch.” 

You clenched your jaw. That. You were sure that other people noticed, but no one brought it up. You talked to Natty and Garreth after lunch. Neither of them brought up Isaac nor your move across the hall. Ominis and Imelda hadn’t said anything, although they seemed more than happy to have you in their conversations. 

“Good observation,” you said sarcastically. 

Maybe you could play it off and-

“Did something happen with your quidditch player?” 

You sighed. Sebastian was so astute and direct when he wanted to be. 

“I broke it off last night,” you said. 

“Oh.” Sebastian tried his best to not sound pleased with the confirmation of his hopes. 

You had ended it. There was a good chance you were less broken-hearted and more angry, frustrated or whatever emotion you were feeling. Frankly, Sebastian considered himself better at dealing with any of those emotions. How would he comfort the girl he adores more than anything over a guy he wished she never dated in the first place? 

“Yeah. Oh,” you said a bit snappishly.

Sebastian couldn’t blame you for that reaction.

“Can I ask what happened? Do I want to know?” 

“You’re asking the wrong questions, Sallow.”

He tilted his head in the way you loved, the one that reminded you of a confused puppy. 

“You haven’t asked if I even want to talk about it.”

Sebastian had the audacity to laugh. You raised your eyebrows.

“I know you don’t want to, but you’re going to.”

“Am I now?” 

“Yes. Because we talk about things. The things we don’t want to talk about. The things we don’t want to face. We talk about them.”

“I don’t need to face it. It’s stupid.”

Sebastian’s smile widened. “Brilliant. I’m an expert at stupid.” He rested his arm on the back of the couch. “You know that.” Then he winked at you. 

You really didn’t want to tell Sebastian what had happened. It was none of his business. It was no one’s business except yours and Isaac’s. And really, in your opinion, it was more of Isaac’s problem than an issue with both of you. 

“It’s not important enough to talk about,” you said, hoping that would somehow disinterest him. 

“If it’s important enough to end a relationship over, it’s important enough to talk about.” 

“Sebastian,” you sighed. 

You were about to stand up and leave, standing firm in your decision to not talk to him about it. But then his fingers lightly grazed your shoulder and you were stuck in your seat. For a moment you understood what Isaac had said. 

“You’re not leaving until you talk to me about it. We can miss dinner. We can stay down here all night. Salazar, we could even miss classes tomorrow if you’re stubborn enough,” Sebastian said, looking at where his fingers were barely touching you. It didn’t mean anything but it still made his heart beat a little faster. 

You sighed more forcefully. You had to say something and maybe a smidge of the truth would get Sebastian to back off a little. 

“I don’t want to talk to you about it because it’s about you.”

The shock was evident on his face. You swore the freezing temperature of the Undercroft skyrocketed. A few moments of silence passed and the shock morphed into guilt.

“What did I do?” he asked softly. 

You were silly to think that telling him it involved him wouldn’t draw him in more. 

“You didn’t do anything,” you said, placing a hand on his knee. “You’ve just been my best friend.”

Guilt melted into confusion. He didn’t even have to ask.

“Isaac, well, he asked me to stop spending so much time with you. And I said no. Just because I’m dating someone doesn’t mean I’m going to drop my friends. And then, ugh, he said he didn’t have a problem with any of my other friends. Just you. And things were said – he claims you’re in love with me and basically said it’s you or him.”

“And you picked me?” he asked breathlessly. 

“I thought it’d be obvious that I’d pick you,” you said. “But he was more… flabbergasted when I said that with a, you know, ‘guess we’re done then.’ And I’ve spent all day worried he was going to try to corner me so we could talk about it more, but come on. There’s nothing to talk about. Which is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I mean, I get why you don’t want to talk about it with Poppy or any of the girls, but-” Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. “-I think it’s something we should talk about.”

You narrowed your eyes. “We just did.”

“No. You talked. And you said that you chose me over your boyfriend. Because I mean that much to you?” 

“I-I broke up with him because he was too insecure.” 

“And that bit where he said I’m in love with you?” 

You laughed with a shake of your head. “He isn’t the first to say it.”

“Oh?” How many people besides Isaac and Ominis thought this? Was Sebastian that obvious?

“But, I mean, I know you. No way you’re in love with me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“If you want something, you’ll do whatever you have to to get it. If you loved me like some people are convinced, you would’ve done something by now.”

“If I had done something…” Sebastian didn’t know how to finish his question.

You looked away from him, feeling your cheeks grow warm. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like I’ve never thought about it, but I assumed-”

As soon as you had said that you had thought about being something more with Sebastian, he was moving. He was leaning in until he cut you off with his lips. And as it was with him, he didn’t half-do anything. The hand that had grazed your shoulder was now holding your face, and the other was supporting his weight on the armrest. Any passing thoughts of regret dissipated immediately as you kissed him back. You wrapped an arm around his neck to keep him close to you. 

You had thought about this more than once. You thought about it guiltily while you were with Isaac. You thought about it over the summer and in the spring, once life had calmed down a little bit. You had thought about it from the moment you met him. His intense determination to help his sister, his cheeky humor and confidence. You were just so drawn to him; it was something you could never deny. 

“Why didn’t you-?” you asked, slightly out of breath when you separated. 

“The books I read, they don’t cover the differences between loving someone as your best friend and loving them as… your other half. I didn’t realize until Ominis pointed it out, and before I could even think about doing anything, you were with him. And, I wasn’t going to ruin that for you. Even if it hurt me to see it.”

“Damn, once again Ominis of all people saw things I didn’t,” you laughed before scooting a little closer to Sebastian. “How long do you think it will take him to find out that you’ve kissed me?” 

“Please, he’ll smell it on me when we get back to the dorms. Hell, he might already know.” 

“How would he know?” 

“I’m sure Cooper’s told people about you and him, and he’ll figure out that we’re both not in the common room, and he’ll put two and two together.”

“Or, he’ll have all that information and be muttering to himself about us being too dense.”

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 stadium was hushed, save for the thud of a Quaffle against leather and the faint rush of broom bristles through cooling air. Twilight draped the stands in long shadows, the last threads of sunlight slipping down behind the towers. The Slytherin team had already trudged back to the castle, their laughter fading into stone corridors, but Valentine Black lingered, circling the pitch in stubborn arcs.

She pressed forward, jaw set, each pass through the hoops a dare against her own fatigue. Her lungs burned, her arms ached, her palms stung where the Quaffle bit into skin. But she wasn’t done yet. Not when she was still the newest Chaser on the roster. Not when every clean shot was proof she belonged, not a fluke, not a replacement waiting to be cut loose.

The silence pressed in, so thick she could almost hear the ghost of the crowd—roars, jeers, the phantom echo of what it might be like to matter. She chased that echo the way she chased the hoops, sharp dives and narrow throws carving determination into the dusk.

A clean arc, a sharp snap through the center hoop. Val exhaled, pushing sweaty strands of hair from her cheek, already angling for another run.

“Merlin’s pants, you Slytherins really don’t know when to quit.”

The voice cut through the quiet like a stone through glass, rich with amusement, too loud for the settling dark. Val didn’t need to look; only one person bled confidence that thickly into every syllable.

Her grip tightened on the Quaffle. She threw anyway, deliberately ignoring him. The ball smacked through another hoop, defiance echoing in the hollow clang.

“Say something interesting,” she shot back, dry, “or shut up. Please and thank you.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him swagger closer, broom tucked lazily beneath one arm, the last streaks of sunset catching in his hair. Jake Jenkins, grinning like he owned the whole bloody pitch.

“Wow. So polite of you, Black,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Been practicing your manners? Or saving that sharp tongue just for me?”

Val’s lips twitched before she crushed it flat, keeping her eyes on the hoops, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a smile. His voice still vibrated in her ears though, annoyingly warm, like it could take root there if she wasn’t careful.

Jake lingered at the edge of the pitch, his smirk widening with each perfect throw she refused to let him interrupt. When at last she slowed, sweat cooling against her skin, he tilted his head and called out, voice dripping with mischief.

“May I fancy you with a scary story?”

Val raised a brow, Quaffle balanced in her grip. “How scary?”

Jake’s grin sharpened.

“Scary enough you might start disliking humanity more than you already do.”

That earned him a pause. Against her will, her pulse skipped. She hovered a moment longer, then sighed and guided her broom down. Dust rose around her boots as she touched down, dropping the Quaffle with a dull thud.

“You’ve got my attention, Jenkins.”

“Of course I do.” He sprawled across the grass like the pitch belonged to him, eyes glinting with that infuriating sparkle of challenge.

Val leaned back onto her hands, stretching her legs across the grass. The night air cooled her skin, tugging away the heat of training.

For once, Jake didn’t immediately fill the silence with noise. He tipped his head skyward, letting the moonlight slide across his face. The smirk never fully left his mouth, but something in his expression sharpened: still, deliberate, almost ritual.

“You’re really setting the mood for this, huh?” Val muttered.

His grin curled slowly. “That’s the point, Black. A good story’s got to crawl under your skin first.”

And then his voice dropped, threading smooth through the chilly night air.

“Let me tell you,” he said, “the tale of a boy who borrowed someone else’s life, and wore it so well, no one remembered the face he buried to get it.”

The words seemed to thicken the air. Val’s fingers curled unconsciously into the grass.

“Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived underground. Not in comfort, not in secret, but in chains of soot and hunger. A miner’s son. The dark was his cradle, the earth his tomb. His nails split before he could write, his lungs filled with black dust before they could fill with laughter. His parents didn’t look at him, not really. To them, he was another tool. A shovel with bones.”

Val’s throat tightened. She imagined the reek of smoke, grit grating down her throat, the press of darkness so total it could smother thought itself.

“One night, the mine screamed. The timbers snapped like bones, and fire poured down like rain. The ground opened its mouth and swallowed everything. His sister’s cry. His mother’s face. His father’s silence. All of it smothered in ash, smothered in smoke. And the boy crawled out, blistered and choking, reborn in flame and ruin.”

Jake’s smile twisted, too sharp.

“But the world above didn’t care for ghosts. He wandered the streets with coal still in his hair, and the city did what cities do—it chewed him up. A rat among boots. A shadow that stole crusts from bins and coins from pockets. He learned fast that hunger is louder than pride, and sharper than fear. Still, hunger doesn’t stay quiet long.”

Val could almost smell it: sour rot of bins, piss-slick stone, the copper tang of blood where teeth gnawed skin. She swallowed, hard.

“So one night, the boy was caught. Cornered in an alley, piss and rot thick in the air. A knife pressed against his throat. The man wanted blood. Wanted to see a rat bleed out on the cobblestones. And then—” Jake’s hand flicked through the air like smoke escaping fingers, “—the boy slipped free. Vanished. A miracle, they called it. A curse, more like. He walked away untouched, and from then on, they whispered of the Lucky Boy. But luck, Black…” his grin curved razor-sharp, “…luck always comes with teeth.”

The pitch was deathly quiet now. Even the breeze stilled, grass bending as if to listen.

“And sure enough, luck drew the eye of a man too rich to starve and too broken to live. A man with coffers overflowing but no heirs left to bear his name. A man who saw in the boy a blank slate. A vessel. A mask.”

Jake’s voice slowed, reverent, like a priest uttering a curse.

“So the boy shed his skin. Washed the soot from his hands until the water ran black and red. He practiced a new smile in broken mirrors until it fit his face like a blade in a sheath. He learned to laugh at the right moments, to talk like he belonged in parlors and not in pits. He became what they needed him to be. And soon, no one remembered the rat. No one remembered the screams in the mine. No one remembered the boy at all.”

Val’s stomach churned. Her nails dug crescents into her palms, grounding herself in the cold grass. A shiver threatened to climb her spine, but she refused to give him that victory.

“They only remembered the mask. And somewhere, beneath all that polish and shine, the boy waited. Still waiting. Still clawing at the inside of that skin, trying to get out. And if you listen closely—” Jake tilted his head, voice dipping to a whisper that crawled between heartbeats, “—you can hear his fingernails scratching against the bone. Wondering if the mask will crack… or rot with him inside.”

Silence.

It stretched long, heavy, pressing on her ribs until she could hear her own heartbeat too loud in her ears. The moon had climbed higher, spilling cold silver across the grass, hollowing Jake’s grin into something wolfish.

Val sat very still, heart drumming against her ribs. Her palms pressed into the damp grass, grounding her, as though movement might break the fragile line between story and truth.

“Do you always tell stories like you lived them?” she asked at last, voice steady but low.

Jake tilted his head, moonlight cutting his grin into something smug and dangerous.

“I’m just that good.”

“Or just that insane.”

Before he could retort, a familiar voice cut through the night.

“Oi, Jenkins! What’s got you out here, practicing your brooding face?”

Finn Moran strode out of the shadows, broad-shouldered, gait loose as if he owned the night. Beside him, Ellie Crawford kept pace, her scuffed boots crunching over the grass. She shot him a warning glare sharp enough to slice through the dark, as if daring him to charge headlong into trouble anyway. Arms folded, chin tilted, she radiated that quiet defiance only she could pull off.

Jake didn’t flinch. If anything, his grin sharpened, like he’d been waiting for this.

“We were sharing a ghost story,” he said, eyes flicking to Finn with something heavier than the words themselves.

Finn slowed, his expression flickering for just a heartbeat; something sharp and knowing flashing through before his usual mischief slammed back into place.

“A ghost story?” he echoed, throwing his arms wide with mock horror. “Merlin’s beard, Jake, you’re scaring the poor girl.”

Val scoffed, tossing the Quaffle into the air and catching it with a snap. “Please. I’ve heard scarier sounds coming from the Slytherin lavatories.”

Ellie snorted. “Not a high bar, Val.”

Finn laughed too loud, too easy.

But Jake leaned back into the grass, eyes never leaving Finn’s. In the silver wash of moonlight, the glance they shared said more than words ever could.

Because only the two of them knew—sometimes the scariest ghosts are the ones still wearing a heartbeat, clinging like smoke in your lungs until every breath feels borrowed.

And in the hush that followed, Val couldn’t shake the feeling that the Quaffle lying forgotten in the shadow of the hoop wasn’t the only thing abandoned on this pitch tonight.

[additional notes:]

🔥 thank you so much for reading! i hope you got the chills! 😏😆❤️‍🔥

🔥 non-native english speaker here, so advance pardon for the errors 🙇🏻‍♀️

🔥 i'm adding links to the mentioned ocs above, just in case you want more info! (Jake, Val, Finn, Ellie)

🔥 shout out to my platonic wife @accio-bagel for letting me include her beautiful children! (Finn ♥️ and Ellie 💚)