#jage

Her screech seemed to alert everyone but the boy she had tried to address. Engrossed in her Captain’s Playbook and afraid of losing her seat on the courtyard fountain to have her morning chai latte, Sage took a more obnoxious approach in her call to the Ravenclaw Seeker and gave it her best musical spin. “Buh-buh-buh Bennie and the Jetssss!” she nearly yodeled at the top of her lungs.

Sage expected her favorite teammate and de facto friend to rush to her with a blush on his cheeks to beg her to shut up. As soon as he turned to her, she turned her attention back to her book to review the good news until she felt him sitting at her side. “Benedict, I’ve got it. I have calculated the perfect play for our match with Slytherin. We will annihilate their team so badly. They’ll all have to return home in shame, drop out, the whole lot of them. We’ll turn the entire Slytherin common room into Ravenclaw’s trophy room,” she explained between sips of her breakfast.

When no response came from him, Sage looked up from her book. His cheeks were blushed as predicted, but a warmth she believed to be panic spread through her body despite the morning chill. The boy at her side was not her seeker. She slammed her playbook closed and scrunched her nose. “Nice try, Reva! Did you think it would work? Polyjuicing yourself into Benedict? And goodness, Slytherin robes? I’m surprised at you! Honestly, it’s brilliant, but something is off. I can still see the mischief in your eyes,” her words softened as the impish eyes lit up in laughter.

“I don’t know Reva, but she sounds brilliant. I’m Jack. Benedict never mentioned being a twin. Honestly?” The boy smirked and shook his head. “I was just coming over to correct the case of mistaken identity, but now I’d like to know how you plan to move your Quidditch Cup into my common room,” he added.

Sipping her latte, Sage racked her mind for any mention of a twin. “Maybe? Most of our talks are about quidditch. Anyway, Reva, I’m not telling you anything about the holes in Slytherin’s defense.”

“Mistaken identity 2.0,” he muttered without rising from his place at her side. “Not Benedict, not Reva. I’m Jack,” he laughed as the blush now spread to Sage’s cheeks. “And unless those are football plays in that book, I can’t promise I’d understand them, but I like your enthusiasm. It’s cold out here, and I’m hungry. That coffee doesn’t look like a proper breakfast. Come on, join me for a waffle?”

Sage balked at her mug. “It’s chai. It is a proper breakfast,” she started to protest until he smiled. She knew Reva’s smirk. She knew Benedict’s grin. Yet, this smile was new and genuine. She was sure she had never been smiled at in a way that made her busy mind so calm.

She took his outstretched hand and stood. She didn’t pause to consider how many laps she would need to swim in the prefect’s baths to work off the maple syrup or how excess carbohydrates would impact her backswing. She wanted waffles, but it was the warm hand that wrapped around hers that brought her in from the cold. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt. I need to stick around and ensure your polyjuice wears off properly,” she giggled.

“You can stick around all day. I’ll still be Jack."