#kalena

“What a jerk!” Constance exclaimed over breakfast.

“Who?” Elena asked absently, not raising her eyes from her book.

“Kanade. He’s always mean and rude to everyone. A total jerk.”

Elena sighed, looking towards the Gryffindor table. Kanade Mikage was eating his breakfast, looking, in her opinion, nothing like a jerk.

“Well, I think he’s nice,” she said with a faint smile. At that very moment, Kanade looked up, his amber eyes meeting hers. He couldn’t possibly have heard her, could he?

But Constance certainly had.

“You’re hopeless, Elena,” she sighed. “Just yesterday, when Leander offered to help him in Herbology, Kanade replied with a colourful list of profanities, half of them in Japanese. Who does that?”

“I find it impressive he managed to learn English as a foreign language,” Elena replied nonchalantly, turning her attention back to One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Constance responded with another heavy sigh.

As the year progressed, Elena found herself increasingly busy with her studies and preparation for her future O.W.L.s. As an aspiring Healer, she needed at least five O.W.L.s, and, as a true Ravenclaw, she wasn’t going to settle for anything less than “Outstanding”. What little time she had beyond homework, she spent helping her siblings to study or watching them play Quidditch. And, as she realised with a creeping blush, thinking about the not-a-jerk-although-sometimes-a-meany Gryffindor.

It was a coincidence that Elena’s gaze occasionally wandered towards the Gryffindor table during meals – both her siblings were sitting there, after all. And if her gaze lingered at Kanade now and then – it was purely by accident.

As a hobbyist painter, Elena had learned to notice beauty in the smallest of details. So she couldn’t deny that Kanade had a striking hairstyle (top knot), a unique amber shade to his eyes, and a sharp jawline. He was attractive, that much she could see with her own eyes, and she didn’t need to hear the giggling whispers of Hufflepuff fourth-years to know that.

But for every remark about his looks, there were two calling him a jerk – just as Constance had noticed at the start of the year. The only people he got along with were Natty from Gryffindor (probably bonded by having both started Hogwarts in fourth year) and Ominis Gaunt. Everyone else, it seemed, had a story about Kanade being rude.

Elena was glad that, despite her studies and Diana’s Quidditch and other activities (Merlin, were the rumours about her sister fighting Ashwinders actually true?), they still found time for each other. She sat comfortably on Diana’s bed in the Gryffindor dorm and brushed her sister’s gorgeous hair.

“I don’t know how you do this, Elena!” Diana complained. “The second that ectoplasm relic opens his mouth, it’s as if someone casts a Sleeping Charm on me.”

“Just try concentrating next time,” Elena replied, smiling faintly. “And make your notes on History of Magic more orderly.”

“It requires a Ravenclaw brain like yours for that,” Diana muttered, and Elena chuckled. Unfortunately, neither of her siblings shared her House. “I could never be a Ravenclaw.”

“Do you think Harvey could have been?” Elena teased. “I think he would look rather handsome in blue.”

Diana let out a groan. “No way you are stealing our brother to your raven’s nest and leaving me alone in Gryffindor.”

“It’s eagle’s nest, Diana,” Elena corrected.

“See? Ravenclaw brain. We Gryffindors don’t fuss over details.”

Elena hesitated, lowering the brush for a moment.

“Speaking of Gryffindors…” she began carefully. “The Beater on your team, what was his name… Kanade –”

“Total jerk!” Diana exclaimed, not letting her sister finish. “Swears constantly, snaps at everyone. Honestly, no idea why Natty tolerates him on the team. Maybe because he’s Kogawa’s nephew. If the others who tried out for Beater weren’t so hopeless…”

She trailed off, and Elena sighed, resuming brushing Diana’s hair.

By winter, Elena had almost stopped thinking about Kanade – and whether he truly was as awful as everyone claimed. It hardly mattered – less than the upcoming exams or keeping her far-too-Gryffindor siblings at least somehow studying.

That was, until the day Professor Sharp sent her to fetch fresh Mandrake leaves from the Greenhouses. Elena didn’t mind – Sharp was gruff, but fair, and she was excelling in Potions, which was a vital subject for every future Healer.

She went after classes, and Elena didn’t expect anyone save for Professor Garlick in the Greenhouses. To her surprise, she found none other than Kanade.

“What are you doing here so late?” she asked, genuinely curious as Kanade was mumbling something in Japanese to a Bubotuber.

“Detention,” he muttered sharply. “Not everyone is the perfect know-it-all Ravenclaw.”

Elena didn’t mind being called a know-it-all because, like any Ravenclaw, she didn’t see it as an insult. She simply shrugged and began searching for the leaves Professor Garlick had set aside. It took her some time, all of which she had to listen to Kanade’s ramblings. She couldn’t understand most of it, except for a few English profanities he used now and then, but she felt sorry for him. Apparently, Herbology wasn’t his strength. Finally retrieving the Mandrake leaves, she went over to Kanade.

“Let me show you,” she said gently, and Kanade glared at her.

He was indeed handsome, and Elena had heard the Hufflepuff girls gushing about his “melted gold and copper eyes” (in her opinion, they were simply amber, but it wasn’t an argument worth having with Hufflepuffs). But the eye colour was not the most distinctive feature of his gaze. It was the intensity that pinned her in place now.

“I don’t need help,” he said curtly, adding some sharp Japanese word under his breath.

“Maybe you don’t,” Elena replied patiently, “but this poor Bubotuber does.”

She reached for the plant, but Kanade jerked and squeezed the Bubotuber so hard that its pus sprayed over his hands. Elena gasped in horror, frozen for a moment. Bubotuber pus was useful in healing potions when diluted, but the raw one caused painful burns. Kanade’s hands were covered in yellow boils that must have hurt immensely, but he only gritted his teeth, letting out a low growl of pain. Elena blinked for a second, then reached for her wand and murmured a Cleansing Charm to clear the pus from his hands.

“I. told. You. I. don’t. need. Help,” Kanade barked out through bouts of pain, but Elena ignored him, muttering Healing incantations. The boils began to fade, and soon nothing reminded of the incident save for a pink shade on his skin.

“There you go,” she exhaled in relief. “Tomorrow you won’t notice a thing. If you don’t clean Bubotuber pus immediately, it does much more damage – you might not have been able to use your hands for days, even with Nurse Blainey’s help.”

“Why did you do this?” Kanade’s voice came out rough.

“Because it was the right thing to do. Like I said, if you don’t remove Bubotuber pus immediately –”

“It was my fault. I should have put on those fucking dragon-hide gloves.”

Elena frowned.

“So what if it was your fault? Should I have just let you suffer? I knew how to help, so I helped.”

Elena was sure that he hardly felt pain anymore, but his face was still twisted in a peculiar expression. She took a hesitant step towards him, and he met her gaze. Just as intense as always, his perpetual scowl still there, but now there was something else – vulnerability, as if she had caught him unguarded. Elena felt her anger at his hostile tone fade.

“My siblings wouldn’t forgive me if their team lost a Beater just before the match, would they?” she asked in a lighter tone, with a slight hint of teasing. Kanade blinked at this, and she felt a satisfaction curling deep inside her. He surely didn’t expect that – most people got irritated or hurt because of his rudeness, but not her. “See you around, Kanade.”

He didn’t answer, but Elena didn’t need him to. She left the Greenhouses with her head high, a light smirk still playing on her lips.

As light as Elena’s mood had been that evening, it turned foul soon enough. Cressida Blume accidentally sent her books flying around in the library. That wouldn’t be news, but her diary was among the books and, in a pathetic attempt to retrieve it, Cressida made it explode, scattering the pages over the entire library. By dinner, everyone was informed about its content.

“Who knew Cressida was such a dimwit!” Constance exclaimed.

“Uh-huh,” Elena murmured, concentrated on her Transfiguration essay.

“I mean, a full list of Hogwarts crushes – how pathetic! Is her own life so boring that she had nothing better to write about than that?”

“Even if she did make a list of crushes, no one is going to care. It was just in her head.”

Constance flushed and lowered her gaze.

“Well… not entirely,” she started carefully. “I mean, the thing she wrote about me was obviously wrong, sure, but she hit the nail with Garreth crushing on Imelda, or Amit and Adelaide, or Poppy and Ominis, or…”

“Yes, I got it, Constance,” Elena said quickly. “So, what did she write about you?”

Constance bit her lip before whispering.

“I might like Andrew. A tiny bit! Cressida exaggerated a lot!”

Elena smirked.

“Well, at least Cressida didn’t write about me.”

“About that…”

Elena furrowed her brows, and Constance sighed.

“She did, actually. It was about Kanade,” Constance wrinkled her nose. “She claimed she overheard you asking Diana about him, and that she saw you two in Greenhouses.”

Elena felt a shiver down her neck. She was not bothered easily by rumours (there were a few Ravenclaws who disliked her and spread some meaningless gossip), but this was different. Since the Greenhouses incident, both Diana and Harvey teased her, suggesting she might like Kanade. And as embarrassing as it was to admit, they hadn’t been entirely wrong.

Despite herself, her gaze went to the Gryffindor table, and, of course, Kanade had to look at her. His gaze reminded him of a way he looked in the Greenhouses, a mix of intensity and vulnerability, and Elena lowered her eyes with a blush.

Well, she could at least admit it to herself – she liked him. But she couldn’t just tell him this – that was not her way. Besides, she wasn’t sure how he would react.

Kanade was tough and maybe even rude on the outside, but Elena saw the other part of him – soft and unaccustomed to kindness. No, she couldn’t just confess outright – he would just bristle his spines up like a suspicious Knarl. She would have to be more subtle, especially now that, thanks to Cressida, it had become public.

“Valentine’s Day,” Elena muttered.

“Huh?” Constance asked in confusion.

“I need to do something for Valentine’s Day,” Elena repeated, and a mischievous smile curled her lips.

“Wait. You are not thinking about… Elena? Elena!”

But Elena wasn’t listening, hurrying to the Quidditch pitch.

The two weeks that followed passed in a blur. Elena’s memory suppressed the very knowing (and embarrassing) looks from Madam Kogawa, focusing instead on what the professor had mercifully shared with her.

Honmei chocolate. A phrase meaning “true feeling” in Japanese – something Japanese girls gave to their boyfriends, husbands and (Elena blushed at the knowing smile of Madam Kogawa) desired partners. She quickly mumbled her thanks and left, but not before Madam Kogawa added that her nephew “was fond of matcha chocolate.”

And today, on February 14th, Elena was carrying a box of matcha chocolate she had made with her own hands. It had required some effort (and trading a few Potions essays to seventh-years willing to Apparate her to London), but she had found a small Japanese café serving everything matcha. The owner had shown Elena how to temper chocolate and allowed her to use the kitchen to make her honmei. Making chocolate with her own hands was new and exciting, and bore some similarities with Potions (although this sweet Muggle woman didn’t need to know that).

During breakfast, Elena received plenty of notes and gifts, but she ignored them all. Across the Great Hall, Kanade’s scowl grew harder and darker each time an owl landed in front of him – and even darker when they landed before her. Finally, he muttered a quick Incendio and reduced his own pile to ashes, making the Hufflepuff admirers club gasp in despair. Then he stood and left, the door of the Great Hall slamming loudly behind him.

Elena sighed, staring at her mountain of unwanted gifts. She was tempted to follow Kanade’s example and use Incendio. But she didn’t, continuing to eat her breakfast in silence, nodding to Constance who was wondering whether she would get something from a certain someone (and making eyes at Andrew, who seemed oblivious to her not-so-subtle hints). Elena’s thoughts wandered back to Kanade. Was that even a good idea? If that was Kanade’s reaction to admirers, how might he react to his gift?

But Elena wasn’t the one to wonder for long. After breakfast, she went to the Ravenclaw dorm, gathered her neatly wrapped package, and made her way to the Music Room. She had a feeling she would find Kanade there, and she was right.

Kanade was sitting, his fingers plucking the strings of a shamisen, a look of silent determination on his face. Elena stopped, momentarily mesmerised. He looked different when he played. His usual scowl gone, his harsh features softened, his eyes full of concentration and quiet joy. How anyone could see him like this and think he was rude, Elena didn’t know. He seemed lost in the melody, but then he raised his head with a sharp movement and, to her disappointment, stopped playing.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, attempting to sound gruff, but it was more endearing than truly rude.

Elena smiled. “Enjoying the music. It’s a music room, isn’t it?”

Kanade mumbled something in response, then his gaze drifted to the package in her hands. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“And I brought you something,” Elena added, stepping closer. Kanade slowly put his shamisen aside, but didn’t move otherwise.

“For me?”

“For you.”

Kanade studied her with suspicion before beginning to unwrap the package, his fingers just as precise and meticulous as when he played music. He took the folded note first.

Elena didn’t understand Japanese, but the kind old lady in London had insisted the gift must include a message. Elena had tried her best to copy the phrase this lady had translated for her, but she feared her Japanese handwriting looked childlike at best and atrocious at worst. Kanade read the note, his eyebrows rising higher until he swallowed hard.

“Do you know what this says?” he asked in a low voice.

Elena nodded.

“I made them with extra care for someone special. I hope you feel the same,” she recited, feeling her cheeks warming, and Kanade’s breath hitched. There it was again – the same vulnerability she saw in the Greenhouses. He quickly looked down and unwrapped the rest of the package, revealing a set of handmade matcha chocolates. Elena couldn’t rival the finest chocolatiers, but she was still proud of those. They were all unique –from soft green to dark cocoa with sprinkles of deep moss, the surface varying from shiny to velvety.

“Why?” he asked finally, and Elena frowned.

“Why what?”

“Why give it to me? It’s honmei chocolate.”

“I think the note is self-explanatory, Kanade.”

Kanade let out a hum, still not touching the chocolates. His face betrayed the internal battle as he tried and failed to suppress the rising blush. His lips quirked as if he were holding back a smile. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to say anything just yet. But Elena was patient.

“I hope you enjoy them,” Elena said quietly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Kanade.”

With a small smile, she turned and left the room.

Elena and Kanade hadn’t talked since Valentine’s Day, but things had changed regardless. Elena had started finding little handwritten notes with haikus in her books and bag. Each time she discovered one, she gave Kanade a curious look, but he just looked away, feigning innocence.

Well, two could play that game. So Elena slipped sketches into his books and bag (Natty and her siblings made good allies in this, and Elena stoically endured the teasing). Kanade reading, brows furrowed in concentration. Kanade playing Quidditch, his scowl and the Bludger bat both promising nothing but defeat to his opponents. And Kanade playing the shamisen, lost in the melody.

They didn’t speak, but words weren’t necessary for now. Just simple haikus and simple sketches.

There was something else, though. Elena had noticed that the rumours about her had stopped completely, which was odd. The answer, when it came, was simple yet surprising. Once, she saw a group of Ravenclaws practically run for their lives at the sight of Kanade, who followed them with a gaze full of hatred and smugness. Kanade could look intimidating when he wanted to. He wasn’t that tall – only slightly taller than Elena – but his scar, his strong arms, and his crucifying gaze made quite an impression. Elena never felt afraid in his presence, but, apparently, not all Ravenclaws felt the same.

March 14th was just a usual day, and Elena didn’t suspect anything until she returned to her dorm after dinner. Near her bed was a large white box, wrapped and placed just like Christmas presents used to be. Elena picked up the handwritten note and couldn’t contain her smile as she read.

“The melody of strings The song of my singing heart Have you heard it all?”

“Each note carries hope That you will understand What I can’t yet say”

“Your lips pink and soft Your smile can heal pain and gloom Your eyes full of light”

“My hopes rise and fall Uncertainty is the worst But I dread the truth”

Elena took a slow breath and gently tucked the note into her robes before unwrapping the gift.

Chocolate. So much chocolate. White, dark, milk, matcha. Plain, with nuts, with fruit. Chocolate bars, chocolate pralines, chocolate hearts. It looked as if someone had robbed Honeydukes, but each piece was neatly wrapped in white paper.

And beneath it all lay another small note.

“Too afraid to ask Which ones are your favourite So I got them all”

Elena smiled, then shook her head. She enjoyed their little game of pretending neither knew who was behind these gifts. But now, she was in the mood to win.

As expected, Kanade was in the Music Room, playing the shamisen, apparently lost in the melody. But Elena knew him better by now – she had to observe him to sketch him accurately. His fingers looked steady on the strings, but there was tension in his movements. Kanade had grown nervous the moment he heard her steps. She said nothing, just sat down near him, allowing him to finish the melody.

It felt good just to sit and listen, the music speaking louder than words. Elena let herself enjoy it – the sound and the way his fingers moved, precise and elegant. Kanade had beautiful hands, she thought, resisting the urge to take out her sketchbook and draw them.

When the final note faded, Kanade set the shamisen aside. Elena was the first to break the following silence.

“Thank you for the chocolate, Kanade.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” he replied nonchalantly, but Elena noticed the subtle tension in his jaw.

“Right,” she said with a smirk. “You probably don’t know anything about the haikus either, huh?”

“Exactly. Could be any of your admirers. You have plenty.”

Elena caught even more tension in his face and something new lacing his voice. Could it be… jealousy? She hid a small smile.

“Not that many,” she said. “But I did notice the gossip in Ravenclaw has stopped. I wonder why.”

She spoke slowly, watching Kanade’s face from the corner of her eye. There it was – a small smug smirk, barely a twitch of his lips.

“The chocolate was very good, by the way,” she continued. “And my favourite is milk chocolate. I also love truffles – those that are crunchy and firm on the outside, but soft and gentle inside. I think those are the best.”

This time Kanade turned to look at her, letting their eyes meet. Elena held his gaze, steady at first, then softening.

“Do you?” he asked quietly.

“I do, Kanade,” she replied sincerely. “I draw sometimes, as you might know…”

His loud snort made her pause, and she smiled as well. She was sure he treasured her sketches just as she treasured his poetry.

“One of the most important things in art,” she continued, “is to learn to look beneath the surface, however unwelcoming. Discovering the true nature of something… or someone. That’s what makes art special. Besides, what Ravenclaw would fear uncovering what is hidden?”

“You’re odd,” Kanade murmured.

“So I’ve been told,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve also been told I’m brave.”

That made him raise a brow.

“I am,” Elena insisted. “When Harvey, Diana and I were little, we tried to send someone to the North Pole. Harvey and Diana were always up to mischief and worried they wouldn’t make the Nice List otherwise.”

Elena couldn’t contain a fond smile. She loved her siblings as if they were parts of herself.

“I volunteered to go. I was the one not afraid to travel so far. Ironic, considering they both ended up as Gryffindors, hm?” She shook her head. Kanade didn’t interrupt, listening intently. “Obviously, our plan failed when Father caught us. But the point is – I’ve never been afraid of the unknown.”

She hesitated, her hand reaching slowly for Kanade’s hand. He didn’t pull away when her fingers touched his.

“Gryffindors act bravely despite the fear. But Ravenclaws don’t know fear at all. At least, the odd ones.”

“You should,” Kanade muttered. “You should be afraid.”

“Of what, exactly?”

He lowered his gaze, his fingers twitching against Elena’s, but not pulling away.

“Of me.” His voice was so quiet she barely heard him.

“I am not,” Elena said, her voice soft but firm. “I am not afraid of you, Kanade. I never was.”

He swallowed hard.

“You should. Because I am. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

He looked up sharply. “How can you be so sure? I hurt people. I scare them. Fuck, I didn’t even have to do anything to those idiots in your House – they nearly shit their pants just looking at me. The whole fucking school hates me and is afraid of me.”

“Well, I’m not,” Elena said simply.

“You’re odd.”

“And you repeat yourself,” she teased with a laugh. “You’ve said that already. But maybe… maybe it takes an odd one to appreciate something special. Someone special.”

Kanade flinched, swallowing hard again, his eyes widening.

“You don’t mean it,” he said, his voice strained.

“I do,” Elena whispered. “I mean it.”

He didn’t answer, but his hand tightened around hers.

“And if there is something you want to say, but aren’t ready yet – you can always write it. After all, what Ravenclaw doesn’t like reading?”

Kanade turned to her. “Do you want to listen to my music again?”

“I do,” Elena said, reaching for her bag. “If you don’t mind me sketching while you play.”

They didn’t talk again, each concentrated on their art, expressing through music and lines what remained untold.

The next day, Elena found another note tucked into her book – the familiar handwriting, the same haiku structure.

“Thanks for being you I want to touch your hand again Your warmth makes me warm”

Elena smiled, slipping the note back between the pages. Across the table, she noticed Kanade carefully unwrapping her sketch – the one of him playing the shamisen. Their gazes met, and she caught the hint of a smile on Kanade’s face.

“Huh, why are you both looking like that?” Constance asked, perplexed.

Elena didn’t answer. She rose from her seat and walked slowly towards the exit of the Great Hall. She didn’t have to turn around to know Kanade was following.

They didn’t share another word until the doors closed behind them. He reached for her hand first, and she squeezed his fingers in return.

“Your warmth makes me warm too,” Elena whispered, and for the first time since she had known him, Kanade’s smile was wide and sincere.

Thank you for reading! And thank you once again @pierrot-dokki, @stein0806 for trusting me Kalena, I am very touched and honoured ❤️❤️❤️

More Kanade, Elena and Kalena posts from their owners :)

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

PS: Kanade gifted Elena the chocolate on White Day. Wikipedia: White Day is celebrated annually on March 14, one month after Valentine's Day, when men give reciprocal gifts to women who gave them gifts on Valentine's Day.