#hufflepuff!reader

⸻

You wore flowers like armor. Always. In your hair—violets carefully tucked into your braid, a daisy behind your ear, sprigs of baby's breath pinned like secrets. Your jumpers often had tiny embroidered petals curling down the sleeves or buttons shaped like blooming buds. When people asked, you just smiled like the flowers had chosen you that morning and not the other way around. Flowers were a part of you, just like freckles were a part of others.

“Is there a reason you always dress like a sentient meadow?” Draco asked once, squinting as you buttoned up a coat stitched with little yellow marigolds that seemed to flutter when you moved.

“It’s for luck,” you said serenely, smoothing a daffodil-shaped pin at your collar. “And it makes the plants feel at home.”

He stared like you’d just offered him a slice of moonlight for breakfast. “You think the plants care what you’re wearing?”

You tilted your head, genuinely perplexed. “You don’t?”

The first incident came swiftly. You’d barely begun working together when he attempted to nudge a Puffapod into blooming. One gentle poke was all it needed—delicate, respectful. Draco prodded it like it owed him an explanation, and it exploded in a soft-pink mushroom cloud of pollen.

You stood in stunned silence, covered in fuzz, bits of petal clinging to your braid like confetti. You tried not to pout. You really did. But you ended up cross-legged on the floor, mournfully collecting the petals and whispering soft apologies.

“She just needed patience,” you murmured, fingers brushing the frayed bloom. “A bit of kindness.”

Draco sneezed and looked utterly unconvinced. “It was a plant. Not a therapy client.”

“She had a name,” you said sharply, shooting him a glare. “Lulu.”

He gave you a flat look. “You named the Puffapod?”

You met his gaze with unflinching sincerity. “I would've told you her name if you didn't blow up her sister Lala earlier this year.

He sighed. "yeah... because plants have siblings."

The next week, he crushed a Bubotuber in a moment of casual irritation. One second he was ranting about someone stealing his socks, the next he squeezed the bulb like it had personally offended him. It responded by erupting in a burst of thick, greenish goo. Draco’s shriek of horror echoed off the greenhouse walls.

“You strangled her,” you said disappointed, trying not to frown as you dabbed away goo with a Moondew sprig.

“I barely touched it!”

“You manhandled her like she owed you money.”

“It attacked me!”

“She was terrified.”

He stumbled back, covered in yellow-green sludge. “Of what? My refined bone structure?”

You crouched next to the limp plant, wand raised, murmuring a soft charm. “Of being misunderstood. She’s very shy.”

Draco groaned. “Merlin help me. Not again.”

“She has a name,” you said firmly. “Matilda.”

“Of course she does.”

With a flick of your wand and a quiet word, Matilda shivered back to life, wiggling slightly in your palm. You leaned in and whispered something that made her glow faintly. She’d forgiven him. Barely.

“She’s a menace,” he muttered.

“She’s sensitive,” you corrected, stroking her stem.

Draco stared at you like he was trying to decide if this was some elaborate Hufflepuff prank. You smiled serenely and tucked a fallen blossom behind your ear.

By the fourth week, Draco had managed to offend a Flutterfern, enrage a Shrivelfig, and traumatize a Fanged Geranium into permanent wilt. The final straw came when he took pruning shears to a Venomous Tentacula like he was avenging a personal vendetta. It lashed out in protest, its tendrils flailing before curling in on themselves, whimpering.

You didn’t speak to him for the next twenty minutes.

Instead, you crouched beside the wounded plant, gently gathering its injured tendrils in your hands. You rocked slightly, whispering something ancient and low—more lullaby than incantation. Slowly, the Tentacula calmed. Its color returned in hesitant pulses. One vine curled around your wrist, tentative and grateful.

“You’ve got to be doing this on purpose,” Draco muttered from the other side of the greenhouse. “No one’s that bad at plants unless they’re cursed. Or a Gryffindor.”

You glanced up, your voice dry. “You think I’d hex my own greenhouse just to make you look bad?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “With great pleasure.”

You dusted soil from your cheek with a dramatic flourish. “I’m petty, Malfoy. Not suicidal.”

He eyed you, then your boots. “You’ve got roses on your socks.”

“They’re embroidered,” you replied, lifting your foot slightly to show him. “Climbing roses. Very resilient. A bit clingy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like you?”

You grinned. “Like you.”

His ears turned pink.

The sixth time was different. He didn’t kill the plant. He merely terrified it.

A small Mandrake sat trembling on its roots while Draco hovered uncertainly nearby, brow furrowed, tongue between his teeth in sheer concentration, wondering how the hell did you manage to stop a mandrake from crying. You watched from a few feet away, arms crossed, trying not to interfere.

“If you’re going to loom like that,” Draco muttered, glancing sideways, “you might as well do it yourself.”

“I’m observing,” you said proudly. “You’re improving. That Mandrake hasn’t flinched in at least two minutes.”

“It keeps looking at me.”

“you mean, He. Well, duh he has eyes. Of course he's looking at you.”

“Judgmentally.”

“That’s a compliment,” you said. “He doesn’t usually acknowledge people he dislikes.”

Draco scowled, but the Mandrake remained intact. Which, for him, was practically a miracle. When he wasn’t looking, you snuck the plant a leaf treat. It quivered happily.

Later that afternoon, while you adjusted the angle of a sunlamp for your Asphodel, you sensed Draco stepping beside you. He didn’t say anything at first, just hovered—an odd, uncertain weight in the air. Then his voice came, softer than usual.

“You missed a spot.”

You turned, confused, just as he reached out. His thumb brushed a smudge of soil from your cheek, lingering a second too long. You froze.

The world narrowed. You forgot the cold, the damp, the faint buzzing of Pixie-flies overhead. For one suspended breath, it was just you, him, and the inch of air between your faces.

He cleared his throat abruptly and pulled his hand back. “You had… dirt. On your face.”

“Oh.” You touched the spot instinctively. “Thanks.”

He turned away, cheeks faintly pink. You didn’t say anything. Your heart was too loud.

⸻

All term, you’d been tending to a single Moonlily in the corner of Greenhouse Three. Once silver-bright, it had withered into something curled and gray, like it had forgotten what light felt like. Every class, you brought it a fresh blossom, whispered to it like an old friend. “I’m still here,” you told it. “Come back when you’re ready.”

Draco never asked about it. But he noticed. You caught him glancing at it when he thought you weren’t looking. Watching the way you cared.

And then came the last day of term.

Most students had left for the holidays. Snow pressed against the greenhouse windows, and frost dusted the vines in glittering white. You were alone, brushing a light dusting of ice from the soil, when you heard the sound of footsteps.

Draco.

He looked a little windblown, hair tousled, scarf half-untied. In one gloved hand, he held something fragile. Small. Pale.

A pot with a single marigold.

Its stem was crooked. Its petals trembled. But it was alive.

“I, uh… Professor Sprout helped,” he said quickly, almost defensive. “A bit. Mostly she just stopped me from killing it.”

You stared, lips parting. He shifted, awkward.

“It’s not perfect,” he said.

You reached out and took it gently, your fingers brushing his. The flower quivered in your palm like it knew who had grown it.

“It’s exquisite.” you whispered.

His shoulders sagged, some tightness easing in his jaw. “I... It reminded me of you. It's bright and... pretty. Very, pretty.”

You stepped closer.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice thick with something you didn’t dare name. “I love it.”

And then, without thinking, you kissed him.

It was soft, tentative—dirt-smudged noses, cold fingers brushing warm cheeks, and the quiet, sweet hush of something just beginning. He tasted of peppermint tea and the kind of wonder that comes only after you’ve stopped pretending not to care.

Behind you, something stirred.

You turned as the Moonlily—the one you’d nurtured all term—gave a shiver, then slowly unfurled. Its silver petals caught the moonlight and glowed like a promise, blooming with the kind of gentle pride only magic, patience, and love can grow.

Draco stared, wide-eyed. “Was that... because of us?”

You clutched the flower he'd given you to your chest, heart fluttering. “She’s been waiting. I think... she felt it.”

He looked at you, the usual edge in his voice softened into awe. “You’re completely mad.”

You grinned, breathless. “You still think the plants don’t notice?”

And then, for the first time all term, Draco Malfoy laughed—really laughed. It spilled into the greenhouse like sunlight after rain, warm and unexpected.

“Fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Maybe they do.”

You reached up and tucked the crooked little flower he’d grown into your braid, letting it nestle behind your ear like it had always belonged there.

“Then they’ve clearly been paying more attention than you have.”

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

It had only been a few days since Monika gave you her advice. True to what she said, doing nothing turned out to be the best thing you could have done. While people were still talking about it, mostly those from Hufflepuff or the ones who already knew you, it wasn’t nearly as widespread as before. With all the other drama that had cropped up in the days that followed, the rumor slowly lost its popularity.

You still got teased about it occasionally, but not reacting to their comments bored them quickly. Eventually, they stopped caring altogether.

Living your life at Hogwarts had started slowly slipping back into your old routine.

A few more days passed, everything had gone back again in the way they always did. You attended your classes, took notes like you always had, and complained to your friends about work that just seemed to double. The professors would discuss new things at the front of classrooms, parchment piled up on your desk, and your days settled back into place like it had never been disturbed by some stupid gossip.

If you were being honest, you almost forgot about everything.

It was actually quite easy to have everything fall back into place, how the embarrassment could just fade into the background if you ignored it, becoming nothing more than an unpleasant memory you tried not to think about too much.

By the time dinner rolled around a few nights later, you were seated at the Hufflepuff table with Monika and Koby like always. With your plates in front of you, talking about anything as always, while hearing everyone else mind their business at the Great Hall.

You were halfway through your meal when Monika suddenly cleared her throat.

“So,” she started, looking everywhere but at you.

You glanced up, already suspicious. “So…?”

She smiled, eyes lighting up as she leaned closer. “I almost forgot to tell you lot. My parents are hosting a Christmas holiday party this year.”

Koby raised a brow, finally looking at her directly. You did the same, curiosity creeping in despite yourself. This is the first time Monika had brought up her family herself, you remembered back then when you mentioned visiting during the summers how she’d always dismiss your words. You just thought she didn’t like having people around, so you stopped asking.

“And,” Monika continued, words tumbling out faster now, “I was thinking maybe you and Koby would want to come?”

Your eyes widened. “Come? To your home??”

“Well… yeah. For the holidays,” she said quickly, then hesitated. “I mean, I know you’re both purebloods and you probably don’t really… do Muggle stuff… and I know my family isn’t exactly,” she gestured vaguely with her hands, “up there when it comes to bloodlines or whatever, so if you don’t want to, it’s completely fine! I just… thought I’d ask.”

Before she could talk any further, Koby cuts in. “Monika,” he said simply. “It’s fine.”

She looked at him, surprised. You nodded immediately, setting your fork down. Before adding “Yeah, what ‘pureblood customs’ are you even blabbing about?” You added, teasingly.

Her eyes widened slightly, then softened when she noticed how sincere you both are looking at her.

“If I’m being honest,” you continued, “I’m actually excited! It sounds fun, you know? My family has only ever hosted dinners with other purebloods, so you end up seeing the same people you’ve known since you were a kid.”

Whatever you said must have comforted her, because Monika let out a breath she had clearly been holding, a smile spreading across her face.

“Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed. “Though I just need to send my parents a letter first. Give them a heads up.” You then turned to Koby. “Do you want to come with me to the owlery later?”

He paused mid-bite, thinking it through before shaking his head apologetically. “Can’t. I’ve got other commitments tonight.”

You shrugged, unfazed. “Alright. Guess I better not go too late, then.”

After that, the three of you fell back into eating, Monika quickly launching into an excited ramble about what Christmas was like at her place. She talked about decorations, food, funny stories, and traditions you had never experienced before, hands moving everywhere as she spoke.

You listened quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips, laughing softly whenever she cracked a joke.

Everything felt easy again, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

It was already late by the time you left the owlery.

The castle was definitely quieter now, corridors dimly lit as torches flickered along the stone walls. You kept your steps light, hoping not to run into anyone as you made your way back to the Hufflepuff dormitory. The last thing you needed was to be caught wandering around at this hour, especially by a prefect.

Or worse… the head boy and head girl.

You turned a corner, letting out a small breath of relief when the corridor ahead looked empty. Walking quietly, you suddenly hear a noise which causes you to slow down. Frowning slightly as you paused mid-step, It sounded like someone mumbling, followed by a soft thud. Your gaze flicked toward the storage closet near the wall to your left. You stood there for a moment, trying to listen more clearly.

It was just silence… maybe you imagined it?

You glanced around, half-expecting someone to jump out, but the corridor remained still empty. Just as you were about to move on, another sound came from inside the closet followed by a muffled clatter. This causes your brows to knit together.

Okay... you were definitely not imagining this!

Curiosity got the better of you as you took a cautious step toward the closet, lifting your hand slightly as if to reach for the door. But before you could, it creaked open on its own. You moved quickly, stepping to the side just as the door swung wider, hiding yourself behind it as someone stepped out.

You peeked around the edge to see the person who opened it before you could, completely shocked from who you saw.

“Black?”

Sirius Black startled slightly, turning toward the sound of your voice. He squinted in the dim light, clearly trying to make you out.

“Oh,” he said. “Hufflepuff girl.”

He cleared his throat, a little too quickly, just as you were sure you heard something else inside the closet. You ignored it, rolling your eyes.

“I have a name, you know.” You said flatly.

He shrugged, and ignored you rolling your eyes. “I’m sure you do.” Then, cutting you off before you could retort, he asked, “What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”

You stared at him, momentarily distracted. “Uhh… I was at the owlery,” you replied. “I was just heading back.”

But then you tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing. “What about you?” you asked, emphasizing the word. “What are you doing here?”

Sirius glanced back at the closet, looking at something or someone. You followed his look, then stared at him pointedly. You both knew he definitely was not casting spells in a storage closet.

Before he could answer, you heard another sound.

Footsteps.

Your attention snapped back to the corridor just as he grabbed your arm, also hearing the sound. You barely had time to react before he pulled you inside, closing the door quietly behind the two of you. He pressed a finger to his lips, silently shushing you as he leaned closer to the door, listening. Your heart pounded as you looked around, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. All the shapes inside slowly came into view, before you saw a figure on the other side.

Your breath then hitched at realizing who the person was.

“Koby?” you whispered, disbelief lacing your voice. 

Koby stared back at you, eyes just as wide as yours in the dim light before blurting out your name as well. His gaze flicked between you and Sirius, taking in the situation, the cramped space, the closed door. His expression changed immediately, panic flashing across his face.

“This is not what it looks like,” he said quickly.

You just looked at him, also taking in everything. Then the words slipped out before you could stop yourself in a shocked whisper. “You’re hooking up with Black?!”

Koby reached out to you, hands flailing as he tried to shush you, nearly knocking your shoulder in the process. “No, no, stop, don’t say it like that!”

This causes Sirius' eyes to widen slightly, before he smirks toward Koby. “We’re hooking up now?” he said lazily. “Can’t blame you, Palladio. But you’re not my type.”

You shot him a look, before turning to Koby again. Koby ignored him entirely, turning back to you with a distressed expression. “It’s not like that, Merlin…” He whispered harshly. “Black just wanted to talk, and I said sure.”

He paused, then glared at Sirius. “Then he said he wanted to meet at midnight. In a storage closet.”

Your brows lifted slowly.

“I told him it would look like we were doing something else,” Koby continued, clearly annoyed now. “But he insisted, and said it was really important.” His voice dripped with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes.

“And for the record,” he added, crossing his arms, “have some respect for me. I have better standards.”

Sirius scoffed quietly before turning back toward the door, listening as the footsteps drew nearer. All three of you went silent, focusing on the sound as it stopped right in front of the closet. You held your breath, eyes flicking to Black, who stood directly in front of you with his mouth pressed tightly shut. Then you glanced at Koby, who looked just as frozen, lips sealed as the three of you tried to stay as quiet as possible.

After a moment, the footsteps moved again, turning down another corridor and slowly fading farther and farther away from the storage closet.

A few seconds passed, then Black reached for the door.

You grabbed his arm immediately. “What are you doing?” you whispered sharply. “Do you want to get caught?”

He looked down at you, eyes glinting with amusement, before smirking. “I’m friends with a prefect and the head boy,” he said quietly. “Don’t really have anything to be afraid of,” 

Before you could stop him, Sirius slipped out of the closet and took off down the corridor, disappearing in the direction of the Gryffindor dormitory. You stared at the closed door in disbelief for a moment before slowly turning to Koby.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “We should head back,” he said. “It’s already way past curfew.”

You nodded, then hesitated. “By the way… what did Black want with you?”

Koby shrugged as he stepped closer to the door. “Didn’t really get anywhere worth knowing about.”

You narrowed your eyes at this, hesitant before asking. “Is this… the prior commitment you were talking about earlier?”

He paused, then nodded. “...Yeah.”

There was something in his tone that made you doubt he was being completely honest. Koby sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look… I can’t tell you much ‘cause he was being really cryptic. He kept going on about something that happened at the dormitory party. But I barely could understand what he was trying to tell me.”

“And?”

“Like I just said, I couldn’t understand what he was getting at,” Koby continued. “Before he could actually explain, he stopped talking… then he opened the door.” He gestured vaguely toward where you were standing earlier.

You stared at him, eyes widening slightly. “The dormitory party?” you whispered. “Don’t tell me… was he supposed to ask about that gossip from a few weeks back?”

Koby let out another sigh, shrugging again. “I don’t know. He was being weird about it… So, probably?”

“Probably?” you echoed, incredulous.

“Ehh… maybe?” he replied.

“Maybe?” you repeated, now louder but still in a whispered voice.

Koby immediately shushed you, eyes darting toward the door. “We’re still in a storage closet, you dummy!” 

This causes you to clamp your mouth shut.

“Wish I could tell you more but I really don’t know,” he said more firmly. “Let’s just head back already. We can talk about this more tomorrow.”

You look at him before nodding slowly, with a slight unease settled in your chest.

—

Because of what happened last night, you had barely slept at all. Every time you closed your eyes, your mind replayed what had happened in the storage closet. Black, Koby, then Koby’s words about Black asking about the dormitory party. By morning, you woke up already tense, shoulders stiff as if you had never truly rested.

Yeah, paranoid might have been the right word for it.

With a bit of free time before your next class, you decided not to stay back at the dorm. Instead, you wandered toward the courtyard, hoping the cold air and open space would clear your head.

Most of your friends were all in class, which meant you would be alone with your thoughts. As you walked through the stone archway leading outside, you noticed a small group of students scattered around the courtyard. From a distance, you could already make out the colors of their robes. 

Black, red, and a bit of yellow mixed in… oh, they were mostly Gryffindors.

You slowed slightly but kept walking, eyes down as you passed by. Before you could fully realize who they were, a loud voice cut through the air.

“Hey, Peeper! Is that you?!”

The voice causes you to freeze. Was he calling you?

Also… Peeper?

Confused, you lifted your head just in time to recognize who it was.

Sitting just at the branch of the huge tree is none other than Sirius Black. And of course, he was with his flock of friends that were all sitting under the tree.

Wait… his usual friends? 

As a flicker of panic shot through you, you had accidentally made eye contact with none other than James Potter. He had been looking at Sirius first, clearly listening in on something, before his gaze trailed toward the person he was calling. The moment he realized it was you, his eyes widened just slightly before he looked away almost immediately.

Not obviously, but enough for you to notice. You could make out his jaw tightened, attention suddenly fixed on literally anywhere else, and is it just you or were his ears turning red?

Shit!

Has he heard the rumors now? Well, it has been a few days already but you thought that you could already put this all behind you!

No!

No!!

NO!!

Before you could try and play that you didn’t notice Black at all, he called out to you again louder. “Peepers! Over here! Yoohoo!!”

You noticed a few heads had already turned in your and his direction. Heat rushed to your neck as you realized ignoring him was no longer an option. Is he seriously making a scene all because you’re pretending to not notice him?!

Muttering under your breath, you hurried over to them.

Getting up close to the four of them was… awkward. Well, two of them were known for being calmer, so you didn’t mind their smiles as they greeted you. The other one, the one wearing glasses who was very obviously looking everywhere but at you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, was not known for being quiet.

You reached the bottom of the tree, with Lupin standing closest to you. Black, who had been perched higher up, jumped down. The moment his feet hit the ground, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him closer.

“Black, are you mad?” You hissed. “You’re making a scene!”

He just laughed at your words before patting your head. You grabbed his arm again and yanked it down. “Stop it! And stop with that weird nickname too!”

Black tilted his head, his grin widening. “What? Peeper?”

“Yes. That,” you snapped. “Where did you even get that?”

He shrugged. “Uh… because you were peeping into a storage closet at me and your friend. Duh.”

“I was not!” you hissed immediately, glancing around. “And also,” you added quickly, pointing a finger at his chest, “stop saying it like that, people will get the wrong idea! Koby is way too good and would never be involved with the likes of you.”

Sirius placed a hand over his chest dramatically. “Fair point… not why I called you though.” Then he leaned in slightly, brows wiggling as his grin turned mischievous. “I’ve been hearing a certain friend of mine has got himself a girlfriend.” he says teasingly.

You felt your stomach drop at this, already knowing that they’d eventually confront you but not like this!

“Listen,” you said quickly, lowering your voice. “I know what it sounds like, but I can explain—”

Sirius cut you off with a shrug. “Hey, it’s fine. Honestly… the whole you-being-his-girlfriend thing was a bit exaggerated.” He smirked. “Prongs doesn’t like rushing stuff.”

You thought he was done before he then continues,  “Though,” Sirius continued, clearly enjoying himself, “you’re a smart lass. Prongs here actually have this thing with being called—AH!”

Before he got to saying it an arm suddenly looped around his neck, pulling him into a headlock.

“Shut it,” Potter mutters, his voice is quiet but you could hear how serious he is.

Sirius burst out laughing, clearly unbothered as he tried to pry Potter’s arm away. “Ohhh, what’s this?” he teased. “You trying to impress your girl or something?”

“Pads, I’m serious!” James snapped, tightening his grip.

The two of them started wrestling, stumbling around as Sirius laughed loudly and James tried to silence him, both of them drawing far too much attention from everyone now. Well… when have they never drawn attention? You were just unlucky that you were somehow involved in all of this. Stepping back instinctively, you’re doing your best not to get dragged into their tumbling.

“I’ve never seen you this serious before,” Sirius managed to say between laughs. “What, pretty girl making you nervous?”

James only tackled him harder, the two of them nearly toppling over. Lupin sighed and moved in, trying to separate them. “Merlin, you two—watch it!” he said, attempting to wedge himself between them while also trying not to get punched in the face.

Pettigrew shuffled over to you, glancing nervously at the scene. “Uh… sorry ‘bout this but you can leave now if you want,” he said quietly. “When they start wrestling, it usually takes a while.”

You looked at him, then back at the other boys. Now it was not just the two of them anymore. Lupin, who had been trying to break them apart, had somehow gotten dragged into it as well. That alone made you nod slowly at Pettigrew’s words. You murmured a quiet thank you, still unsure how you were even supposed to react to what had just happened.

While it was true that Potter had most likely heard the gossip about you calling him your “baby boy,” the way this confrontation unfolded was nothing like what you had imagined.

“Hey, Hufflepuff. You really think I’d get involved with someone like you? Bit too brave for someone in your house, no?” Potter sneers, while his friends all laugh at his words.

You could almost hear it so clearly in your head. You imagined yourself frozen in place, scared, tears threatening to spill as you struggled to explain yourself. Desperate to clear the misunderstanding without him thinking you were lying.

But instead of that, you got Potter being quiet. Barely speaking actually and barely making eye contact with you, while his friend casually reveals how you went and made up gossip behind their backs. 

Well… technically, you didn’t make the gossip, but you were still involved.

So if he had reacted the way you first imagined, you wouldn’t really see anything wrong with it. It would have made sense, really.

Hmm… maybe you had the wrong impression of him.

—

Flashback

James was the type to drink at parties, but he wasn’t really feeling it tonight, so he decided to stay sober. Who would have thought that the first time he didn’t drink, he would end up falling asleep on the stairs instead.

When he woke up groggily, he barely recognized where he was at first. It took a moment before it hit him that he was at a party.

Which House was this again?

He stood up, already knowing it had to be past curfew. Even the portraits would have probably been asleep, if they were the type to sleep. As he wandered around, trying to look for his friends, he noticed someone sleeping on one of the couches.

You were slumped awkwardly to one side, like you had meant to stand up but failed and simply fell asleep instead. Your head was tilted forward, hair falling into your face, your hands limp in your lap.

Yeah, you were definitely asleep.

James slowed, frowning slightly. He couldn’t see anyone else around, but he hesitated, half-wanting to ask which dormitory he was actually in. He knelt down on one knee to steady himself, then cleared his throat.

“Uh… hey,” he said quietly, stepping closer and gently shaking your shoulder. “Excuse me, have you seen Padfoot?”

When you didn’t even stir, he tried again, a bit firmer this time. “Hey. Lady, wake up.”

That was when you started to move. Your head lifted slowly, eyes fluttering open just enough to focus on him. For a split second, James thought you were finally awake. Then, out of nowhere, you reached out. Your fingers brushed through his hair, slow and clumsy, like you were trying to make sure he was real.

“Prongs?” you murmured.

James froze at the sound of his name. So you knew him, that meant you probably knew his friends too.

“…Hmm?” he hummed instinctively, more out of curiosity than anything else. He was skeptical that a Hufflepuff girl he barely knew had just called him Prongs, but he figured you must have known his nickname, like everyone at Hogwarts did.

You smiled faintly, eyes still half-lidded.

“Oh,” you sighed dreamily. “I missed you.”

James immediately grew more confused. “Missed… me?”

“How are you, baby?” you continued, words slurring together as your hand tangled further into his hair. You poked at it, fingers brushing through his curls like you were examining something familiar. “You got so much softer than I remembered.”

He stiffened at your words, his heart starting to pound at the way you were touching his hair. He tried to take your hand away gently. “Uh— thanks? You know where—”

But despite his efforts, you didn’t let go. Instead, you touched him more intimately, your fingertips trailing over his temple and then his cheek. You frowned thoughtfully, your thumb brushing over his skin.

“Huh,” you murmured. “It’s been so long I don’t even recognize you. I don’t remember you having such smooth, bare skin.”

James’ brain felt like it was melting. He was confused, yet at the same time, painfully aware of how much he was enjoying your soft hands on his face.

Was he missing something? Had he done something stupid he didn’t remember? Were you a past fling? A family friend?

A hundred thoughts raced through his head all at once, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he actually knew who you were.

Or maybe… was this some elaborate prank?

Before he could decide, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. He sucked in a sharp breath.

“Oi—!”

But when he looked at you to confront you, your grip had already loosened. Your head tipped forward, resting against his chest for half a second before slipping away entirely and back onto the couch.

You were fully asleep again.

“…Hey,” he whispered, stunned. “Hey. Lady!”

He shook your shoulder gently, then a bit more urgently. “Lady. Hufflepuff girl. Wake up.”

You didn’t even budge, while James just kneeled there staring at you in disbelief. His heart was racing now, his hair thoroughly messed up from the way you had ruffled it, with no idea what had just happened.

Mattheo had noticed it first. The way you had been acting… odd lately. You were sneaking around more than usual, disappearing at random times, whispering hurried excuses when he asked where you were going.

But the strangest thing?

The raw meat.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. But then he saw it with his own eyes-you, stuffing a bundle of what was definitely raw chicken into your bag at dinner.

And the other day? He caught you swiping a few sausages off Theo’s plate and tucking them into your robes when you thought no one was looking.

The hell was that about?

And it wasn’t just him noticing anymore.

“Alright,” Blaise drawled, lounging on the Slytherin common room couch. “I’m saying it now-your girlfriend is hiding something.”

Theo nodded in agreement. “She’s been acting shady as hell.”

“She literally took my steak at dinner last night,” Draco grumbled. “Just snatched it up and said she’d ‘make good use of it.’ What does that even mean?”

Mattheo ran a hand through his curls, sighing. “I know, alright? I’ve been trying to figure it out.”

“Well,” Enzo smirked. “Why don’t we just ask her?”

So they did.

-

You barely had time to get through the Hufflepuff common room entrance before Mattheo and the Slytherin boys cornered you.

“Alright, sunshine,” Mattheo drawled, arms crossed. “Talk.”

You blinked up at them, trying to look innocent. “Talk about what?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Theo said, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve been sneaking around, stealing food, whispering weird excuses-”

“And hoarding raw meat,” Draco added. “Like some kind of deranged goblin.”

Your eyes widened. “I-what?! I have not-”

“Oh, you absolutely have,” Mattheo cut in, stepping closer. “So what’s going on, angel?”

You hesitated, glancing between them, before sighing dramatically. “You guys can’t be mad.”

“Oh, that is not a good start,” Enzo muttered.

“I mean it!” you insisted. “Promise me you won’t get mad!”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes. “We’ll see.”

With a sigh, you grabbed Mattheo’s hand. “Fine. But you have to swear not to freak out.”

The boys exchanged glances but nodded.

And then you led them upstairs.

-

Sneaking the Slytherin boys into the Hufflepuff dorms was a feat, but you managed. And once inside your room, you turned to them and whispered, “Okay, um… don’t scream.”

That was not reassuring.

But before they could ask questions, you tiptoed over to your wardrobe and slowly opened the doors.

And inside, curled up in a nest of blankets, was a baby dragon.

The boys stared.

The tiny creature was adorable-scales shimmering between gold and green, tiny wings tucked against its sides, its snout buried into a pillow. But as soon as it smelled the food in your bag, it lifted its head, blinked sleepy eyes, and let out a tiny, high-pitched chirp.

“…What the fuck,” Draco breathed.

Mattheo ran a hand down his face. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake.”

Theo looked thrilled. “IS THAT A DRAGON?!”

Blaise, was speechless.

You gave them all a sheepish smile. “Uh… surprise?”

Mattheo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sunshine. You’ve been raising a dragon in your dorm?”

You nodded. “His name is Snaggle!”

Draco choked. “You named it Snaggle?”

“Well, yeah,” you huffed. “Look at his little baby snaggle teeth!”

Mattheo groaned. “That’s what you’ve been sneaking raw meat for?”

You nodded, kneeling to scratch under Snaggle’s chin. The dragon made a happy little chirp, flapping his wings.

Theo was still in awe. “This is so cool.”

“This is insane,” Draco corrected.

Enzo finally spoke. “Okay, hold on-how the hell did you even get him?”

You winced. “Um… so, funny story… I may have… found him?”

“Found him?” Mattheo echoed.

You nodded. “There was this really sketchy-looking guy outside Hogsmeade, and he was selling dragon eggs, which is obviously illegal, but I couldn’t just let them be sold to, like, terrible people, so I bought one, and then it hatched, and now he imprinted on me, and I couldn’t just abandon him, and now he lives here.”

The boys just stared.

“You bought a dragon egg off a black market dealer?” Blaise said flatly.

“…Yes?”

Mattheo exhaled very slowly. “Sunshine.”

You gave him your best innocent smile. “Are you mad?”

He stared at you, looked at the dragon, then back at you.

Then he sighed. “Mad? No. Amazed at your sheer ability to get yourself into the most insane situations? Yes.”

Theo clapped his hands together. “Alright, well. No going back now. Guess we all have a pet dragon.”

Blaise snorted. “Oh yeah, because that won’t get us expelled.”

Mattheo shook his head, pulling you into his arms. “You are too much, angel.”

You giggled, leaning into his chest. “But you still love me?”

He sighed dramatically. “Yeah. I still love you.”

Snaggle let out a happy little chirp, and Theo immediately flopped down beside him. “This is the best thing ever.”

Draco groaned. “We’re all going to die.”

But, as Mattheo kissed the top of your head and watched you happily cuddle your forbidden pet dragon, he knew one thing for sure.

"Quit fretting, you'll tire yourself out before the tea's served," Cedric coos, cresting the top of the stairs and tugging you close behind. He whips around suddenly with a dashing bright smile on his gentle face.

"I know," you grumble, "just can't help but... wonder? It sounds silly, but what if Slughorn made a mistake—"

"You're right, it does sound silly, so I'll spare you the embarrassment of continuing." He turns you round, whisking you into a nook along the hall on the way to the office where the dinner is to be held.

You gaze at him in the dim winter light, fighting a shiver when his fingers brush an eyelash from your cheek.

"If we run, we'll make it back to the dormitories before anyone notices," you whisper. You're all butterflies at the suggestion, knowing he'll be disappointed. He's only ever wanted what was best for you. And since you accepted his romantic pursuits, you've become his full-time responsibility.

"Or we can walk into that room, enjoy quiet conversation, and then leave having earned social connections and a few more people who know I'm yours entirely."

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you.

"You're so," you groan, grabbing his waist and snarling, "good! Can't you misbehave or act miserably or even speak poorly of someone just once?"

Just then, his eyes catch the light. A fleeting flicker, really. A rogue candle flame in the playful glint of his gaze, but you catch it, and he leans closer, caging you against the wall.

"Depends on your idea of misbehaving," he whispers.

"I've a sneaky feeling you have your own ideas, Diggory."

His heart flutters at the temptation in your voice, in your warmth, in your hands curled into his waist. Like the first time he ever kissed you, he leans close again, a hitch in his breath when his lips finally meet yours in a spark. From there, it's all muscle memory and the tandem beat of your hearts. He stops his hands from slipping any lower down your pretty dress. The same one he zipped up the curve of your back not an hour ago.

What he'd give to misbehave like that. Here. In the face of responsibility and important arrangements. To misbehave for your sake, just because you begged. Asked, really, but he'd drop everything just the same if it was only a vague suggestion. If he could somehow read your mind, he'd bend to your every whim and you'd never have to utter a word.

In losing track of himself, he sighs. Right into the softness of your mouth because he knows you know how he likes your fingers twisted in his soft, chestnut hair. You do just that and grin when he grows noisy like you knew he would.

"Hello?" A curious, soprano voice calls from the stairwell.

"Shit," you hiss. You pull away when his resilience won't let him, the butt of your skull meeting the hard stone with a thud. "Ow."

"Are you hurt?" he whispers, ushering you further into the cranny and cradling your head in his palm. Your fingers hold his wrist and you chuckle at the sheen of his wet mouth in the firelight. He presses his sure palm to your lips to muffle the raucous sound. "Merlin's Beard, you've gone loopy. I'll heal you with a kiss!"

"Is someone there?" The voice whines again.

His lips only serve to make you cackle harder into the darkness, it's no help that he's grinning now, too. If that voice belongs to a ghoul or a vengeful spirit, they'll have to answer to your wrath before they're allowed to pass. Though, as of now, your wrath is characterized by a fit of giggles and sighs at the mercy of his mouth.

Footsteps clack down the hall, nearing your compromising position in the dark. The sound rings in your ears until you're forced to press him deeper into the nook, leaving yourself exposed to the soft light save for your arm, which he is lovingly latched to.

"Oh!" The girl warbles, taking a step back when she finally sees you. "It's you."

You recognize her as Ginny Weasley, you'd opposed her many times on the pitch. She looks fairly put together. Lovely, you suppose, not scowling or drenched in sweat the way most Quidditch games end. You're not so sure you have the same effect, dizzy and flustered as you are. Cedric's fingers squeeze yours from his place in the shadows.

"Yes, It's me!" you chirp, "Here I am!" It's like some spirit has possessed you. Some spirit under heavy influence of recreational drugs and endless confections maybe.

"Right," she says, nodding awkwardly and peering into the darkness behind you which traces his fingers over your knuckles and bows to kiss each one. You ought to smack the darkness upside the head for his thorough display of misbehavior. "We should probably go inside, or we'll be late."

"Oh, Merlin—must've lost track of time. I'll catch you inside, I just have something I need to..." you sigh, wiggling your hand out of his featherlight grip and perching it on your hip "I'll just be a minute."

"Alright. I'll let them know you're just...?"

"Getting fresh air!"

"Getting fresh air. Right," Ginny says, backing away towards the office door with a tight-lipped smile. Once the door bangs shut again, you draw Cedric into the light with a scowl to rival hellfire.

It makes his tummy turn with excitement. Makes him feel boyish and fresh and giddy. He can't decide whether he'd like to ravish you or let you ravish him. Either way, he's lucky like shiny pennies or rain on your wedding day. Which reminds him, but that's a story for another day. His soul is solidly and irrevocably tethered to yours whether you accept a metal band on your finger or not. Another day.

"Diggory!" you shout, and he catches your hand as it flies toward his shoulder. He's smiling, laughing at your expense. You think you ought to punish his awfully handsome face with some sort of kiss. An eye for an eye, as they say.

"Getting fresh air? Is that really the first thing that came to your mind?" he says through his laughter, drawing you in by the hips, “I think I should tell you now that the nearest window is at the complete opposite end of the hall!"

"If only I hadn't been distracted—"

But you're bested again by his large, warm hands spread across your lower back. And his smile tempting you. He could get anything he ever wanted with that kind of smile, drawn up at the corners and dimpling his rosy cheeks. Curse him and the tiny flakes of gold flowing through his bloodline.

"You were saying?"

"Nothing! We're late," you mutter, face hot and fingers tight as he's dragged across the way to the door. And as the heavy hinges squeal open, he thinks he'd like to misbehave for you more often so long as you'd string him along forever.

But the slight smirk in his voice as he spoke told you otherwise. “Funny. I was there for at least four hours. Four dreadful hours. But I didn’t see you once.”

You cleared your throat, trying to focus on your book. “That’s funny, because I saw you.”

Theseus’ grimaced as he walked inside, removing his tie and flopping down on the sofa across from you. “Oh, god, you didn’t see me trip whilst dancing with Professor Quinn, did you?”

You looked at him over the edge of your book. “Nice try but you would never dance with Professor Quinn.”

Rather than looking defeated, however, Theseus gave you a coy grin. “Touche.”

Settling back into your book, you were thankful it hid most of your face when Theseus continued his sentence. “But you should know I’m an excellent dancer and also a gentleman. A gentleman never refuses a lady’s request to dance.”

Theseus chuckled as he watched you pause mid-flip of your page. “Want to tell me why you’re hiding in here? I thought you were excited to go?”

It took you a moment, but eventually you sighed and closed your book. It wasn’t all that entertaining if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

Although there was a friendly mocking tone to his face as he looked at you, probably waiting for some story you found too embarrassing to talk about – an ugly coloured dress that should have been burned two centuries earlier, probably. 

But there was still a worried kindness in his eyes, because he knew you’d been excited to go. He’d seen you with your friends, planning outfits and dates, practicing dances, breaking in heels that you wished to wear. 

So why on earth, at the height of the night, were you sitting alone in the common room, reading?

“I was,” you confirmed. “But plans changed.”

Theseus’ eyes scanned over your expression. Something tugged at his gut; there wasn’t some laugh-about-it-later story held in the secret corners of your mind. Something had…changed. 

Carefully, he sat up. “What changed?”

You’d managed to hold up a wall all night. It helped you were alone after your friends left Ravenclaw tower. You’d been waiting for a date who never intended to show. 

“Theseus.”

He could see the tears in your eyes and the shake of your chest as you tried to hold the walls up. He moved in an instant, taking a seat beside you and hugging you tight. 

“It’s alright,” he said, softly. 

With your book in your lap, you hugged Theseus back and let out a few tears. 

“I waited for an hour,” you admitted. “I waited for him to show and then I thought, maybe, he’d forgotten. By the time I went downstairs, I’d planned to keep my head high but then I found out he never intended to show up. He’d invited someone else and I found them…in a rather compromising position behind the court-yard.”

“He’s a jerk, Y/n.” 

“I know,” you nodded, sitting back a little. 

One of Theseus’ hands rested against the back of the sofa as he sat beside you, whilst his other hand reached out and gently swiped the stray tears from your eyes. You tried to smile, but your feelings were still hurt. 

“I know,” you repeated. “My tears are wasted on him.”

“Very much so,” Theseus said. “You didn’t deserve that- you don’t. And nobody could ever forget you.”

Against the book in your lap, you held his hand. “Thank you, Theseus.”

He nodded, silently saying ‘you’re welcome’. But then he smiled as he lightly squeezed your hand. “I mean it.”

And then, after a quiet moment of your gaze locked onto his, he stood and held out his hand. “Come on, then.”

You chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Well, if you’d still like to go to the Yule Ball, I will accompany you.”

You stood. “That’s very kind of you, Theseus. But I think everyone is probably drunk off the spiked eggnog.”

He shrugged. “Then we shall have our own.”

“What are you-” You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him wave his wand around the room. 

The lights dimmed into candle flames, held in winter flowers that bloomed along the walls and ceilings. The warmth of the fire grew a little brighter as the ground beneath your feet transformed into a slightly harder surface than the mossy ground. 

After changing out of your Yule dress and back into your skirt and blouse, after you’d decided to try and hide away in the common room all evening, you’d failed to get dressed into your pajamas when you returned. 

So, from the sofa, a light dusting of snowflakes shook out and covered your skirt. Finally, from the ceiling, a twilight sky grew and let snow fall gently around both of you. 

“Theseus, this is…beautiful.” However, in the back of your mind, a question started to grow. 

If Theseus could do all of this with a simple wave of his wand…why had he needed your help with practicing his Charms only a few weeks ago?

Theseus smiled at you, pocketing his wand, and holding your hand before gently raising it. “Now, I know my mother taught myself and Newt that gentleman never refuse a lady’s request to dance. I’m hoping you were perhaps taught something like it.”

You smiled, a little nervously as you took a step towards him. “I might have been told a lady should accept a gentleman’s offer…so long as I consider him a gentle man.”

Theseus smiled, a little nervously. “And do you?”

Laying your free hand on his upper arm, you nodded. “I do.”

A gentle but caring smile washed over his mouth before he laid his hand around your waist and started leading you to the music you’d only just recognised was playing. 

Looking back on that night with Theseus, you figured maybe that was when you had fallen for him. 

But you couldn’t be too sure, because your friendship with him, although hadn’t been much to begin with, had only grown from that night onwards. 

The next day, you found out your date had found himself unknowingly stuck in the muddy fields of the Quidditch pitch. Even after the Charms professor managed to get him unstuck, it took him weeks before he was able to have mud no longer stick to his clothing or even him. 

A year later, Theseus graduated. A year after that, you did. 

He wrote to you, during his service in the war. Mostly, you worked undercover until an injury in the field left your bosses worried about losing one of their best assets, wanting to keep you alive. Instead, you ran the secret communications office. 

You were told Theseus had come to visit you in the hospital but he’d been called away before you’d woken up. 

As the days went on and promotions were given, ten years had passed since that night of the Yule Ball. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked with a smile as you found a familiar face sat at your desk. 

Theseus leaned back with that same smile that gave you a light and funny feeling in your stomach. 

“Can’t one just drop by to see their very good friend?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, playfully, and hummed. “Maybe,” you said as you closed the door behind you. “So long as that very good friend you speak of doesn’t already know of your ulterior motive.”

Theseus feigned shock and held a hand against his broad chest. Pushing himself from your desk, he slowly walked around it until he was face to face with you. “What ulterior motive could I possibly be hiding?”

You hummed once more, before looking into your bag and pulling out a single leaflet. “That you are in need of a date and, since whisperings of your rather mediocre attempt at finding one has left you with very minimal options.”

Theseus clicked his tongue with a slight tilt of his head. Lifting his head a little, he looked down and plucked the leaflet from your hand. 

There was barely three inches of room between both of you, so the quiet sound of his sigh of defeat filled you with both joy and another unnamed feeling that you could only describe as…wanting to hear it again. 

“It is meant to be rather fun,” he pointed out. “And it’s also for charity.”

You gave him a short look that hid a smile. “Fine. I’ll go with you. One one condition.”

Theseus smiled, but nodded, waiting for your condition. 

“You actually ask.”

It was his turn to give you a look. “Just for the record, I was about to ask.”

You nodded. “I know. But you would have danced around it and tried to paint a rather pretty picture of something that we both know can be incredibly tedious.”

Theseus smiled at you, his gaze tracing every angle and curve of your face. Then, taking a breath before he was knocked off his feet, he finally asked. 

“Would you please accompany me to Friday’s charity gala, as my date?”

You waited a moment before nodding with a polite smile. “Yes, Theseus. I’d be honoured.”

A smile of relief washed over him as he held his hand over his heart once more. He bent his knees a little, dramatically portraying the weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you.”

You chuckled as he held onto your shoulders before kissing both of your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you laughed. “But I should tell you that your new assistant is looking for you. Apparently you have a meeting.”

Theseus stood tall once more, taking a small step back to let you pass and get to your desk. “Right, yes.”

“I will see you later, Theseus.”

He bowed his head as he left, trying to hide the redness you could probably see on his cheeks. “See you later.”

By the time Friday rolled around, you were nervous to say the least. 

You’d changed your outfit several times, consulted at least three books on how to style your hair, and spent almost ninety minutes doing your make-up. 

With a final few deep breaths as you checked yourself over in the mirror, you heard your doorbell ring. 

“It’s just a couple of hours,” you told yourself. “You can do this. It’ll be fine. Completely fine.”

And it was. 

Until you opened your front door and found Theseus standing on the doorstep, dressed in a tux and looking all kinds of handsome that shouldn’t have been legal. 

Theseus went to speak, but all words failed him as his eyes roamed across you before landing back on your own eyes. “You look…”

Theseus swallowed thickly and for a moment, you panicked. “Is it terrible? Oh, god. This is why I don’t– give me a second. I’ll try and find something-”

“No!” Theseus reached out for you quickly. “Sorry, no. It’s not terrible. I just wasn’t prepared for…” 

Theseus felt like he couldn’t breathe. But in no way did he feel suffocated. He knew you were beautiful. His feelings over the last decade or more had always felt stronger than those that he’d held for any other woman in his life. 

Parts of you always struck him whenever he got the chance to see you. Your smile, your laughter, the way you’d sigh at how bad his handwriting was. There were more moments than a few in a day where he found himself never wanting to look away from you. 

Mentally, he’d tried his best to prepare himself for the evening. He knew you’d be stunning. He knew you’d look at him with that simple but graceful smile and he’d feel so weak in his knees, he’d want to drop to them and pray to you as if you were the only Goddess he’d ever accept existing. 

But when you opened the door…

Nothing could have prepared him for your beauty. 

“You look stunning,” he told you. “Truly.”

“Oh.” 

Standing still, you took a moment to calm down from your raging internal panic. 

For a few moments, there was a silent tension. It would only build throughout the night, the longer you felt his eyes on you and he felt your hand on him. 

However, still standing on the doorstep, you both heard the sound of Big Ben ring out across the city night. “We should-”

Theseus nodded. “Right, we should-”

“Go,” you both agreed. 

As the night drew on, the same tension you’d both felt outside your home only seemed to grow. His smile and his laugh made you lightheaded. And by the time he’d held out his hand and led you effortlessly to the dancefloor, you were starting to feel overwhelmed. 

The memory of the Yule Ball flashed through your mind as your eyes remained fixed on his, dancing around the floor. 

Then you noticed the look in his eyes. 

“What?” You asked him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he smiled with a light shake of his head. “Just…remembering…things.”

You chuckled, a little nervously, because you had been doing the same. 

By the end of the night, the atmosphere around both of you was practically stabbing you in the back of your neck. Each light touch of his hand felt like it was burning your skin, but it wasn’t at all painful. 

“I think we need to talk,” Theseus said, finally breaking the tension as you both landed in your fireplace. 

He’d felt something change just before you walked with him onto the dancefloor, and ever since, that change had been weighing over both of you, wrapped in a cloud of fear. But he cared about you too much to let the Change change you both forever, and not in the way he so desperately wished. 

You’d practically ran out of the fireplace and around your home by the time he spoke up. 

“What about?” You asked, after downing a glass of water. 

Theseus scratched the back of his head. He could leave, but that would mean the noticeable tension would only grow into something possibly unbearable. 

“I think you know.”

You shook your head, but Theseus rushed forward. “Yes, yes, you do.”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” you said, nerves laced through your voice as you kept you back to him and moved around your home. 

With a wave of your wand, you tidied everything away. Dresses rushed back into the decorative box that lay besides your sofa, the jackets and shawls rushed past Theseus and headed to your stand by your front door. All the while, he practically chased you around your home. 

“Y/n, please.”

“We’re friends,” you said, lifting the brown paper bag filled with your new make-up products. You hurried past him, into your hallway and up the stairs. 

Theseus followed. 

“We shared a dance,” you said, reaching the landing and heading towards your bedroom. 

“That was all,” you finished, laying the bag on your vanity and pulling the shawl from your shoulders, feeling too hot and panicked. 

You could hear Theseus’ breath – he was trying to catch it as he remained at your bedroom door. His bow tie was loose, his coat open and his hair was a little messier than it had been when you’d first arrived home. 

“Was it?”

Trying to keep your breath steady, you slowly turned around and faced him. He was leaning with his arm against the side of your doorframe, looking just as terrified as you. “Yes.” 

“Liar.”

Truthfully, even you hadn’t convinced yourself when you’d answered ‘yes’. 

Looking at each other, trying to catch your breath from a night of tension, all it took was your name and a simple word to slip from his lips to have you moving across the room towards him. 

“Y/n…please…”

Pulling him in, you kissed him. 

With his arm still against the doorframe, his other pulled you in at your waist and turned you. Your back was against the wooden frame as he blocked you against it, kissing you back and never wishing to stop. 

You gasped a little as his teeth gently bit into your bottom lip, and then you felt him smile. You kissed him harder, pulling him in closer. 

With your hands sliding under his coat, you motioned for him to take it off. And he did so, barely breaking his kiss with you. 

With his coat and tie left stranded outside your bedroom door, you pulled him with you as you walked backwards into your bedroom. His hands grappled for your hips and waist as you removed his dinner jacket and waistcoat. 

You managed to get half of his shirt buttons undone before he crumpled your dress by your thighs and lifted you until your legs were wrapped around him. 

A few seconds passed and he had you pressed against one of your bedroom walls, his mouth trailing along your jaw, neck and exposed collar. 

“Theseus,” you breathed, pushing your hand through the back of his hair. You gasped a little as he found your pulse point and trailed his teeth across your soft skin before lightly sucking. 

He groaned in pleasure as you whispered his name again. His lips were fixed on your neck, but his hands; one held you in place whilst the other roamed along your body, igniting your skin that was still annoyingly covered by your dress. 

Moving his head, needing to feel his lips on yours again; he obliged. 

Without you having to say anything, Theseus started to move you over to your bed where he lay you down gently and kept kissing you. 

Your fingers moved quickly to undo the rest of his shirt buttons whilst his hands lifted your thighs and opened them a little. 

Under your dress, he gently squeezed at the soft flesh of your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“Theseus,” you breathed into the kiss. “Please. Please, touch me.”

Your underwear was already soaked through, which was more than a pleasure to find out. Finally touching you, you lifted your hips a little as he applied a little pressure and carefully curled his fingers inside of you. 

His breath quickened as he took you in, laying under him, both of you drunk on the kiss. 

“You’re beautiful,” he told you. “So,” he kissed the corner of your mouth and then your neck. “So beautiful.”

By the time the sun had risen over the city, yourself and Theseus were lying together in a tangled mess of bedsheets and pillows, whilst both of your clothes lay thrown around the room. 

Your dress, from when he’d helped you stand on aching legs, was delicately thrown over the clothing divider in the corner of your room. His shirt was hanging on the post just beside it. His trousers lay crumbled on the floor, alongside his socks and shoes, as well as your own. 

You woke first, still sore and tired (but in the best way). Theseus was still lying beside you, sleeping. Though you doubted the sleeping part when you tried to move and the arm he had lay securely across you refused to let you leave. 

“Darling,” Theseus’ voice was deep and tired, but still somehow managed to have his playful edge laced throughout. 

Theseus didn’t have to open his eyes to see the smile you couldn’t even begin to hide, spread across your face. With his arm as he turned from his front to his side, he pulled you in closer to him, tangling his legs with yours. 

He’d carried feelings for you, for over ten years. And last night, things finally changed for the better. 

He wasn’t about to let you get away again. 

“It’s nearly twelve,” you told him. 

He blew a small raspberry, his eyes still closed. “It’s barely nine.”

He buried his face into your neck, carefully and slowly kissing and nipping at your skin. “I was meant to tidy my office today.”

“On the weekend?” His brows furrowed before he groaned, feeling you lightly drag your nails down his bare side and under the covers. “You’re such a nerd. I love it. But, you should know the Ministry doesn’t open until eleven on the weekends. And, since it’s only six-”

You giggled a little, leaning into his touch. “You just said it was nine.”

Theseus opened his eyes to look at you, just before rolling you onto your back. “It’s the weekend. We don’t have to move until Monday.”

“At all?”

He nodded. “At all.”

Only, you frowned. “That’s a shame.”

“Why-” 

Theseus didn’t need to finish his question, as in one swift movement, he was laying under you as you straddled his hips. Theseus laughed as you leaned above him, kissing him in between your words. “Because I-” Kiss. “Planned on-” Kiss. “Doing a lot-” Kiss. “Of moving.”

However, before you kissed him again, you quickly added; “After tidying my office.”

You tried to get up, but Theseus was too quick. “Ah, hey, no you, don’t-”

You laughed as he pulled you back into bed, rolling over you and keeping you in place. 

"Hiya, Petal," he murmured as he leaned on one of the old, rickety shelves.

Petal. You hated that name. Ever since fourth year, when he made flower petals rain above you for a whole day, he had claimed that as his nickname for you, and unfortunately for you, it still haunted you all these years later.

"Hello," you said softly, voice ever so slightly trembling as you flipped a page.

"Watcha doing?" He questioned as he loomed over you, running a finger over the pages of your book.

Your eyes flicked up for half a second, barely catching the softer-than-usual smirk that adorned his face. "Reading?" you replied, yet it was more of a question than a statement.

Merlin, stop hesitating so much!

Mattheo hummed, and he threw himself onto the beanbag near your feet. "Sounds boring." He said dramatically as he poked at your arm repeatedly. For once, not actually teasing or bullying.

"Well… trying to." You whispered, subtly leaning away and shifting the book closer to your chest.

It was then that Mattheo's eyes flicked up and narrowed. He sat up straight, scoffing, "Yeah… boring." He then looked at your book. "A muggle story? Wouldn't expect anything else from a puff like you."

He smirked as he watched the tips of your ears turn a light shade of pink. He then grabbed the book from your grasp and tossed it to the side with a thud.

"Tell me, Petal…" he mumbled as he twirled a strand of your hair. "Are you hiding again?"

Your breath hitched, and you tried, yet again, to shift away but failed.

"From who?"

He didn't answer for a moment; instead, he sat down on the armrest, one hand still holding your hair, his free one right next to your head, and he leaned over you.

He was close.

Too close.

"From everyone… you always come here when you're trying to stay hidden." His voice was a low baritone, and his eyes flicked across your face before settling on the dainty light pink peony clip that held your hair out of your face. "I came to make sure you hadn't gotten lost in your little.. uh, fairytales."

His voice was not fully mocking. There was an undertone of something else there you couldn't place.

"I'm not—I don't hide," you stuttered as you tried to explain yourself, blinking quickly and nervous at the thought of confrontation. Your fingers trembled as you picked at a loose thread on your skirt as an attempt to steady them.

"No?" Mattheo slowly flicked a piece of fluff off of your shoulder before sharp met soft as your eyes locked. "Well… from what I've gathered… you always seem to try and hide when I'm around, hm?"

With that, he picked up her book and sat it on the armrest where he was sitting prior and barely looked at your glassy eyes before flicking down to your hands. "Don't ruin your skirt." He said almost softly.

You blinked up at him in confusion as you watched his sneer appear back on his face.

"You probably can't afford another one anyway," he snapped and blew out the warm candles around you before walking away briskly, carelessly shoving younger students out of the way and muttering a few choice words under his breath.

As you left the library around fifteen minutes later, your thoughts couldn't help but linger on that interaction. You knew Mattheo could be unpredictable. But that was crazily different from any of your other interactions. For a few minutes, he seemed almost… relaxed?

No. He's messing with you again.

You shook your head as you made your way up to your dorm room, now very excited to spend the last half hour of your day tending to your various plants.

You carelessly threw your book down on your bed as you rummaged for some tools; your eye caught a small yellow blur.

A petal.