#remale reader

Looking to the right, I see him. Or rather, them. Fred and George are wearing their usual ear-to-ear grins and that gleam of mischief in their eyes that never seems to go away. The kind of look that usually means Filch has had a very bad afternoon.

I'm startled out of my thoughts as I feel long arms wrap around my torso and my legs lift into the air.

"What ya daydreaming about, Potter?" Fred laughs in my ear as he jogs down the hallway and down the stairs to the lower floor. I kick him and swat uselessly at his arms, but I can't stop smiling.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Weasley? Put me down, now!"

"Never!" George butts in, laughing in tow.

I continue to badger the twins as the air rushes past my face until Fred finally slows and sets me gently on my feet in front of the Great Hall.

"There, you happy now?" George teases as he and Fred smirk down at me.

"Very."

"Let's go then, Potter. Dinner awaits!" Fred declares, pointing theatrically toward the Great Hall like a knight charging into battle.

I roll my eyes, nudging Fred with my elbow as we join the stream of students pouring in for today's final meal. Between George stealing chips from my plate, Fred insisting pumpkin juice tasted better from my goblet, and Harry needing help brainstorming how to defeat a dragon for the first Triwizard Task, dinner passed the way it usually does, with at least three threats from Professor McGonagall to "keep the noise down."

***

Professor Sprout's soft gaze sweeps among the horde of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in the greenhouse.

"Students, look at the person sitting next to you at your station."

I turn my head to smile at the tall Hufflepuff boy sitting next to me. He offers a warm smile, the kind that's polite without feeling forced. His gloves are already stained with soil. Anyone who spends enough time in the greenhouses knows dirt has a way of following you everywhere.

"This will be your partner for the duration of your work with harvesting Bubotubers. Now, get to potting your seedlings!"

I quickly grab a tray of seedlings while the boy preps the soil.

"Okay, I got them! Is the soil rea-" I get cut off as I trip over a sack of fertilizer left loosely in the middle of the walkway. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's all right, they're tougher than they look." The boy kneels and helps me pick up the poor seedlings. I let out a small chuckle.

"See?" he picks up the tray and sets it on the table. "They're perfectly fine."

"Thank you so much."

"Anytime. I'm Shaun. Shaun Williams." He extends his hand for me to shake.

"Y/N. Y/N Potter." I shake his hand. I try to dust myself off, but to no avail.

"Yeah, that dirt isn't going anywhere, trust me. I've ruined plenty of clothes in here." His eyes follow my hand motions as he moves the fertilizer out of the walkway. "Have you done Bubotubers before?"

"Only once. I still don't understand how something that ugly is so useful."

Shaun laughs. "Professor Sprout says that's true of half the greenhouse."

We settle into an easy rhythm, passing tools back and forth until talking to Shaun feels as effortless as the work itself. Before I realize it, the bell rings through the greenhouse.

"See you at the same time on Friday?" Shaun asks as he packs his bag.

I giggle. "Absolutely."

As I exit the greenhouse, I notice Fred casually leaning on the opposite wall. He pushes himself off the wall the moment he spots me, his grin widening as his eyes travel over my dirt-covered robes.

"Merlin, Sprout finally decided to plant you?"

***

I sit down in Transfiguration, bouncing my knee, anxious to be released from the classroom.

"What are you so nervous about?" Harry asks as he sits down after having his swordfight with Ron unceremoniously broken up by Professor McGonagall, his brow raising under his round glasses.

"Just a little antsy, that's all," I respond with a shrug. "We still need to figure out that egg. If we don't know what it means, you're pretty much doomed, aren't you?"

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age, I have something to say to you all," McGonagall scolds, glaring at Harry and Ron. "The Yule Ball is approaching -- a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above -- although you may invite a younger student if you wish."*

I glance around the classroom. The girls are already giggling amongst themselves while the boys crack jokes across the room.

"Dress robes will be worn, and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then, the Yule Ball is, of course, a chance for all of us to... let our hair down. But that does not mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."*

***

Friday rolls around quickly. I weave through the greenhouse doors with my dragon-hide gloves tucked under one arm, scanning the room for my station when-

"Y/N! Over here!" Shaun waves his hand, beckoning me over, his blonde hair catching the sunlight streaming through the greenhouse glass.

He has unpacked his tools, and his gloves are already dirty.

The corners of my mouth lifted. "I knew you'd beat me here."

We turn our attention to the Bubotubers we'd been growing, where a couple of small pods are already beginning to grow.

"You know," Shaun says, "Professor Sprout says these spit if you squeeze them."

I scoff. "That sounds reassuring."

"Only if you're doing it wrong."

"How'd your Transfiguration essay go?"

He slightly scrunches his nose. "McGonagall wrote 'acceptable,'" he says, making air quotes with dirt-covered fingers.

"Ouch."

As the bell rings, I go to pack up my things. Shaun doesn't.

He keeps stacking empty trays, gathering tools, and sweeping loose soil back into a bucket.

"Aren't you coming?" I ask, tilting my head slightly in confusion.

Shaun picks up a stack of unused pots. "Sometimes I help Professor Sprout tidy up after classes."

"Voluntarily?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, the greenhouses are quieter after everyone's gone."

I hesitate before setting my bag down and stacking trays.

Shaun glances at me briefly. "You don't have to."

"Neither do you."

He looks at me for a second before smiling. "Fair enough."

We fall into a comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft rustling of leaves overhead and the faint clink of empty pots as we stack them away.

***

The next two weeks settle into an easy routine. Shaun saves me a place in Herbology, Fred waits outside the greenhouse to walk me to my next class, Harry devotes every spare moment to trying to unravel the mystery of the golden egg, and Fred and George continue testing their inventions that somehow get more destructive every time I see them.

***

"They've grown so big!" I exclaim, gazing at the fully grown Bubotuber pods that have replaced the small seedlings.

"I'd say we've done a decent job." Shaun leans against the table, resting on his forearms.

"Why, yes! Yes, we have!" I hold a pod in my hand, studying it. Suddenly, a loud clang of metal against wood makes me jump. My hand tightens around the pod, sending pus across the front of my robes and hand.

Shaun bursts out laughing, pointing at the pus sliding down my wrist.

"Oh, yeah?" I give a slight smirk before aiming the pod at him, splattering the yellow-green goo on his cheek. I cover my mouth as I involuntarily cackle.

Shaun wipes the pus off his cheek. "We're definitely losing marks for that."

"Worth it."

As I leave the greenhouse, I see Fred. He's exactly where he always is, leaning against the stone wall, absently spinning his wand between his fingers.

"You smell like petrol," he observes as I stop in front of him, holding out his arm.

"Occupational hazard," I retort as I slip my hand through the crook of his elbow.

"Since when is being a petrol station worker part of Herbology?"

I smirk. "Just shut up and take me to Potions."

***

As November gives way to December, the castle seems to develop a mind of its own. Conversations stop when someone walks by, followed immediately by whispered laughter. Every day, another pair of students appears together at meals, while someone else insists they weren't asking anyone, despite the unmistakable blush on their face. Evergreen garlands begin appearing along the corridors, and the first hints of Christmas creep into the castle.

Even the Gryffindor Common Room isn't spared. Lavender and Parvati spend evenings wondering aloud who will ask whom, Dean and Seamus take turns teasing each other over imaginary dates, and Fred and George seem to have appointed themselves experts on romance even though they offer nothing but terrible advice to anyone unfortunate enough to ask. By the following Friday, it feels like the Yule Ball is all anyone can talk about.

***

Shaun is already waiting at our station when I arrive at Herbology, carefully sorting his tools and gloves.

"You beat me again."

He gives me a coy smile. "Only by a minute."

We spend the first part of class harvesting the last of the Bubotubers, working in the same easy rhythm we'd settled into over the past few weeks.

"Seems strange that we're done with these," I say, squeezing the pod's pus into the large glass jar. I look over at Harry and Ron, their faces contorted into identical looks of disgust.

"Hey! You almost squirted me with that gross-smelling pus!" Ron exclaims loudly.

"I'm sorry, they're squirming; it's not my fault!" Harry responds, setting the pod down abruptly.

Shaun and I giggle at their messiness.

"We'll probably end up with something even messier next." He turns back to his jar.

"Knowing Professor Sprout? Definitely." I do the same.

There's a pause in our conversation. Shaun keeps his attention fixed on the jar in front of him.

Then, he suddenly speaks. "Can I ask you something?" He's still working.

"Anything."

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to the Yule Ball with me."

I blink. "Oh."

"So?" He looks up from his jar for just a second, then averts his gaze back. "Would you?"

"I'd love to."

Shaun smiles. Not big. Just enough.

Professor Sprout clears her throat behind us. "Mr. Williams, Miss Potter. Less talking, more harvesting."

He nods. "Sorry, Professor."

Shaun and I work in silence once more before class is dismissed. As we're walking through the greenhouse doors, he faces me. "I'll see you at dinner, then."

"See you then." I walk over to where Fred is. He's exactly where he always is, with that same ear-to-ear grin and mischievous glint in his eye. I beam at the sight of him.

"Ready for Potions, Potter?"

I slip my hand through his arm like always. "No, but I guess I have to go, don't I?"

As we turn a corner, I turn my head toward him. "Oh, by the way. Shaun, my Herbology partner? He asked me to the Yule Ball."

Fred's grin falters, just for a heartbeat. The mischievous glint disappears from his eyes so quickly I almost think I've imagined it.

"Did he?" And just as quickly as they went away, that normal grin and normal glint in his eyes came back. "Hope he knows what he signed up for." I bump my shoulder lightly against his arm and chuckle.

***

The only sounds in the Gryffindor Common Room are the faint sound of parchment rustling and fire crackling. I look across from my spot on the floor to Fred, George, and Lee on the couch. They're clearly not working on the History of Magic essay that they so desperately need to be doing, but instead furiously writing down the newest recipe for their Ton-Tongue Toffee. In the two chairs sit Ron and Hermione across the coffee table from each other, one grasping at his hair in confusion while hunched over a Divination textbook, while the other has blown through two subjects already. Next to me on the floor, our backs to the fireplace, is Harry, scribbling in his nearly illegible handwriting something about what the golden egg might possibly mean.

For once, I'm softly smiling through my Potions essay. A class that usually makes me sick to my stomach is now breezing by.

Hermione looks up at me from her Charms book. "You look awfully cheerful today."

I shrug. "Herbology was fun today."

"Never thought I'd hear those words," George scoffs, looking up from the ingredient list.

I give a small laugh. "Shaun Williams asked me to the Yule Ball."

"That's wonderful," Hermione says, a soft smile gracing her lips.

"Poor Shaun," George jokes.

Lee chimes in. "I knew he looked too confident earlier."

Fred taps the end of his quill against his lip, a crease forming between his brows as he stares at the parchment, as though trying to remember the next ingredient.

"Yeah, yeah. Enough about me. Have you asked anyone, Ron?" I turn towards the distraught redhead, his hair in tufts from the pulling.

"I'll get around to it," he mumbles.

"Honestly, Ronald," Hermione sighs. "It's not that hard. All you have to do is ask."

Fred looks up from his parchment.

"It's embarrassing, 'Mione!"

Fred puts his quill down and looks behind him. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet are playing Wizard's Chess and talking across the room.

He turns and gets on his knees, his feet hanging off the side of the couch, elbows propped up on the crest rail of the couch.

He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts across the room. "Oi, Angelina!"

She turns to him. Everyone turns to him.

"Want to go to the Ball with me?"

She laughs. "Sure!" She yells back.

Fred then turns around and goes back to writing. There's a moment of silence before someone speaks again.

"See?" Hermione turns back to Ron. "Easy."

As Ron and Hermione continue to bicker, I clutch my stomach as I feel a twang of hurt. Harry looked with worry plastered on his face.

"You good?" he asks.

“Yea, I’m fine. I think I just ate too much treacle tart at dinner.”

***

The dormitory is a mess of makeup strewn about, ribbon draped over mirrors and chairs, and shoes thrown absentmindedly on the floor.

"I'm so excited!" Lavender squeals. She practically bounces with excitement as she pins the final curl into her perfect bun. "Do you think Seamus will recognize me?"

Parvati lets out a loud laugh. "You look just as beautiful now as you usually do. I don't think Harry will recognize me at all!"

Hermione glances at herself in the mirror as I'm zipping her dress, trying to hide the faint upward turning of her lips. "You look wonderful, 'Mione," I gush as I stand next to her. "Viktor's going to love this blue on you."

"You think?" She covers her face with her hands, clearly trying to hide the blush on her face.

"Obviously."

I sit on my stool as I brush my hair. "Lavender, will you curl my hair, please?" She leaps over, grabs the iron from the desk, and starts sectioning my hair.

"Aren't you so excited? Shaun Williams is so fit!"

I offer a small smile. "Yeah, Lav. I'm excited."

Lavender curls half my hair when we hear a rap at the door. Parvati opens it to a smiling Angelina. Her dark purple dress falls elegantly around her.

She points to her midsection. "Have any black ribbon? I want something around my waist!"

Lavender and Parvati start rummaging through the heaps of ribbon as I look around the desk.

"I found some." I hold it up. "Would you like me to tie it?"

Angelina nods and turns around. I stand and wrap the ribbon around her waist, tying it into a neat bow.

She turns to grin at me. "Thank you so much! I'm still not done, so I'd better leave. Fred's waiting downstairs." She disappears down the corridor; the door eases shut behind her.

Without thinking, I smooth my dress and reach for my clutch, my fingers already closing around it.

"You're not leaving yet!" Lavender laughs as she holds up half of my hair. "I've still got to curl this bit!"

"Oh. Right." I set my clutch back down.

***

As I quickly cast the Undetectable Expansion Charm and slip my Discman, CD, and earbuds in, I run into Angelina and Katie Bell. "Oh, my!" Angelina says warmly. "You look absolutely stunning!"

"You really do. George told me he just let Shaun in. He's going to be swooning over you!" Katie grabs my free hand and dramatically places it over her heart.

"You both look beautiful; the twins will love it."

I hear Fred and George bickering as we descend the staircase towards the Common Room. The Common Room is loud and bustling with excitement, so much so that no one notices as Angelina, Katie, and I walk down. No one except Fred.

"No, because if we add another pinch of --" Fred looks up.

George follows Fred's gaze. "You all right?"

Fred blinks.

"Yeah."

Another blink.

"...Blimey."

I slow to a stop at the bottom step. "What?"

He tears his eyes away. "Didn't expect Potter to clean up."

I gasp. "Excuse me?"

One corner of his mouth quirks into a grin. "You usually smell like petrol."

I smack his arm. "No, I don't!"

George snorts. "Only on Wednesdays and Fridays."

I take Shaun's elbow, and his face softens. His blue eyes travel over my dress before settling on my face.

"You look beautiful."

I pull slightly on his arm. "Let's get going."

***

Shaun and I barely talk as we make our way to the Great Hall, content to take in the castle around us. The corridors feel strangely unfamiliar without the usual sea of black school robes. Silk dress robes and satin skirts swish against stone floors more accustomed to heavy wool uniforms. Students weave around one another, stopping every few feet to admire a friend's outfit or straighten a crooked collar. Laughter reverberates along the vaulted ceilings, and even the portraits lean farther from their frames than usual, eager to watch the procession of dressed-up students.

When we reach the Great Hall, we see the doors open, golden candlelight spilling through, stretching across the cold stone and making the corridor beyond feel darker than it really is. I look around until my eyes land on Harry. He stands just outside the open doors, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other absentmindedly rakes through his already untidy hair. Every few seconds, his eyes flick towards the Great Hall before dropping back to the floor as another group of students disappears inside.

I glance at Shaun apologetically. "Do you mind if I check on Harry real quick?"

"Of course, I'll wait for you inside."

I hurry over to Harry's side. "You look miserable."

"I am miserable." He smooths the front of his robes with his palm, though there isn't a wrinkle in sight, then immediately runs his hand through his hair again. He's been running a hand through his hair since we were little. Usually, it meant homework, Quidditch, or Voldemort. Tonight, apparently, it meant dancing. "I don't dance."

"Neither do half the people in there."

He watches another couple disappear through the doors. "Somehow, I don't think that'll stop them."

I brush a speck of lint off his shoulder before straightening his bow tie. "Hold still."

"You're sounding like Mrs. Weasley."

"Someone has to."

He smooths the front of his robes again. "I hope I don't step on Parvati's feet."

Music drifts through the open doors before a burst of applause ripples through the Great Hall. Harry lets out a slow breath through his nose and looks toward the doors again. This time, he doesn't look away.

"Places, everyone! Mr. Potter, please join us." Professor McGonagall beckons Harry over.

I give him an encouraging grin. "You'll do great."

"I don't believe you, but thanks."

I watch him walk away, hand already disappearing back into his hair. Professor McGonagall promptly bats it back to his side before arranging the champions with military precision.

I give Harry one last smile before slipping into the Great Hall. The warmth hits me almost immediately, along with the hum of hundreds of conversations. Shaun catches sight of me from our table and raises a hand, saving me the trouble of searching for our seats.

Shaun is already on his feet when I reach the table.

"Everything all right?" He asks.

"Yeah, Harry's just... well, Harry."

His lips curve up. "I figured. Now sit before someone steals your chair."

I smooth my dress beneath me before sitting, grateful to finally stop moving. The chair is warm from the room itself, and for the first time all evening, I feel like I can actually look around.

The familiar gray stone walls have vanished beneath a blanket of sparkling silver frost. The frost looks impossibly delicate, clinging to every archway and pillar, catching the candlelight until the entire room seems to shimmer.

Above us, the enchanted ceiling stretches into a clear winter night scattered with stars so bright they almost compete with the candles below. Hundreds of garlands woven from ivy and mistletoe crisscross beneath it, hanging low enough that they almost seem suspended between the stars themselves.

The long House tables are gone entirely. For a moment, it barely feels like Hogwarts. In their place sit dozens upon dozens of smaller round tables draped in crisp white linen, each one glowing beneath the floating candles. Crystal goblets throw little flashes of gold across the tablecloth whenever someone reaches for a drink. Silver cutlery gleams beside neatly folded napkins. Brightly wrapped Christmas crackers wait between the place settings.

Shaun notices them as well. "Think we'll survive opening those?"

"Depends what comes out."

One platter appears. Then another. Then another, until there's scarcely a patch of white linen left uncovered. Steam curls lazily into the warm air. Fresh bread, rosemary, roasted vegetables, butter, cinnamon... everything mingles together until the Great Hall smells like Christmas itself.

Shaun picks at his Brussels sprouts. "Avoiding things Professor Sprout might've had a hand in growing?"

"After everything with the Bubotubers? Absolutely."

Our conversation blends into the steady bustle around us. Someone several tables over pulls a Christmas cracker with enough force to make half the Hall jump. Bright paper hats begin appearing all around the room. Laughter rolls from one table to the next before disappearing beneath the steady hum of conversation.

Shaun continues talking. "-- and I still think Professor Sprout regrets pairing us together because we spent more time talking than working."

I laugh as I reach toward my goblet, tracing a finger around the rim before lifting it to my lips. Then, movement across the Hall catches my eye. Fred throws his head back, laughing at something George said, his shoulders bouncing with it, like they always do.

I smile before I even realize I'm doing it.

"What'd I miss?"

I glance back at Shaun.

"George's paper crown is upside down."

Shaun glances over and gives a soft huff. "That it is."

He pauses for a second before looking back at me. "I don't think he's noticed."

"He never does."

Shaun goes to pick up a Christmas cracker. "Ready?"

"I've been ready."

It explodes with a loud CRACK. Both of us jump before laughing. A puff of purple smoke bursts between us, showering the table with tiny silver stars before dissolving into nothing. Paper crowns appear in front of us, which Shaun immediately puts on.

I giggle. "It suits you."

"Why, thank you very much."

Our conversation falters as we begin eating more. I reach for my pumpkin juice and glance around once more. My eyes land on Fred.

He's already looking at me.

Not smiling.

Not staring.

Just...

Looking.

One heartbeat.

Angelina leans over to say something.

Fred turns toward her without another glance.

I blink and force my attention back to the table.

"Still worried about Harry?" Shaun asks.

"Just a little."

***

One by one, the empty dishes vanish from the table until only the Christmas crackers and half-finished drinks remain. Conversation gives way to applause as the Weird Sisters launch into a lively tune.

Shaun glances toward the growing crowd gathering in front of the band before looking back at me. "Come on, let's dance."

"I'm not very good."

"Neither am I." He grins. "We'll embarrass ourselves together." He pushes his chair back before offering me his hand.

The dance floor is already filled. Couples weave between the tables; robes swish across the floor. Lavender nearly bumps into Shaun and me while hurrying with Seamus.

"Sorry, hun!" She rushes away before I get the chance to respond.

Shaun puts one hand in mine, then looks uncertain.

"I think your other hand goes..." I try to guide his hand.

"Right." His hand settles awkwardly at my waist, and a faint flush creeps into his cheeks. "See? We're already off to an excellent start."

Somewhere between nearly colliding with another couple and stepping on each other's feet, we actually find the rhythm.

This time, he actually manages a clean spin.

"I meant to do that." He looks almost as surprised as I am.

"Of course you did."

Shaun spins me beneath our joined hands.

Fred and Angelina sweep past only a few feet away.

George barrels past just as Fred steps sideways, sending them both stumbling. As he gains his footing again, he ridiculously bows in front of Angelina, to which she loudly chortles.

Shaun quietly talks to himself. "One-two-three..."

"Are you counting?" I chuckle.

"Absolutely."

"Does it help?"

"Not remotely." He looks down at our feet, a worried expression riddles his face.

"Keep counting. It makes you look like you know what you're doing."

"That's the goal."

As the song speeds up, the couples start to spread out more. A Durmstrang boy bumps into me, sending me stumbling into Shaun's arms.

As Shaun steadies me, I glance up.

Fred is already looking at me.

He doesn't look away.

For a second, neither do I.

Angelina leans in to say something.

Fred breaks into an easy grin.

A second later, he's laughing again as though nothing happened.

I turn my attention back to Shaun.

We swing back and forth on the dance floor, getting more and more offbeat as the music grows increasingly faster. We laugh as we fall several beats behind everyone else. I feel eyes on me. I don't look back.

As the music swells to a stop, everyone applauds, and we make our way back to our table.

"See?" Shaun nudges my shoulder with the palm of his hand. "We're still alive."

I laugh breathlessly. "Barely."

I sink into my chair with a quiet sigh, my legs pleasantly sore after nearly an hour on the dance floor. I reach for my goblet, the cool glass a welcome contrast to my warm hands as I slowly catch my breath.

Around us, nobody seems interested in sitting for long. Students jump to their feet, laughing as they hurry back toward the dance floor. Before the applause has fully faded, the Weird Sisters strike up another song, the opening chords swallowed almost immediately by cheers.

I absently rub my hand over the front of my dress. The warmth from hundreds of people packed into the Hall lingers in the air, now mingling with candle wax, evergreen garlands, and the lingering sweetness of dessert. It had felt cozy earlier. Now it feels... heavy.

I don't realize I've been staring toward the doors until Shaun follows my gaze.

He sets his goblet down and leans forward slightly. "Too much?"

"I think I need some fresh air."

"Take your time."

I push my chair back, careful not to bump the Slytherin behind me, and offer Shaun a small smile.

I weave carefully between the crowded tables, murmuring quick apologies as I sidestep a Ravenclaw couple who nearly dance straight into me.

Peeves swoops beneath the enchanted ceiling, wearing three paper crowns at once, before Professor McGonagall points sharply upward, sending him cackling away.

The music follows me all the way across the Hall, echoing off the high stone walls until the melody blurs beneath laughter and applause.

My fingers curl around the cold brass handle. For just a moment, I hesitate, listening to another burst of laughter behind me.

I pull the heavy door open.

My footsteps echo across the stone, sounding strangely loud after the constant cheer.

The marble staircase stretches upward into the darkness, almost deserted for once. A suit of armor shifts with a metallic clank as I pass, making me jump before I laugh quietly at myself.

A cool draft slips through the open archway ahead, carrying the faint scent of damp stone and winter. Beyond it, the moon hangs high above the castle roofs, bathing the courtyard in pale silver light.

The further I walk from the Great Hall, the cooler the air becomes. By the time I step into the courtyard, the warmth from the Ball has all but disappeared. Moonlight spills across the worn stone beneath my feet. Somewhere nearby, water trickles softly from the fountain. The sound carries easily through the empty courtyard. For the first time all evening, the castle feels still.

I draw in a slow breath, letting the cold settle in my lungs. I tip my face toward the night sky, the chill instantly cooling my flushed cheeks. My shoulders loosen for what feels like the first time all evening.

Something cold brushes against my nose.

I blink.

Another lands on my bare shoulder.

I look up.

The first snow of the evening drifts down so lightly it seems to hang in the moonlight before reaching the ground. A fine dusting of frost clings to the edges of the fountain, the water still trickling quietly despite the cold. Snowflakes melt the instant they touch the water.

I wander toward the fountain, my heels clicking softly against the stone. The courtyard feels impossibly large after the crowded Hall.

Almost without thinking, I slip my hand into my beaded clutch, fingers closing around the familiar shape of my Discman. Nestled beside it are my Elton John CD and my earphones. Now that I'm alone, I want music.

Mr. Weasley had spent nearly an hour examining it over the summer, turning it over in his hands and asking question after question before proudly announcing he'd found a way to charm it to work at Hogwarts. He'd insisted I pack it.

"Music shouldn't stop just because magic starts," he'd said.

I untangle my earbuds, laughing when they catch on the clasp of my clutch.

A weathered wooden bench sits beneath one of the archways, already dusted with a thin layer of snow. I don't bother brushing it away before I sit.

I nestle the earbuds in my ears. Click. Silence. Then... the first piano notes.

The gentle piano fills my ears as snow gathers in my hair. I brush a loose strand behind my ear, only for another flake to melt against the back of my hand. I smile to myself, watching more drift through the moonlight before disappearing into the fountain below.

I can smell him before I can see him; the sharp and smoky lingering of spent fireworks, peppermint toffee, and cold air caught in the folds of his dress robes, touched with the faint scent of sweat.

I pause, eyes still closed. My brow furrows, and I slide one earbud out. I open my eyes and glance to the archway. The pale snow dusts his fiery red hair, bowtie slightly crooked, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as though he's trying not to laugh.

"Thought I'd find at least one sensible person escaping the Ball." Fred walks toward me and sits down.

He nods towards my lap. "What's that?"

"It's a Discman. It plays music."

He tilts his head at the vacant earbud. "How many people can listen?"

I roll the spare earbud between my fingers before holding it out for him. Our fingers brush as he takes it from me. He turns it over in his hand, studying it from every angle.

I let out a breathy laugh and take it back.

"Like this." I lean closer and gently settle it into his ear. The wire stretches between us as I shift back, our thighs brushing where we sit shoulder to shoulder.

My thumb hovers over the play button before drifting to the one beside it.

"Oh." I press rewind instead. The Discman gives a soft mechanical whir. "You missed the beginning."

He glances sideways at me. "Favourite?"

I feel my lips twitch. "...Maybe."

I press play.

The gentle, familiar piano fills my ears once more. Elton John's voice follows a few moments later, warm and unhurried, weaving together with the quiet trickle of the fountain. Without thinking, I tap my thumb against the bench, already knowing every note before it comes. I catch myself mouthing the first few lyrics and glance over.

His usual grin has softened into something quieter, his eyebrow lifting ever so slightly as though trying to understand how something so small can hold an entire song. A moment later, his fingers begin tapping lightly against his knee, almost unconsciously keeping time with mine.

When he shifts, the wire pulls taut. He stills immediately, one hand lifting to keep the earbud in place. For a moment, he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he doesn't look at me. He looks out across the courtyard instead, watching the snow drift through the moonlight as Elton John's voice carries the rest of the song.

As the last note fades, I pause the Discman. I don't take my earbud out. Neither does he. We sit in silence.

He breaks it first. "Why did you leave?"

"It was loud."

Fred nods. We sit in silence.

I break it this time. "I wanted something familiar."

His eyes stay on the snow.

I glance at him for a second before looking forward again. "Why did you follow?"

He looks down and brushes snow off his shoulder.

He shrugs. "I noticed."

"You were dancing with Angelina."

"Didn't stop me from noticing."

I stare at the snow falling softly into the piles on the ground. I look at him out of the corner of my eye. His eyes are on the fountain now.

He gives a quiet sigh. "I..."

He stops.

Then lets out the tiniest laugh.

"I nearly asked you."

I speak, my voice barely above a whisper. "I waited."

"...You did?"

I nod. "I thought you would."

I laugh once. "I only said yes because you didn't."

He turns to look at me. "So..."

His mouth parts slightly.

"...You were waiting..."

Another pause.

"...And I was waiting."

I twist the earbud wire between my fingers. Neither one of us reaches to take them out.

"I thought you'd ask." I look back at him.

He laughs. Not his usual carefree, funny laugh. A frustrated laugh. He shakes his head and looks at the sky. "I thought you'd say no."

He stares into my eyes. I don't look away. Snow settles on the bridge of his nose, melting just as soon as it lands.

He reaches for my hand, brushing my knuckles softly with his thumb. His hand never leaves me. It slides upward, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear before coming to rest against my jaw. His gaze lingers on my lips before moving back to my eyes.

I lean forward the last bit of space, my cold lips meeting his. The kiss is gentle, so gentle I almost wonder if I'm imagining it. The fountain, the snow, the castle -- all of it slips quietly out of focus.

His hand lingers against my jaw, lightly cupping it, like he's making sure I'm real.

He pulls away, his hand still on my jaw. His ears are pink from the cold. Or maybe not just from the cold. We laugh softly as we sit, foreheads pressed against each other.

As we stand, I put my Discman back in my clutch.

He takes my hand. "Definitely your best recommendation, Potter."

***

Our hands slip apart before we step through the doors of the Great Hall. Fred smiles down at me.

"Probably ought to find Angelina."

"And I should find Shaun."

I weave back through the sea of people dancing, sidestepping that same Ravenclaw couple.

I spot Shaun at a different table, talking to Susan Bones, her dark red hair in the same pleat she always wears. They're laughing. Until he sees me.

Susan glances between us before giving Shaun's arm a light squeeze. "I'll talk to you later, Shaun," she says before she leaves.

He stares at me for a second before he speaks. "I think I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That you weren't really looking at me." He laughs quietly. "A bit embarrassing, really."

I allow myself to smile before I let my lips fall again. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for liking someone."

Silence falls between us.

"Thank you," he says.

"For what?"

"For coming to find me." Shaun smiles weakly at me, giving me a slight nod. "Go"

I tilt my head. "What?"

"Go. He's probably wondering where you are."

***

The orchestra begins another waltz, and the students who have wandered outside start drifting back into the Great Hall.

Fred catches my eye from across the room.

"Potter."

I grin. "Weasley."

He offers his hand. "I believe you owe me a dance."

"Do I?"

"You've been keeping me waiting for weeks."

I laugh. "I don't remember agreeing to that."

"Oh, you did."

"... Confident, are we?"

"I've got reason to be." He raises a brow. "So?"

I look at his hand.

Then place mine in his. "I suppose I can spare one dance."

He quickly tugs me onto the dance floor, so quickly I almost bump into Lavender and Seamus.

"Sorry, Lav!" I rush away before she gets a chance to respond.

We're not on beat, but I don't care one bit.

He steps on my foot. "Sorry."

"You did that on purpose."

"Can't prove it."

I notice Harry standing near the edge of the dance floor, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Fred follows my gaze. "Found him," he says in a singsongy voice.

"... Don't."

"Oh, I absolutely will."

Fred catches Harry's gaze and gives him the biggest, most smug grin imaginable.

Harry sees the look on Fred's face and groans before Fred even has a chance to say anything.

I smack Fred's arm. "You're such an arse."

"You like it."

"...Maybe."

At first, it almost seemed good. He was charming, sweet, even. Bringing you flowers, showing up at The Wreck with that easy grin that made anyone stare.

"Look at you two," Sarah teased one night, raising a brow as she passed your table. "Didn't see that coming again." Rafe only smiled, hand sliding across your thigh under the table, squeezing like a warning.

Even the Pogues eased off. JJ gave you a really? look at first, but when Rafe started cracking jokes, dropping his temper like old baggage, they let him hover.

He played it well, better than you remembered. Like he'd studied you both, learned exactly how to make them believe he'd changed.

But you knew better.

You saw it in the flicker of his eyes when he caught you laughing at something John B said. The slight curl of his lip when JJ walked too close. The way his hand tightened on your waist just a little too hard.

And when you were alone? The mask slipped.

_________________________________________________

"You like making me look stupid?"

The question hit like a slap, sharp and sudden in the quiet of his room.

You blinked. "What?"

Rafe tossed his phone onto the bed, jaw tight. "Smiling at John B like that. While I'm sitting right there?"

Your stomach knotted. "It was a joke. He was just-"

"I don't give a fuck what it was." He stepped closer, voice low, dark. "You're with me. Remember that."

You did. God help you, you remembered.

And still, when his anger burned out and his arms wrapped around you, when his voice softened against your ear with, "You know I just can't lose you again," you melted like the fool you swore you weren't.

_________________________________________________

It started small, the isolation.

Missed group hangouts because Rafe had a surprise planned. Ignored texts because your phone died, when really, he'd shut it off. You didn't even notice at first. Didn't see how your world was shrinking until Sarah asked why you never came around anymore.

You laughed it off. Guilt tugged at you later, but then Rafe was there again, kissing your shoulder, murmuring how he just wanted you to himself for a little while. How nobody else could ever love you the way he did.

"They don't get you," he said one night, thumb stroking your jaw. "Not like I do. Not like I always will."

And part of you, God help you, believed him. Because the nights with him felt like gravity, like being pulled under by something you couldn't fight, even if you wanted to.

But then there were the other nights. The ones where you lay awake staring at the ceiling, wondering if you'd made the biggest mistake of your life. Wondering if second chances weren't for people like you and Rafe.

You thought about leaving sometimes. Packed the thought up tight and shoved it somewhere deep. But Rafe always seemed to know, always knew when you were pulling away. And he'd pull you right back, whispering promises that tasted like poison and honey.

And so you stayed.

“New partner thinks I’m an idiot.” You mumble, taking a bite from the pie and burning your tongue.

“It’s clear,” Louis said sympathetically, nodding to the far side of the restaurant.

You slid into the small booth tucked out of the way, tucking into your pizza and soda. After your first slice you noticed a carving on the table. It was your initials plus A.S. equals epic. You smiled as you remembered your previous partner Aarush Sharma. You two had been friends since you joined the force and had come to this booth almost every break hour to fill up on pizza and terrible coffee.

“Detective L/N.” A gruff voice spoke to you. Judging by the shadow he casted over you, he was a big man.

“Look if your here to buy me off or intimidate me,” you snapped, “then you can fu-” you stopped short when you looked up. You recognised the man as James Buchanen Barnes instantly. “Oh,” you sighed with relief.

“You know me?” he asked you.

“Followed the Zemo case.” you explained. He visibly tensed at the mention of Zemo. You held up your hand to calm him. “I know you’ve been pardoned.” You suddenly remembered how your conversation with the Winter Soldier had begun “wait, how do you know me?”

“I need your help,” He spoke low, just so the two of you could hear. He slid opposite you in the booth, leaning forward on the table. “Two-thousand-fifteen, August seventh you filed a report on a human trafficking ring operating out of staten island.” You began eating your second slice of pizza as he talked. “You arrested the main perpetrators, with the exception of Donnie Morris and Frank Abara. You opened an investigation on them but it went cold two months later.” You nodded along to the story. “That’s because-”

“They’re Hydra? Real names Robert Bern and Josh Smith? And the trafficking was for human experimentation?” you interrupted him. He stared at you, just about concealing his surprise. “I was a good cop.” you finished off your pizza, wiping your mouth and looking away in shame. “Was.”

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

“They threatened me.” You patted the flour off your hands and picked up your soda. “And when that didn’t work, they told my friends to stop me else their family would be hurt, so.” you slurped on your soda and stared back at him.

His piercing blue eyes were reading you like a book, pulling apart your disgust at never catching them, and trying to figure out how to use it to his advantage. He had to admit it was impressive that a normal police officer was able to get farther than he was, but you were still a normal person.

“I need to find them,” he spoke up.

“Why?” you cocked your eyebrow, soda straw still in your mouth. You had been studying his face to find any tell of malintent but the only conclusion you were drawing was that he was handsome as hell, and really good at hiding his tells.

“You don’t need to know.” he retorted. You hummed with discontent.

“See, Mr. Barnes. My job is to protect and serve. Sadly, that includes assholes.” You put down the now empty soda cup and leaned forward to match his position. “And you’ve said enough for me to arrest you under suspicion of planning to commit a crime against said assholes.” His glare hardened and his jaw tightened as he stared you down. “So please answer the question, ideally in a non-incriminating way.”

He looked and huffed, sliding back a little before fixing you with his stare again, but it wasn’t long until he was looking from his hands to the window, seemingly in defeat. “Their boss is dangerous. And I’m the one that made it so.” He forced a bitter smile finally looking back at you. “I’m trying to right as many wrongs as I can but I can’t find this guy but you.” he punctuated by pointing at you with his joined hands. You caught a glint of something metal up his sleeve that you suspect was his arm. “You came very, very close. Apparently, Closer than I thought you did.”

You mulled it over in your head for a moment before reaching into your breast pocket and pulling out your notepad. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Barnes” You looked over the restaurant between bouts of writing, talking all the while in case people were listening. “The case is closed and the records are public so everything you know is everything I know.” You quietly ripped off the piece of paper and pocketed the notebook, picking up your trash to disguise it. He took the hint and hid the paper by putting his hands down and sliding back in the booth, seemingly in defeat. “Good night, Mr. Barnes.” you said, and walked away, depositing your trash on your way out.

Bucky sat their a moment to give you a head start before stepping out himself, piece of paper in hand. As he walked home he opened the paper.

Tomorrow Seneca Village 23:35

Bucky stood in front of the plaque, mind too busy working through every horrible thing that could happen from this little stunt. He was about to run when he heard your voice. “Hey there.”

You walked over and stood next to him, stoically in your repose. You were wearing a pair of jeans and heeled boots with a fashionable jacket and a suitcase in hand. “I don't know which of us is stupider right now.”

“You could have picked a better meeting spot.” Bucky retorted, shifting uncomfortably.

“It’s horrifying,” you commented, putting the case down, Reading over the plaque. “Over two hundred lives ruined by a couple of assholes who wanted a park. Reminds me of another couple of assholes.”

“Yeah?” Bucky replied. You stood there a moment longer, thinking if you could still go back. You bit your tongue and decided having faith was the better bet.

“Burn it when you’re done.” you shot back and walked past him.

Bucky noticed the case just outside his line of vision. He picked it up and walked away from the plaque, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible despite the case not really matching his attire.

You didn’t hear anything for a couple weeks after the impromptu meeting, having handed over every piece of evidence that had been sitting in your self storage since 2015. Each minute was spent biting your nails with stress, hoping your actions didn’t come back to bite you in the ass. Then the news came on, publicizing that Robert Bern and Josh Smith had been arrested ‘after it was discovered they were connected to a human trafficking ring in New Jersey and a former operation in Staten Island.’

“Looks like somebody did your job for you.”

“Shut up, Louis.” you quip back at him, nursing a terrible cup of coffee. The restaurant was near empty aside from yourself, Louis, a trio of loud drunk women in the corner and a homeless man who had scraped cents together to buy a slice of pizza. The TV above the kitchen archway providing most of the ambiance.

“What’s got you in a mood?” he asked as he cleaned.

“Ever been ditched on a blind date? I get all dolled up,” you opened your coat to show a figure hugging dress with a low neckline, coupled with an elegant necklace. “And the asshole texts me when I’m already at the lounge saying he needs a fucking rain check.”

“Okay, well he’s an ass-”

“Right!” you exclaim.

“But you need to stop scowling before you scare off my customers.” Louis playfully chided.

“Oh, cause there’s so many of them.” you waved a hand out at the restaurant to emphasize your point. Still you leaned over your coffee to stew in your own misery. You couldn’t hear the door open over the women’s third rendition of ‘I’m every woman’ but you noticed someone slide onto the bar stool next to you. You turned your head to see Bucky looking back.

“Have I seen you here before?” Bucky said playfully.

You chuckled involuntarily and sat up on your stool. “You must be mistaking me with someone else.”

He swiveled on the stool to face you fully, leaning on the counter comfortably. “You sure?” he seemed to be playing with you, a sly smirk on his face. “Could’ve sworn I met this detective lady here who looked a lot like you.”

“Was she pretty?” You pressed, a smile now sneaking it’s way onto your face without you knowing.

Bucky looked in your eyes with a soft sincerity. “Incredibly,”

You laughed nervously as you looked away and into the pool of your coffee. “Was that before or after she helped you with your job.” You deflected.

“About that,” Bucky leaned onto the counter. He was still quiet good at hiding his tells but you got the impression he was nervous by the pause. “You gave me more than I needed so I was able to do better than I planned. I know how hard it can be to trust someone. I'm not sure how to thank you for that.”

“Take her on a date!” Louis yelled from the kitchen, looking at you two through the serving window. “She’s already all ‘dolled up’” Louis mocked you.

“Keep cleaning!” you shot back. “Ignore him. He’s just dripping with sympathy since I got ditched.”

“I mean,” Bucky started, you looked over and saw him staring at his hands with nerves as his thumbs tapped against each other. “I just wouldn’t know where to take you.” he admitted under his breath.

A question instantly plagued your mind and it demanded to be asked. “Have you not...since nineteen-fifty?”

Bucky nodded with pursed lips. “You can laugh.”

You smiled at the super soldier. “Right,” you announced, pushing yourself off the stool. “Come on, I know a great dive three down.”

“A dive?” Bucky asked in disbelief, but he was still smiling.

“Yep. Where they don’t give a shit who you are as long as you're buying.” You fixed your jacket with new found enthusiasm. “You are buying, right?”

“For a doll like you,” He stood up from the stool. “I’ll buy the bar.” he held the door as you both left the little pizzeria

“Oh honey, there’s nothing like me.” you said playfully as you stepped out the door.