Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me
⋆ pairing : cedric diggory x fem!reader
⋆ summary : you were hogwarts’ golden couple — both quidditch captains, both prefects, both hopelessly in love. until your family forced you to break his heart. a year later, the feelings are still there, stronger than ever, but so are the rumours about cho chang. when cedric is chosen as hogwarts’ champion, you finally speak to him again. not to win him back… just to help him survive.
⋆ wc : 4.9k
⋆ second chance romance, golden couple, aching to touch him / her
The first time she saw Cedric Diggory, they were only third years, barely fourteen, and it was raining. Sounds romantic, doesn’t it? Well, it wasn’t. She was in the middle of Quidditch practice, the rain was so heavy she could barely see, and that led her to crash into one of her teammates. He managed to cling to his broom; but she didn’t. She plummeted straight into the mud, crashing hard into the pitch. Every inch of her hurt, and when she opened her eyes after the fall, a boy with storm-grey eyes was crouched beside her, worry etched across his face.
“Are you alright?”
The only thing she managed in response was a groan.
“That was quite a fall, we should get you to Madam Pomfrey.”
She soon noticed that the entire Hufflepuff team had gathered around her, curious and concerned. Anyone could have stepped forward. But Cedric moved first. And because of that, one of the most fated love stories Hogwarts had ever seen truly began.
By the time they were sixteen, they were two of the school’s most outstanding students. Prefects, Quidditch captains, always at the top of their class. They were bright, determined, and the kind of couple people rolled their eyes and say “of course they’re together”. The golden students, everyone called them. But no one truly knew them.
No one saw the way she braided his hair when she was anxious about an exam, or how he kissed both her cheeks every morning at breakfast. They didn’t know about the silly good-luck handshake they had before every match, or the way they spoke for hours about their fears of failure, their doubts, their dreams — and how, with each other, none of it felt too heavy to carry. They weren’t just a couple, they were best friends, and they weren’t perfect. But they were safe, and in a world that demanded so much of them both, that was more than enough. For a time, it felt like it would last forever. They were always together. Truly in love.
Until they couldn’t be anymore.
Her family didn’t see love — they saw distraction. She still remembers that letter, and the threats written in it. They made it clear: people with her surname were expected to aim higher, to protect the family name, to never let some teenage boy soften her ambition. They called it a phase and a brief, foolish distraction. They gave her a choice, but it never felt like a choice. Not with the promises they made… not with the consequences they vowed would follow if she disobeyed, and she, ever the people-pleaser, did as they asked. She broke up with him.
It wasn’t quiet, and it wasn’t clean. Her, sobbing in the owlery at midnight, unable to form a sentence. Cedric, heartbroken, begging her to explain. She was too shattered to hold her composure, especially not when she saw the agony in the boy she loved. And when that single tear slipped down his cheek, the only thing that left her lips was, “I’m sorry.” Then she ran, because she knew she wouldn’t survive it if she saw him cry because of her.
It didn’t go unnoticed either. The next day, she didn’t sit beside him at the Hufflepuff table, her eyes were puffy, and Cedric didn’t speak with anyone for nearly two weeks. The rumours flew, ridiculous as always: cheating, competition, and even falling out of love. All of them wrong.
That was nearly a year ago.
She spent the months since pretending it didn’t matter. Her marks stayed exceptional, her Quidditch team soared, and her family couldn’t have been prouder. But nothing filled the void.
She avoided Cedric at all costs. Dodged him in corridors, woke early to skip him at breakfast, sat at the opposite end of every shared class. She was trying so hard to convince herself that it was for the best.
But the feelings didn’t fade. They simply buried themselves deep, and recently, they’ve been clawing their way back up, thanks to the castle’s favourite subject of gossip.
“Did you see him? With Cho Chang. Heard someone say she watched him practise yesterday… and they went to Hogsmeade after. You don’t think—?”
She tries to brush it off, because they’re not together and they haven’t been for nearly a year. He’s allowed to move on, but it still hurts every time she hears his name, because no one has ever made her feel something that real. She swore she’d never speak to him again — for both their sakes, and she kept her word.
Until the Goblet of Fire changed everything.
His name is called, he’s been chosen as Hogwarts Champion for the Triwizard Tournament, and her world becomes blurry. It echoed in her ears, followed by the cheers, the applause, and she blinks, trying to understand what’s about to happen. Everyone stood up around her, jubilant. She stayed seated, feeling her heart beat as fast as if it’s going to pop out of her chest. He walked forward, proud, smiling, and then, for the briefest of moments, his eyes met hers. She doesn’t know what he saw in her expression, because she doesn’t even know what she was feeling — but her hands trembled and her chest ached, so she just looked away.
The next morning, she went to the owlery, ready to send yet another glowing academic update to her family, but just as she stepped inside, something knocked into her, and she slipped. She landed hard on the stone floor. Looked up — and there he was, just like the very first time.
“Are you alright?”
His face was flooded with concern, like that day in the rain, on the Quidditch pitch. She nodded, but her throat closed up, then he offered his hand, so she took it, and when she stood, she made sure to avoid his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Didn’t see you coming.”
“No worries,” she murmured.
The silence that followed was far from comfortable. She felt his eyes on her, pleading silently for her to meet them. The tension increases, and she doesn’t know how to act, suddenly she even forgets how to use her hands, and the letter she was holding slipped to the floor. She hurries to grab it, but he does the same, so their heads collided with a painful thunk.
“Sorry!”
“Sorry!”
They both laughed. For the first time in months, she saw his smile, and it was for her. She felt like her heart could explode right there.
“Congratulations,” she said. “For being chosen.”
“Thanks. Didn’t think it’d be me.”
Another silence threatened to form, but she broke it with a question she was eager to ask.
“Are you scared?” His eyes told her everything, but still, he answered.
“Yes.” Then, after a moment… “Are you?”
The question caught her off-guard. She couldn’t answer, it felt like her voice was stuck in her throat. So she lets her eyes speak for her.
“I’ll be alright,” he said gently, trying to reassure her.
“I don’t know. No one really knows what these tasks will be, I’ve been reading about the Tournament and there’ve been deaths, Cedric. Once, the task involved a basilisk. Do you even know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”
“Not really,” he admitted. “Didn’t think I’d actually be chosen. But you’ve done your research — why?”
Because the moment she heard he’d put his name in the Goblet, her heart dropped, and even if she prayed he wouldn’t be chosen, her mind prepared itself for the worst. She had to.
“Curiosity.”
“You do know you were always a terrible liar, do you?”
Ever since that encounter in the owlery, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. His eyes, his smile, the way he admitted with complete honesty that he was afraid. It had felt like maybe, just maybe, not everything between them had been completely shattered.
A couple days later, she decided she would just carry on, with no distractions. It was for the best, but when she entered entered into the library and saw him sitting alone at a table, reading a massive tome on magical creatures, she couldn’t help but approach.
“That book’s outdated… look at the year,” she whispered. “They reclassified some of the creatures a few years ago. I’ve seen a more complete version somewhere in here. Green cover, gold edges, and a wampus on the front”.
“Thanks,” he said glancing up at her, a flicker of surprise on his face. “Would you help me find it?”
She knew she shouldn’t, because if anyone saw them together, the rumours would surely start to fly around. But it was late, the library was nearly empty, and they could always find a table hidden in some forgotten corner. So she nodded, and together they walked in search of the book.
They spent the evening writing down potential beasts Cedric might have to face as part of the Tournament. The library was already empty, and the silence between them would only break whenever they came across a promising creature, however, the tension between them was ever present. And that’s how it all began.
It became a quiet habit; studying together for hours, long after everyone else had gone back to their dormitories, surrounded by books and floating lanterns, Cedric’s scent lingering in her senses despite the respectable distance between them. She was only helping him prepare, or at least she wanted to convince herself that it was only that, because every time she caught him watching her, a knot formed in her throat, or when their knees brushed under the table, it felt like a jolt of electricity ran through her entire body.
Being near him made her feel calm, but also on edge. She longed to touch him again — to hold his hand, run her fingers through that soft chestnut hair, or feel the warmth of one of his hugs. Now, more than ever, it was impossible to keep those feelings buried, and the curiosity of not knowing if he was feeling the same way was just killing her slowly.
“Why are you really helping me?” He asked one evening, out of nowhere. She avoided his gaze, and closed the book in front of her. “You don’t owe me anything, and it’s not like your family would approve.”
She looked at him, and for a moment, she lost herself in the candlelight reflecting in his eyes and the perfect curve of his jaw.
“They won’t find out, and if they do, I’ll say I was just studying.”
“Well, technically you are. But that’s not answering my question.”
She sighed, and then let the truth slip from her lips.
“I never stopped caring, Ced. I want you to survive this.”
Their eyes didn’t part for a single second after that, and the smile he gave her in response made her heart feel warm. He dropped the quill in his hand, then slowly reached out, lacing his fingers with hers, gently and carefully, as though the touch itself might burn them both. She held his hand tightly, and wished she’d never have to let him go again.
The first task was only a week away, and their study sessions had become more intense than ever, but between books and scrolls, they began to give in to the pull between them more and more. They sat closer each time, held hands beneath the table, and Cedric made sure to kiss her cheek every time they said goodbye. Sometimes, when she managed to make him laugh loud enough for the librarian to hush them, the sound of his laughter stayed with her for the rest of the week. And sometimes, when she rested her head on Cedric’s shoulder, he made sure not to move an inch so she could stay there for as long as possible—just long enough for him to memorise the feel of her hair brushing against his cheek.
Despite that, they didn’t speak during the day. She had to be cautious, had to keep it secret, otherwise, her family would find out, and once again everything would come crumbling down. Cedric understood, so when she saw him in the corridors, he merely offered her a soft smile, though deep down she longed to run to him, to hold him, maybe even kiss him.
That evening, Cedric had asked her to meet him later than usual in the Restricted Section of the library. Apparently, Professor Sprout had secured them special permission to access books with more detailed information. When she arrived, Cedric was leaning against a wall, reading a thick volume on dragons.
“Hi.”
“Hey.” When he looked up, she noticed something had shifted in him. “Come on, let’s go in.”
He opened the door to the Restricted Section, let her in first, and closed it behind them. He muttered a simple “Follow me,” and strode quickly towards a specific set of shelves.
“Ced…” she called out, slightly uneasy. He seemed rushed.
“Dragons,” he whispered. “The first task is dragons.”
Her heart dropped. Her lips parted, and her expression turned visibly shaken.
“What…?”
“Harry told me. Apparently he saw them. But I’m not sure if we’re supposed to run from them, trick them, or…”
“They can’t expect you to fight a bloody dragon. That’d be mad if that’s what they’re asking.”
“If that’s what they want, I need to be ready. Ready for anything, to distract, confuse, defeat… I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve never even seen a dragon in real life, and I’ve spent the whole day reading stupid dragon books, trying to stay calm, but I can’t—I can’t deal with a bloody dragon. This was a foolish decision, I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t…”
He was rifling through all the books in the section when she noticed his breathing start to sound ragged. The words stopped leaving his lips, and his body began to tremble, so she quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to face her, just so their eyes could meet.
“Ced, breathe. Just breathe. I’m here. You’re okay, and you will be okay,” she said, cupping his face gently. “Look at me—everything’s going to be fine, alright?”
Cedric blinked rapidly, trying to regain control. He sank to the floor, and she followed without hesitation. Sitting face to face, she took his hands in hers and didn’t let go. His skin was ice cold.
“I’ll help you survive this, we’ll find the perfect way for you to face the task,” she whispered, watching him carefully as he worked to calm his breath again. “I’m not going to lose you. Not again.”
At that moment, Cedric looked up, and the moment their eyes met, she felt her heart pound violently in her chest. His gaze drifted from her eyes to her lips, and slowly, he let go of one of her hands and placed it delicately on her cheek, drawing closer to her face. She, too, leaned in, struggling to contain the fire that had ignited inside her. Now her breathing was as uneven as his had been only seconds before.
Their foreheads brushed, and Cedric tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, as if trying to see her better, to memorise every part of this moment. Their noses touched, and their lips were so close they could feel the warmth of the other’s breath, but neither dared close the distance. She didn’t, because she knew if she kissed him, she wouldn’t be able to stop. He didn’t, because he wasn’t sure if it was truly what she wanted.
Cedric closed his eyes, and just as he was about to erase the space between them, she pulled away. Only slightly. Just enough to stop the kiss.
“I can’t, Ced…”
“I know,” he answered, quietly, resigned, exhausted, his desire contained and unspoken.
He let go of her face, but wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into him, in an embrace that said all the words they wouldn’t speak.
“Thank you for helping me. Even with everything… thank you for not letting me go through this alone.”
She smiled and hugged him tightly in return.
“It would’ve broken my heart to know you were going through this on your own.”
Cedric said nothing. He simply held her in his arms, wishing this moment could last forever. And when he finally let go, she felt the cold return instantly—like being caught under winter snow with no cloak to protect her.
“We should keep searching,” she said softly.
“Yes. Right…”
They continued searching for information about dragons, but after that closeness… neither of them could truly concentrate.
There was less than a day left before the First Task, and she knew Cedric couldn’t be more ready for it. When night fell, she felt strange realising that Cedric no longer waited for her in the library, and that they probably wouldn’t speak again until they found out what the Second Task was about. She planned to go to bed early, but during dinner she overheard murmurs from people saying no one could find Cedric to wish him luck. Not even Cho Chang had been able to see him. So she immediately knew where he was.
The night was clear, which was rare for late November, and though it was cold, the wind blew very softly. She gripped her broom tightly, and when she stepped into the Quidditch pitch, she saw him in the distance, flying higher than usual. She mounted her broom and flew until she found him face to face.
“You’re not trying to get yourself killed before the task, are you?” she said, hoping to make him laugh. He looked at her and gave her a soft smile, then continued to look up at the sky, as if he might find answers there. “You shouldn’t be out here alone, everyone’s looking for you to wish you luck.”
“I wanted to clear my head, get away from everything.”
“Well, I suppose I’ll go then,” she said still playfully, and he responded with a soft laugh.
“Away from everything, except you… because I knew you’d find me,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. “I still remember the first time we met, right here.”
“I remember the pain… and the mud,” they both laughed, nostalgic.
“We should go down,” he said.
She followed him to one of the stands. Once there, they left their brooms aside and sat facing each other, their knees brushing.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more like myself than when I was with you.”
“You’re with me now,” she replied, trying to keep the playful tone.
“You know what I mean.” When Cedric looked at her with a serious expression, she knew it was time to stop joking. “I felt like I could do anything if you were by my side. I’ve missed this, all this time. Not just your help — you.”
She wasn’t prepared to hear that. Her heart stopped for a second, and she could feel all those repressed feelings taking over.
“I thought you’d moved on. Everyone says you and Cho…”
“No one really knows what’s going on. She’s kind and sweet to me, and I like her, just not in that specific way, simply because she’s not…”
His eyes met hers. That left her with an expression of confusion, though she knew exactly what he meant to say. Cho wasn’t her.
“Are you scared?” she asked. It was the only thing she managed to say.
“Yes, but not because of the task. I’m scared I won’t see you again.”
She felt something crack in her chest.
“Shut up, Cedric, don’t say that,” she whispered in pain. “Don’t be stupid, don’t say that, please… I already told you I’m not losing you again.”
Without even realising, she leaned towards him and held him by the shoulders. It was an impulse; the tears clouded not only her sight but her mind too. Feeling her so close, Cedric held her by the waist, pulling her gently towards him unconsciously.
“If I don’t make it through the task…”
“Shut up. You will make it. You’re Cedric freaking Diggory, the Goblet chose you for a reason. I know you’ll get through this alive, and you better, because I believe in you.”
“And that’s all I need,” he whispered, and his voice sounded like it was hanging by a thread.
She didn’t answer, just looked at him, a few silent tears rolling down her cheeks — tears Cedric made sure to wipe away. And with that, everything inside her changed completely. After months of wanting to hold him, wanting to touch him, wanting to feel like she was his again even just for a moment… she had the chance for all of it and more. They were getting closer and closer, and the freezing night began to feel warmer. When they were only inches apart, she could swear Cedric could hear her heart beating. He didn’t let go of her waist for a second, and after sharing a look heavy with emotion, she held Cedric by the neck, beginning to close the gap between them.
When their noses brushed, she made sure to be fully present in that moment she’d dreamed about so often. He leaned in, and their lips touched with hesitation, as if still asking for permission — but she made sure he knew he didn’t need it.
It was a soft kiss at first, sweet, as if they were trying to remember how to kiss each other. And once they found the rhythm, something exploded between them; months of silence, pent-up desire, pain, and repressed love. It all surfaced like a crashing wave. The kiss grew deeper, more intense, even desperate, as if they were both afraid that separating would make it all disappear. But it wouldn’t. They were there, nearly burning with longing.
Cedric slid a hand under her jumper, pulling her closer to him with urgent need, and she just kept her hands to his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. When Cedric finally moved both hands down her back, she had no choice but to sit on his lap, her legs astride him. She clung to his shirt, pulling him as close as possible, and she increased the kiss’s intensity when he rested his hands on her bum.
Their lips locked fiercely, their bodies drawn like magnets, and Cedric’s warmth clashed violently with the cold night air — yet she didn’t shiver, but only because he was there, because she was finally feeling him again. So hot, so desperate, just for her.
Cedric moaned softly against her lips when she rocked her hips hard against him, prompting her to bite his lip gently, telling him to stay quiet. She was losing control — the sweet, devoted girl vanished from her body, and in her place was someone full of desire and love for a boy. She began to leave kisses along his neck, and just when she was about to unbutton his trousers, a noise on the pitch stopped them.
Immediately, they ducked down, hiding behind the railing and trying to avoid being seen by whoever might be out there. But they saw nothing, so it remained a mystery — and a supremely annoying interruption. After catching their breath, they exchanged a look of disbelief, then smiled at the same time. She didn’t hesitate to throw herself at him in a hug. He held her by the waist, and they shared a laugh of pure happiness.
“I’ve been waiting for months…” she tried to say, but he interrupted her with a tender kiss.
“I know,” he replied, caressing her face gently and giving her a small smile. “I don’t want to lose this.”
They fell silent for a moment, wrapped in the soft breeze and the starlight. No one else in this school, or the entire world, knew what had just happened, and no one else ever would. This had been a moment for the two of them, and no one else.
“If you promise me you’ll survive the tournament, I promise you’ll never lose me again.”
“I promise I’ll make it out of this tournament alive,” he said, certain and sincere, looking at her in the eyes.
“Then I’ll make sure I never leave your side again.”
Even though it hadn’t been her name drawn from the Goblet, her stomach had been twisting with nerves since the moment she’d woken up. She had never felt fear like this before; her mind wouldn’t stop conjuring up the worst scenarios, and not even Cedric’s words could soothe her now.
Since the morning, she hadn’t been able to clear her thoughts. She knew Cedric was prepared, because they’d read every single book that might be useful, practised spell after spell, again and again. But that didn’t change the reality: in just a few minutes, Cedric would be standing in front of a real dragon, trying to steal a bloody golden egg, and there was absolutely nothing she could do but watch and try not to faint.
The stadium roared with cheers; everyone else seemed so excited they might burst. But not her, she was so worried she thought she might die.
She didn’t take her eyes off the entrance to the field. Any moment now, Cedric would appear, and when he finally did, the world slowed down. Her golden boy stepped into the arena with his head held high, gripping his wand tightly, ready to complete the task. Almost at the same time, the dragon was released — a Swedish Short-Snout. She recognised it by the silver-blue scales and the frantic, azure flames it spat into the air.
She gripped the railing tightly, praying Cedric would find a way to beat the creature quickly. As soon as the dragon spotted him, it rushed to attack him, without hesitation, and a scream tore from her throat before she even realised.
“Run, Ced! Come on, you can do this!”
Ten agonising minutes passed as Cedric tried to figure out a way to outsmart the beast. Ten minutes of ducking, dodging, hiding. Her heart was pounding, palms slick with sweat, her voice barely audible. Fear had taken hold of her body, and she was sure that if Cedric didn’t grab the stupid egg soon, she was going to break down and cry from sheer panic.
Then, he started to run — leaping over rocks, rolling away from jets of fire that nearly caught him. And when he reached a far corner of the field, he finally acted.
From there, he transfigured a massive rock into a dog on the opposite side of the arena. The dragon took the bait immediately, bolting after the illusion. Cedric seized the chance and dashed for the egg. When he finally had it in his hands, he held it up high and sprinted towards the exit, desperate to escape the nightmare.
But just as he was about to reach it, the dragon released a stream of blue fire in his direction. When the flames died down, the entire stadium saw it — the side of his face, glowing red-hot with a vicious burn.
In that moment, she wished she knew exactly how to heal that kind of injury, to erase every ounce of pain he might be feeling. And when she finally saw him make it out of the arena, the crowd exploded into cheers.
He’d done it. And she could finally breathe again.
The instant she saw him pass through the gates, she ran straight for the medical tent, desperate to see with her own eyes — to feel with her own hands — that he was still alive. But just as she was about to enter, she saw Cho Chang slip inside first. Of course. She’d forgotten.
Something inside her twisted, but there was nothing she could do about it. So she simply turned around and made her way back to the stands to watch the other champions.
She barely registered the rest of the task. All she could think about was hugging Cedric, congratulating him… maybe even kissing him out of sheer joy.
Once Harry Potter had secured his golden egg, the stands began to empty. Down below, a crowd had gathered outside the tent to wait for the champions. She joined them, just to be there when Cedric came out.
And when he did, she started clapping, cheering his name.
“Cedric, show us the trophy!” Some shouted, but he didn’t seem to hear them. He stood there, completely still, scanning the crowd.
And when his eyes found hers, he didn’t hesitate. He moved toward her with a huge smile on his face. Her heart started to race, and she thought she might burst when Cedric ignored everyone else, just to get to her.
Where’s the trophy? She hadn’t the faintest idea, because what mattered in that moment was that he just came running to her.
When he reached her, Cedric bent down, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her off the ground. She didn’t even have time to react, because all he wanted to do was kiss her, right there, in front of everyone.
And he did.
He kissed her, sweetly and tenderly, a grin tugging at his lips between each brush of their mouths. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him even closer. Cedric rested his forehead against hers, still smiling. His lips were hot, his skin marked by the dragon’s fire, and his eyes… his is eyes shone like she was the only thing he’d won that day.
And there they stood, in the middle of roaring cheers and celebration, with half of Hogwarts watching — but everything else melted away.
It was just them, holding each other in the middle of the chaos, like the world had stopped… just, and only for them.
Summary: Your agonizing courtship and Cedric’s need to spite his ex are both ailments that have a very simple cure: a fake relationship, obviously.
⤷ [1] - in which prefect patrols end with a haphazard agreement being reached.
Requested: read the request here
Pairing: Cedric Diggory x fem!gryffindor!reader
Word Count: 3.9K
A/N: I'm so sorry guys. This has been such a long time coming, I'm not sure people are even waiting for this anymore. But this is the first part and I'm thinking of turning it into a full-fledged series. Second part of the fic WILL be out as soon as I'm done exams.
—
The first few dates were bearable enough — if you squinted hard and counted the silence as a virtue.
The next few were nothing short of painstakingly harrowing. And that’s being kind.
This one, however? It made you seriously contemplate lunging over the walls of the Astronomy Tower and meeting Death, himself, halfway. Little else could offer greater reprieve, in your mind, from this.
The setting should’ve been romantic, in theory. The night was still, but not stiflingly so, and the moonlight danced around the top of the Tower teasingly, doing little to illuminate the dark. If he stepped into a crevice where the light didn’t reach his face and you tuned him out just enough, you might even call the view beautiful. But, you soon found out – only a few dates in – no view could be described as such when you have Trevor Selwyn standing next to you.
Trevor Selwyn should’ve been a perfect match, in theory. An avid member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight – there was little else that could prove more pertinent to families, like yours, with snobby ideals of purity and the measures necessary to maintain it, generation after generation – a Slytherin, an athlete (he doesn’t like mentioning that he’s a substitute player, on his best days), and a prefect. And, as you soon found out – only one date in – he’s also an utter and complete idiot.
So, you should’ve said no, in theory. Kicked and flailed your arms like a petulant child, screamed and wailed and protested when your parents proposed a courtship between the two of you. You should’ve told Trevor himself that he possessed the tact of a Cornish Pixie and the wit of the dimmest of trolls. But, as you soon found out (after the wailing episode) – absolutely zero dates in – Trevor is nothing but persistent and your parents anything but unwavering in their resolve.
“I’ve met the Minister once,” he remarks out of nowhere as he looks off, off of the edge of the tower with all the regality of an acclaimed emperor.
You hum in response. You haven’t said a word all night and he hasn’t noticed a thing.
“Granted, I was only two but I recall the Minister telling my father –”
“I think I should head back, actually,” you interrupt before the anecdote can truly begin. There are a few things you’ve learned about Trevor so far but none of them are as glaringly consequential as this: if he starts talking about his father, he won’t be able to stop. Escapades from Uagadou, his adventures in Egypt warding off curses and serpents and the magical scrolls of Machu Picchu –
“Oh,” he furrows his brow as if deep in thought and you almost laugh. That boy has never had a thought in his life.
“I don’t want to be late for prefect patrols is all,” a faux sweet lilt to your voice doesn’t do much to subdue the frown on his face.
He nods curtly. “I’ll walk you back.”
Your refusal is automatic. “I think I’ll mana–”
“It’s no problem,” he starts walking towards the stairs and you’re left with no choice but to follow.
On any other occasion, the walk would’ve taken mere minutes. The hallways would’ve been something theatrical, a soft fusion of candlelight and the streaming moonlight at this time of night. With Selwyn by your side, however, the minutes seemed like hours, and the candlelit corridors, usually golden and warm, felt like the dull glow of a waiting room. Your shoulders ached from how stiffly you held herself as each step echoed louder than the last, as if the castle itself was sighing in disappointment and disdain.
“I had an enjoyable time tonight,” Trevor started when you finally reached and you tried your utter best to hide the discomfort when his clammy hand reached for yours. He brought it to his lips and pressed a single kiss on it before you gave him a tight-lipped smile. You expect him to then turn and go, to walk back down to his own common room but he stays standing there, his face blank.
“Me too,” you smile, in hopes that this was the confirmation he was after. Another lesson you’ve learned about the boy has been this: nothing else pleases him as much as validation does.
He gives some semblance of a smile back. You blink. The next thing you know he has started to lean in and his eyes are fluttering shut and his slightly puckered lips are mere inches from yours now and the ridiculousness of it all proves too much to bear – you guffaw in the most obnoxious way possible. A mixture of anger and hurt crosses his face before he retreats and you’re unsure of how to recover.
“I’m so sorry,” you cover your mouth and try to stop the laughter. “I– I just thought of a funny joke. I’m so–”
“Fix your hair, would you? It looked atrocious today,” he quips quickly to gain control of the situation back. The last thing you’ve learned about the enigma that Selwyn is is this: his superiority cannot be challenged. If it is, he will try to establish it again – by insulting you in the most seemingly hurtful manner.
It doesn’t quite have the desired effect. You snort at his attempt and suddenly the laughter has returned. He exhales once out of his nose as he turns to go but not before calling out, “I will pick you up at the same time tomorrow night. Don’t be late.”
The laughter dwindles at the thought of enduring this again. “I’m busy tomorrow!”
“Don’t be late,” he calls again.
“Charming,” you hear someone call from behind you and you can tell who it is without having to turn and look at his annoyingly perfect face. His clever quips usually carry the extraordinary ability to irk you to no end but after the night you’ve had, they seem especially akin to knives on a chalkboard.
You can picture Cedric Diggory’s earnest yet irritating smile he seems to wear at all times, the kind that makes his honey-coloured eyes crinkle in the slightest way at the edges with no difficulty. You can picture his perfectly ironed robes, clad with pins and awards he has won over the years and his hair that falls in place like dominoes. There’s only ever one way to describe him: pristine. Always.
Though you’d never cared much to exalt him to the status of an academic rival, it’d be foolish to call him anything else. He had a way about him that reeked of complete and utter competence at everything, which indubitably invited a certain degree of resentment from everyone. You were no exception.
And not only did the universe seem keen on making an already-horrible night worse by scheduling him as your prefect patrols partner tonight, it also seemed quite keen on wanting to humiliate you in front of him.
“The gossip that you are, Diggory,” you huff with biting sarcasm as you finally turn to face him. “Using your patrols as a way to spy on unsuspecting young lovers. Classy.” The break of his grin is almost blinding and you have to avert your gaze to avoid damage to your visual field.
“Nothing else entertains me these days as much as your courtship, I’m afraid,” he jests, slipping an easy hand into his pocket. “If you need more time together, I understand. I’m perfectly capable of completing the patrols on my own tonight.”
With your face aflame, you shoot him a look and begrudgingly start walking beside him, arms crossed tightly over your chest like a shield and footsteps hitting stone a bit too sharply.
“How kind of you.” You say curtly and make it a point to walk a few steps ahead of him. He doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by it: he follows a few steps behind you, but the smugness radiating off of him envelops you nonetheless.
“You can laugh, you know,” you say again after a moment of silence. You have long-since learned that the best way to avoid embarrassment is to submit to it. You’ve been courting Selwyn long enough to know it – sheepish smiles exchanged with classmates when he pecks you on the cheek in the hallways, mortified but apologetic grimaces whenever he tries to clasp your hand in his as he walks you to your common room after supper. Judgment – if it must be served – is best served plainly. Overtly.
He shakes his head in amusement as he finally catches up and walks in step with you. “Now, why would I laugh? That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”
“That was humiliating,” you mutter under your breath before you can stop yourself.
Cedric’s amused smile wavers as he glances at you with something you hope isn’t sympathy. And as much as you hate to say it, it wouldn’t be something you would put above him – for all the determined rebuttals and rivalries in class, Cedric has only ever been infuriatingly kind. “I think Selwyn might be a tad bit more humiliated than you, [Y/L/N].”
“Good. If he ever tries to kiss me again, I might hex him into oblivion and end up as a headline in the Daily Prophet.”
His amusement returns and you’re glad. You’re not sure how to interact with him beyond the usual teasing remarks. “Would it be in bad taste to say that I'd quite want to see that?” His smile only grows when you roll your eyes. “Will you be doing that tomorrow night then? Shall I call the reporters?”
You make a face. “You won’t be grinning that wide when I send a dementor after you from Azkaban, Diggory.”
“Send one after Selwyn. He’s in need of a good kiss.”
Your lips twitch at the joke and Cedric notices the slight movement. You press them together before a full-fledged smile can appear on your face and Cedric revels in it. “You’re not funny.”
“Yes, I’m sure Selwyn’s funnier,” Cedric teases.
“Still not funny.” You take a few quicker steps to walk in front of him again, having had enough of his teasing for the night.
He catches up again and has no particular difficulties keeping up, no matter how much you try to hasten your steps. “Forgive me for prying –”
“I won’t.”
“But, why Selwyn?” The question’s sincerity catches you off-guard.
“What?”
“I just mean – I find it hard to believe that you’re… devoid of options. So…why him?” He picks his words carefully, as if he’s weighing them in his mouth before letting them fall out. And perhaps it was due to the late hour or the undeniable warmth that Cedric’s eyes perpetually hold, but you actually considered giving him a sincere answer.
“He’s–” you pause as you vow to yourself this would be the last display of vulnerability Cedric would be getting from you tonight. Your voice drops despite yourself, and you find your fingers fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. Something about Cedric’s quiet attention makes the truth feel heavier than usual. “He’s my parents’ choice. They want me to graduate with a prospect secured.”
His eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “If a courtship is what you’re after, I’m sure you’d find better prospects in – pardon my bluntness – anyone else.” His teasing cadence has dropped altogether now and you wrinkle your own eyebrows in confusion as you consider the notion that Cedric might actually be trying to help you.
“It doesn’t matter who–” you pause again. “I don’t plan on marrying him, Cedric.”
Cedric frowns.
You go on, “I’m only ‘courting’ him until graduation to subdue my parents. I won’t marry him so it doesn’t matter who it is.” You squirm in guilt as Cedric stays frowning. “And I realize it’s cruel to string him along – I do – I just – I don’t know what else to do.”
Cedric nods after a while – a slow, courteous nod that indicates he understands but wholly disagrees with whatever you’re saying. It’s a nod you’ve seen from him when he proposes a rebuttal to whatever alternate answer you’ve proposed in class, an alternate solution to a problem and admittedly, a much more pragmatic one. He opens his mouth to voice it before the sound of giggles fill the empty hallways from around the corner.
You both exchange a prefectly look with each other, acknowledging the obvious student out of bed, awaiting a scolding for being out past curfew. Before you two can approach to see who it is, they turn the corner themselves.
“Evelyn,” Cedric breathes out in surprise as your gaze lands on the familiar brunette-haired girl in your year, her hands firmly clasped in Damien Avery’s, matching love-sick grins plastered on both faces and lipstick stains on the latter’s neck. With their hair dishevelled and robes askew, they blink in stunned silence.
You purse your lips as you look between the two, realization cresting at once. Though Cedric’s dating life was never a particular topic of interest, you immediately recognized the girl as his girlfriend, Evelyn Waters.
Well, ex-girlfriend as of two weeks ago.
“Ced,” his name falls from her smudged, lipstick-stained mouth softly, her eyes widening slightly. She hastily straightens out her robe and runs a hand through her hair. “I–”
Cedric clears his throat awkwardly as he shoots Avery a lingering glare. “It’s an hour past curfew–” He manages to get out, his voice unbelievably even. He keeps his eyes on Avery, not sparing Evelyn another glance.
“I’m a prefect, Diggory. I think we’re fine,” Avery dismisses, stepping around him. He tugs at Evelyn’s hand.
Cedric steps in front of him again, towering over the shorter boy with ease. “Forty points from Slytherin,” he says simply, his eyes uncharacteristically stoic.
Avery scoffs and looks at Cedric in disbelief. “Yeah?” He sneers. “Are you going to take another forty for theft?”
Cedric exhales heavily through his nose at the implication. The night air has suddenly chilled and the tension is so thick, it makes it hard to breathe.
“You know… considering…everything.” Avery smirks, gesturing subtly to Evelyn’s hand he still has clasped within his own. Evelyn watches the exchange silently.
“Considering everything, Avery,” you finally find your voice in the uncomfortable silence and step forward. “I’ll be taking another hundred points away from Slytherin for your misuse of prefect privileges. Expect to hear from Professor Snape tomorrow when I formally file a complaint.”
Avery turns to you, his goblin-green eyes staring into yours for a minute before he narrows them. “This isn’t your fight, [Y/L/N]. Stay out of it.”
“I think you,” you jab a hard finger at his chest, pushing him away slightly, “should stay out of the hallways after curfew. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” You grab Cedric’s arm and tear him away from the pair.
He doesn’t protest when you begin to lead him down a random set of stairs to get away from the scene of the stiff confrontation. Cedric walks a few steps behind you wordlessly as you chance periodic glances to make sure he’s still following. After a few moments, you slow your gait so he can catch up with you.
“Hey,” you jostle him out of his thoughts which seemed to have permanently etched a furrow in his brows as he shuffled his feet across the stone floor.
He sighs, running a quick hand over his face and then stuffing it back into his pocket. “You didn’t have to enjoy that quite so much.”
You frown. “Enjoy what?”
“Do you not normally enjoy my humiliation?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice, but the humour stops short of his eyes. You can tell his mind is still stuck elsewhere, replaying that scene over and over.
“I’m not a sadist like you,” you quip.
He offers you a quick smile as if to confirm receipt of your well-intentioned humour, but doesn’t say much else. You walk in uneasy silence once again.
“She’s an idiot,” you say finally. “Just– for the record.”
“Hm.” He smiles wryly again but his eyes hold a heaviness that you don’t like. You can tell the breakup took a greater toll on him than he has let on the past few weeks. And you’re not exactly sure why that weighs down on your heart.
“Seriously, Diggory,” you sigh. “She’s an idiot for breaking up with you and she’s an idiot for getting with Avery.”
He exhales a quiet laugh. “Yeah.”
The heaviness still hung in the air despite your attempts at trying to provide Cedric an outlet to let out his frustration. You scoff internally at his staunch unwillingness to talk ill of anyone – not even his ex-girlfriend who moved on from him in a blink of an eye. You think again of Cedric’s genuine interest in your ‘Selwynian’ plight. You sigh once before shaking your head. Were you really about to help Cedric Diggory?
“You know what? You need to stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Acting like it doesn’t bother you,” you hit him lightly on the arm. “It bothers you, right?”
He holds your gaze for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Suppose it does.” He admits quietly.
“Do you want her back?”
He frowns at the question. “What–”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” he breathes out after a while and looks away, as if embarrassed at the confession. You can tell he’s fidgeting with his pockets nervously.
“Then, make her jealous,” you say. “I saw how she was looking at you. She knows she made a mistake. But she won’t admit it because that’s not how it works. Make her jealous and she’ll have to admit it. It’ll get it out of her.”
He looks at you in amusement. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to help me or sabotage me.”
You scoff. “Accept the generosity before I change my mind.”
He shakes his head with a bitter smile, clicking his tongue against his teeth quietly. “That won’t work, anyway.”
“It will,” you assert. “Trust me, Diggory. It will.”
He shakes his head again. “I don’t even know how to–”
“Date someone else,” you supply easily.
“I don’t like anyone else.”
You shoot him an unimpressed look. “No shit. We already established that you still like Evelyn.”
“So, I ask out a girl I’m not actually interested in?” He asks in disbelief, discomfort evident on his face.
“Yeah,” you shrug.
He frowns and pauses, glancing at you with confusion. “That’s cruel beyond belief, [Y/L/N].”
His admonition makes you pause, too. The familiarity of the proposal strikes you at once. It was exactly what you were doing – stringing along a clueless Selwyn until graduation and then breaking his heart without a second thought. The cruelty of it all had always been a nagging thought – but its noise had been distant and dull. It was now ringing in your ears however, your skewed perception of morality hitting you at once.
“It’s not– cruel.” You try to tell yourself, more than him. “It–”
“It’s heartless,” he says again, matter-of-factly. “This, and what you’re doing to Selwyn, by the way.”
You sigh at his moral policing. You knew he was right, but Selwyn was a problem for another night.
“Fine,” you relent. “How about a girl who agrees to be your fake girlfriend?”
He scoffs lightly. “If that were so easy to find, wouldn’t you have gotten a fake boyfriend already?”
You both stop walking at the same time, your footsteps coming to a screeching halt simultaneously. It was almost as if Cedric’s words had materialized and turned into physical roadblocks. His gaze slowly turns to you, honey-brown eyes landing on yours, but you’re already watching him in stunned realization.
“[Y/L/N] –” he begins thoughtfully.
“No. No. Absolutely not.” That look in his eyes — the one like he’s already decided. Like he’s already seen this through to the end. It makes you nervous in a way you can’t name. You start walking ahead of him rather quickly but he catches up to you with no difficulty once again. His long strides match your pace perfectly.
“This was your idea–” He tries to reason again, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing off the walls as he chases after you with a walking stride.
“My idea– was not for us to do that–” you huff out as you keep up the pace, unrelenting.
He finally catches up to you and reaches for your arm, his hand closing gently around your elbow. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through you, halting your steps more effectively than his words ever could. “It makes sense.”
You blink, momentarily thrown. “No–”
“You won’t have to be needlessly cruel just to keep a prospect around–”
“Cedric.”
“And I won’t have to heartlessly pretend to like a girl who doesn’t know I’m pretending,” his hands find your shoulders. “It makes sense. You know it does.”
“I won’t–”
“And no more nightly dates with Selwyn,” he interrupts. “No more dodging his kisses.”
That finally shuts you up. You shake your head though you can’t find the words to protest anymore. Cedric decides to sweeten the deal further.
“No life sentence in Azkaban, either.”
“Shut up.”
His lips tug upwards slightly and your eyes can’t help but catch on the movement. You let your eyes roam over his face — annoyingly symmetrical, irritatingly warm — and suddenly it hits you how easy it would be to fall into this lie. How dangerously tempting it is to pretend.
“No one would even believe it,” you say weakly. “We hate each other.”
“You mean you hate me?” He smiles dryly. “Because I don’t recall ever hating you.”
You avert your eyes before you start tracing his smile lines again with your gaze. “I just mean– we’re always at each other’s throats.”
“That makes it more believable, don’t you think?”
You shake your head, closing your eyes. “It’s a bad idea–”
You don’t get to finish your sentence before a familiar owl flies overhead and perches itself on the ledge next to you, clutching a letter. It doesn’t take long for you to realize who it’s from – the intricate green envelope and Selwyn family crest catching your eye immediately.
Cedric raises an eyebrow as he holds back a smirk. You grumble under your breath before plucking the letter from the owl begrudgingly.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” He questions as he stifles a smile.
“No,” you huff in annoyance. “He … sends these every night. A ‘goodnight poem’, he calls them.”
Cedric doesn’t say anything, his grin already revealing he knows what your next words will be.
You glance at the letter again — Selwyn’s cursive looping like a snake about to bite. What were you even doing?
You sigh, knowing exactly what this meant. “Fine. Let’s do it.” You cast the ignition spell, watching the green wax seal curl into smoke. “Let’s date.”
He blinks. “Wait — really?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
His grin returns, slow and lopsided. “Pretend to date,” he corrects.
“What?”
“We’re pretending,” he says cheekily, your cheeks aflame at his teasing cadence. "Don’t fall in love with me, [Y/L/N].”
With a determined roll of your eyes, you turn on your heel. “As if, Diggory.”
Love at first sight! George and Fred x reader. The reader's school (your choice) got to attend hogwarts during the triwizard tournament and George and Fred falls for her first sight and over time they got closer.
*Combining this req with one for @secret-adri
Beauxbatons
(Fred & George Weasley x Beauxbatons! Reader)
‘The first time Fred and George see you during the Triwizard Tournament, they know they’re done for.’
The first time the twins see you, the Great Hall becomes much more exciting: not just because of the upcoming Triwizard Tournament and their plans to get past Dumbledore's age-line — it was you that had made the room light up, according to Fred and George Weasley.
You stepped through the enormous oak doors of the Great Hall with the rest of the Beauxbatons girls, blue silk catching the candlelight, your posture a little less poised than the other girls; where you were wide-eyed and amazed, your peers seemed off-put by the cold, uninviting stone. There was something different about you that caught their eyes: maybe it was the fact that you didn't look half as enthralled to be there as your peers, but whatever it was, you held the twins' exceptionally short attention spans for a short eternity.
Fred thought he'd noticed you first, eyes glued to you as you followed your classmates through the hall.
“George,” he muttered, elbowing his twin in the ribs without looking away, “I’ve just had a life-changing experience.”
“Well,” George said after a beat, “that’s inconvenient.”
“Why’s that?” Fred looked over to his twin to find that he was already slack-jawed, unblinkingly watching you, too.
“Because I was just about to say the same thing.”
You didn’t notice the pair at first. Hogwarts, though smaller than your own school, was overwhelming in a way Beauxbatons wasn't: louder, messier, more alive. You liked it immediately, though your classmates often turned their noses up at what they perceived to be a lack of order, of regulation. To you, though, life there felt less like a performance and more like a place where things happened.
Of course, you were in awe of the stories you'd heard about Harry Potter, and were keen to find out more about life at Hogwarts. So, your first morning there, you headed up to the castle (alone, because your classmates weren't keen on breakfast after the "vile" dinner) and rushed up the stairs of the Main Entrance. Unfortunately, you were a little too hasty, and you tripped on a loose cobblestone — one that all Hogwarts students knew to avoid.
Your balance tipped as you went flying forward, books threatening to slip out of your arms, but you didn’t hit the ground; you wondered if perhaps this staircase had been the site of so many fatalities that it had been enchanted, but when you looked to where you were being held, you saw that two long arms were supporting you on either side.
“Well now,” a voice to your left mused as you were tilted upright, “enjoy your trip?” Two identical —though admittedly intoxicating — laughs rang out on either side of you.
You glanced from your left to your right: two identically handsome faces towered over you. Two sets of red hair with matching straight, white grins that were bordering on cocky.
You blinked and furrowed your brown. “Did I hit my head...?”
The boy on your right broke into a grin. “Is that the start of a pick-up line?”
"Er— no, it's just that you're—" you paused; their eyebrows raised in amused anticipation." You straightened out quickly, flustered by the lingering hands on your waist, and brushed down your uniform. “Sorry, I didn’t see the step—”
"No one ever does," one said.
"Not until it's too late, anyway. But we saved you on this occasion," the other replied.
You smiled, enjoying the way they ping-ponged conversation between each other. "Identical twins?"
“Fred,” nodded the boy on your left, offering a hand to shake.
“George,” said the one on your right, doing the same. You noticed that his nose was slightly more straight than his brother Fred's, who had a little ski-slope at the end of his.
You hesitated— then shook both of their hands at the same time, one in your left and one in their right.
“Y/N,” you said. “From Beauxbatons.”
“We gathered,” Fred laughed lightly, eyeing your slightly pompous uniform. “Though you don’t quite fit the mold...you're not French, are you?"
You shifted a little uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how stupid the hat looked. "No, my parents sent me there because they work in France, now. I was supposed to come to Hogwarts but we moved."
"Well, that sets you apart. That and the fact you aren't a grumpy prat.”
“Is that a compliment?” You smiled.
“Definitely”, they said in sync.
They started showing up pretty regularly after that— whenever they could, really. At first, it seemed like coincidence: running into them outside the Great Hall; sitting across from them in the library, where they whispering far too loudly to each other, throwing glances your way as if to invite you over; offering commentary on Hogwarts traditions like they were your personal tour guides.
“You’ll find,” George said on one such occasion, walking backward in front of you as you crossed the courtyard, “that Hogwarts has a certain...charm that Beauxbatons lacks.”
“Oh yeah? What's that?” you asked, smiling.
Fred tripped his brother up and joined you at your side, taking your books from your hands. “Us, for starters.”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips gave your amusement away. “There are boys in my school, for your information.”
"Yeah, but they're not us," George quipped, dusting himself off and rugby tackling his twin.
They were relentless in a way that should have been annoying. And yet they made you laugh when you didn’t expect it; pulled you into conversations you hadn’t meant to join; treated you like you belonged there— not as a guest, but as a part of their little duo. It was unsettling how quickly you fell into them, and, frankly, a little addictive.
One evening, you found yourself sitting with them by the Black Lake, the sky painted in deep purples and golds.
“You’re quieter than usual,” Fred noted, tossing a stone into the water.
“Am I?” you absentmindedly asked.
"Definitely," George replied, sitting up and brushing a stray hair from your face. "You're usually annoyingly talkative," he joked.
You hesitated, then, softly confessed, “I didn’t expect to like it here this much. I'm worried I'm going to miss it when we go back to France.”
George’s expression softened, just a fraction. “Hogwarts has that effect.”
You shook your head. “No. I mean… I didn’t expect to like the people.”
Fred exchanged a glance with George. “Careful,” he said. “We might start thinking you’re fond of us.”
You looked between them. "And what's wrong with that?" Your stomach flipped a little. “Maybe I am,” you admitted quietly. "Fond of you, I mean."
For once, they didn’t have a clever response ready, they just pulled you back onto the warm grass to lie between their enormous frames.
From then on, you noted their fondness through their actions: George saving you a seat without asking; Fred pretending not to notice when you beat him at Wizard Chess; the pair of them walking you back to where the Beauxbatons carriage was stationed, lingering a little longer than usual before saying goodnight; and, perhaps most importantly, the way they looked at you like they’d decided something about you and them.
The first time your mutual crushes became truly undeniable was during the Yule Ball. You hadn’t planned to go with anyone, but, somehow, you ended up with two dates. Girls around you eyed you enviously at the punch-table, and you stepped backward behind the twins' frames, hiding yourself.
“This feels unfair,” you muttered, smoothing your dress.
“How so?” George asked, adjusting his bowtie.
“Two of you, one of me," you sighed, craning your neck upward to make eye-contact. "Some of the girls don't even have one date, you know? It feels selfish to have two!”
Fred scoffed. “Well, too bad we don't want to go with anyone else.”
"Yeah, their fault for being boring," George joked.
You blushed at the awareness of others' eyes on the three of you, and you hated that the twins could probably see your reddening face.
“Relax,” George said, rolling his eyes and proffering up his left arm.
Fred offered his right arm, mirroring his twin. "Look, you need to be flanked by a Weasley on each side, otherwise you might trip—again." He shot his twin a knowing smile, and you laughed despite yourself as you took an arm in each of your own.
Dancing around the glowing hall, music swelling around you, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the tall windows: stood between them, you were smiling in a way that you hadn’t in a long time. You looked like you really belonged between the pair of them.
hiii!!! can i request a yule ball fic with oliver wood???
perhaps something related to him asking reader to be his date?
(adore your work btw 🤍🤍)
"ʏᴇ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ?"
Synopsis: Everyone's getting struggle in finding a date for the Yule Ball, but for Oliver? Oh, he already got his eyes on someone far longer than the Yule Ball. The only problem is how he's going to ask her out.
Pairing: Oliver Wood x Ravenclaw!fem!reader
A/N: Let's just pretend that Oliver is in the same age as Cedric, alright?
The buzz the Yule ball made was both an excitement and frustration to all students. Depending who you ask. Getting outfits? Getting a date? Figuring out how to dance? Not everyone is good at that.
For Oliver? He couldn't care less. He's more bummed that Quidditch practice is unable to take place because of that Tournament. What better more than Quidditch? Totally, not because he's chickening out from asking somebody.
He was hunched over in a table in the Gryffindor common room one weekend, drawing and writing Quidditch tactics for something that definitely won't happen this year, the last weekend before the Yule Ball, before two crackheads decided: hey! Let's go annoy Wood!
Fred and George took the liberty of sitting at the two empty seats with smirks on their faces, eyes definitely teasing. "Ye awlright there, Woody Pecker?" Fred greeted with an awful attempt in Scottish accent. "Already have a date to the Yule Ball?" George ask.
Now he can answer this wisely and say yes to be left alone, or say no and be teased. But before he could say anything, Fred answered for him. "Don't do that George, you might hurt his heart!"
"Alright, what do you two want?" Oliver sighed as he set down his quill. "Just to know if anyone got the spot next to ya. Maybe we could help get ya a pretty lady!" Fred cheerfully answered like he just thought of a world wide solution to Oliver's love life, George just nods so slowly it's kind of suspicious.
"No."
And just like that, the twin's plan couldn't go on.
But the thing is... It's not like he doesn't want to go to the Ball, this is his last year, might as well not think about Quidditch (very hard to do) and just have fun. But the date part? He doesn't know about that.
Whenever anyone close to him mention something along the lines of "date" and "Yule Ball" and "asking my crush out" one name comes to mind.
Y/n Tyres. The Ravenclaw Prefect. The sassy, no rubbish girl. But that's the thing, she's sassy. Not the cute type, it's the intimidating type.
And he understands how a girl is, you're either you're their type, or not at all. And this being his last year? He doesn't want to get heartbroken. He might be drinking fruit punches instead of dancing that night.
But seeing that Fred and George already have a date, Cedric too, even Neville got one. What could hurt?
It's not hard to know Y/n's schedule, just ask Cedric and he'll tell you what time she's free. He's kind like that. And also because he knows Oliver desperately needs this.
At rhe courtyard, Oliver found her light reading a book, she was alone, probably because her friend Rebecca was with her boyfriend. Yes, he knows. Rebecca knows about his little... Admiration.
The soft green grass almost blended in as Oliver approaches. She almost didn't paid it any mind until a two feet was planted firmly in front of her.
When she did look up though, Oliver's mind went blank.
"Can I help you?" She asks in that cool voice that will absolutely fry you if you're messing with her time. So like a wise man, he made up something in that Quidditch filled mind of his.
"I uh... Need a book. For Astrology. I was hoping if I could borrow some from you." Wow, that went smoother than he thought.
Her eyes softened a bit as she nodded. Silently, she reached for her bag and took out a small book and handed it over, then going back to her light reading.
Oliver walked away there so dazed, disappointed and pale that someone took notice. "Ye alright?" One asked. Oliver couldn't even answer that eith how fast his heart is beating and how he couldn't wrap his mind how he turned his opportunity to rubbish.
Maybe next time.
But next time couldn't come faster.
It's Thursday now. Rumor has it that Y/n was going alone in the Yule Ball because all the boys who fancy her couldn't grow a pair.
Now Oliver is in his dorm, trying to figure out a way to make him have courage to just ask the girl out!
Maybe at lunch? Too many people. Dinner? Couldn't risk crying to sleep. At free period? Wouldn't be able go think properly.
Just when?!
He spent almost all day mulling over that stupid simple question. Mind present and not at the same time. Quidditch was supposed to be the only thing in his mind, why the hell is Y/n in it too. Well, that's not her fault anyway. And if that's so, what a beautiful thought to have.
Oliver was day dreaming until when he turned to a corner, he bumped into someone, making them drop all the books in their hand. As he was helping them pick it up and muttering an apology, Y/n walked past.
Oliver abandoned that kid so fast and caught up to her. "Tyres!" He called, making her turn around. Ah, he must be returning the book. The thought made her happy, she likes it when people return things like normal people.
She really hopes that the spine is not damaged too much, she wants to keep a good reputation on Madam Pince. It makes borrowing books much easier... Now come to think of it, Y/n thought that Oliver is just alk about Quidditch, no care for academics at all... So maybe she shouldn't get her hopes up?
Oliver, with Y/n just staring at him made him sweat. Holy crackers, he has never been this anxious even before games. He wonders what she's thinking. Does she look like a pimp? Maybe an idiot?
Just say it man!
“Right, so... I was thinkin’." He's trying so hard to sound casual. He's failing. "About the ball. Not the Quaffle—though, honestly, they should consider enchantin’ it to glow for night games, don’t you think? Anyway—the ball. The Yule one.” He really wants to smack himself in the face because what the hell is he saying.
Y/n blinked oit of her own daze, zoning in and only hearing about half of what he said. About enchanted Quaffle? Or the Yule Ball? This man is confusing...
Oliver's hands is sweating, fidgeting, and trying to grab anything but her hand. He wants to shrink. Like... Actually shrink.
But you know what? Might as well have something funny to say to his kids one day.
“I’d rather fancy goin’, since this is my last year... But not just with anyone. Thought maybe... if you’re not already goin’ with some charmin’ Ravenclaw or mysterious Slytherin..." She's rather popular to those houses you know. Gryffindors don't really like feisty ones. "You might consider goin’ with me? I promise I’ll try not to talk about Quidditch the whole night. Just... maybe half.”
He managed to whip up a boyish grin that looks convincing enough.
In Y/n's mind, she now understands that it's for the Ball. She doesn't think she can enchant a Quaffle if that's what he's talking about. Plus, she's really honored, she almost took herself to the Ball and just drink whatever drink there was and dance with Rebecca, she guess Oliver here is a good change.
She slowly nod. "Sure. I'd like that." She answered.
Oliver almost jumped with joy. But of course he didn't, he'd do that later. A grin couldn't help but crawl it's way to his face as he nod himself. That felt like the world just eased off his shoulder.
"Alright. I'll see you at the Ball, yeah?" He said as he walks backward. "Sure." She answered simply.
She saw how Oliver ran with a happy bounce on his steps as she practically felt the joy coming from him.
Then she remembered her book.
"About my book—!"
Guess who got sick and is banned from using a phone for 2 days? ME!
Don't worry guys, I'm fine and I am recovering, but this is the shortest out of the 6 fics that is pending in my brain so I think it's best to give you guys this.
With me here, I promise, Oliver Wood will never run out of love.
Thank you for the darling who requests this, you answered prayers of many.
Warnings: swearing, talks of sex, reader is a muggleborn, reader is stubborn, reader isn’t in a specified house, so much longer than I expected it to be, smoking (not reader), drinking (not reader), trauma, allusions to Mattheo’s physical and mental abuse, talk of death, canon-level violence, one line at very end that can be interpreted to either pets or kids so even those who don’t want kids can read
Mattheo Riddle was untouchable. Ever since he was eleven, he had known he was the one at Hogwarts to be feared. It was a burden no eleven year old should have to go through, but if Harry Potter could carry the fight for the good of the Wizarding World on his shoulders, then Mattheo could carry the bad
Just as his father had, he had formed a group of inseparable friends who stuck with him and seemed to darken the halls when they walked through
He began smoking at twelve. Contrary to what everyone thought when the blood appeared on the wall hailing the horrors of the Chamber of Secrets, Mattheo was more jealous that his father had shown up and spoken to Harry and not him. He didn’t have time to worry about fulfilling everyone’s nightmares. They already skirted around him in fear – why should he waste his time trying to convince him that he wasn’t the one petrifying mudbloods?
When his cigarettes weren’t doing it anymore, Mattheo began drinking at thirteen. It wasn’t like his friends weren’t doing it – hell, Enzo was one of the heaviest drinkers of their entire friend group and Theo always had his lighter on him
Mattheo lost his virginity at thirteen to a seventh year girl
He continued this trend of smoking, drinking, and fucking all throughout the years. It became common for him and the rest of the Slytherins to sit in the back of the class, smoking or muttering annoyed comments. When they were younger, the professors would try to give them detention for it, but Draco would just make a remark about messaging his father or Theo would keep direct eye contact with the professor as he kept smoking. Needless to say, nothing changed. If they were actually issued detention (most likely by McGonagall) they just wouldn’t show up. (After McGonagall once cornered all of them in the Great Hall and levitated them out to serve their detention sentence, they all got a bit more respectful in her classroom. That didn’t stop them from doing it to the other teachers. Snape, for example, hardly batted an eye)
Somehow, this didn’t impact their Quidditch playing. Mattheo had joined the team in his third year as a Beater and he actually really enjoyed the game. Flying allowed him to leave his troubles on the ground and while pulling himself out of bed at the crack of dawn just because they wanted to stick it to Oliver Wood was unfortunate, he was a fucking good Beater
There was a couple of girls he would keep around every so often who didn’t mind being in his bed before being tossed away, but inevitably, Mattheo would get irritated by their claims that they were the one to tie down the son of the Dark Lord. That’s all it ever was, wasn’t it? He was the Heir of Slytherin, son of You-Know-Who, the next Riddle… never just Mattheo
He did enjoy Professor Lupin to an extent. The man never pushed him to do anything, which he was thankful for, especially because he knew what would come out of the closet if his Boggart was released. The professor even gave him some chocolate after that class
Of course, his life wasn't as miserable as one may make it out to seem. He had a good group of friends who he genuinely was close to, no matter the social expectations of their parents. They would all lounge around the Black Lake and Enzo would throw a Quaffle up and down in the air as Draco laid in Pansy’s lap and Blaise and Mattheo smoked. Daphne Greengrass would inevitably join them, complaining about some professor and Theo would somehow incorporate a lewd remark in her direction, smirking
It was one day like that when you entered his life. Mattheo was lighting another cigarette. It was dangling from his lips and his hand was curled around his lighter, trying to get it to spark. His eyes were downcast, focused lazily on the light, when he heard a scoff. Theo’s snicker reached his ears just as his gaze flicked up. You were walking past with a gaggle of your friends, looking down at him from where he was seated. Disgust laced your stare
Mattheo had already been having an unlucky day. Maybe he would’ve let it go on a good day, but he had gotten up late so there wasn’t any coffee left in the Great Hall, Flitwick had then called him out in front of the class, he had noticed a tear in his Quidditch robes, and now his lighter wasn’t working. “Oi! L/n,” he called out, motioned to Theo for his lighter. “What’s with the pissy face? It doesn’t suit you.” He caught Theo’s lighter and flicked it open, sucking in a cloud of nicotine
Your friend grabbed your arm, but you were not known to back down when it came to your opinions. “My problem, Riddle?” you asked, turning around on him. “Is that we’re here in this magical world, practically a utopia, and you’re fucking it up with your smoking.”
Everyone around you stilled.
Oh, shit. Mattheo couldn’t help the wicked grin that curled onto his lips. He slowly stood up, cracking his back as he did so. “Is that it?” he asked, still smirking. Blaise tried to cover his laughter at how terrified your friends looked
Mattheo didn’t know if the reason you weren’t terrified like your friends was because you were dumb or a mudblood. He thought that all muggleborns should have been told about his lineage. Maybe you had missed the memo or didn’t realise the gravity that came with the Riddle name
“Yeah, that’s it,” you replied, placing a hand on your hip. “Smoking’s really bad for you, you know that, right? This has been known for years now.”
Mattheo scoffed and took another drag of his cigarette. “Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced. “Newsflash, sweetheart, I’m not worried about lung cancer. Kinda the last of my concerns right now.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to be infecting the rest of us,” you argued.
When Pansy whispered over to Daphne, “who does she think she is?” your eyes finally flicked to the rest of his group and how they were all staring at you, either entertained or thoroughly unimpressed. You got the feeling like you were an animal behind bars they were peering at. You had stepped out of your place and were going to come to regret it if nothing happened soon. It was the feeling all teenagers had at some point and one you would remember well. When your friend tugged at your arm once more, you gave in and let her pull you away
You could still feel Mattheo’s eyes burning into you as you walked away
There were only so many students in a Year at Hogwarts. With the joined classes, it wasn’t uncommon for social circles to mix and wider groups of friends to be created. It was normal for everyone to know everyone. That being said, Mattheo made a point of not socialising outside of his friend group. No one wanted him anyway, so what did it matter?
He knew what your general manner and vibe was. You cared more about school than he ever would and he doubted you had ever taken a shot, much less smoked weed. You weren’t as stuck up as Granger was — he had at least seen you laughing and joking with your friends sometimes — but you weren’t someone he associated with
Mattheo began to keep an eye out for you during fourth year. It was almost unconscious, like a new character had been unlocked in a video game and he began noticing you around. But he didn’t do anything about it
At the Yule Ball (which Mattheo was reluctant to attend), he had been forced into a black suit and dress shirt by Draco. He stepped outside with Theo, unbuttoning the jacket and first couple of buttons, to take a much needed smoke break. He could see Snape breaking up couples on the other side of the grounds, but it was a hushed argument close by that got his attention
He was so close to ignoring it when he heard your name. Maybe it was his nosiness that got the better of him. He jerked a head to Theo who followed after him as Mattheo investigated
“I swear, Pieter, just leave me alone. I’m not even your date,” you were saying when Mattheo rounded the corner
No, Mattheo’s expression didn’t change when he saw a Durmstrang student coming onto you, but an unexpected chill ran through him. He didn’t like how close that boy was to you. He didn’t like how you were turning from the boy, trying to get away. “Oi,” he spoke before he could think
The Durmstrang student glanced over. Even if he didn’t know Mattheo was the son of Voldemort, the general darkness that followed Mattheo around was enough to frighten anyone, especially when Mattheo was staring at the Durmstrang student with the barely controlled anger that got him into so many fights
“What’s going on,” Mattheo said. Behind him, Theo stared at the Durmstrang boy. The two Slytherins didn’t need to even look angry – it was just their aura that frightened anyone
“Is this your girl?” the Durmstrang boy asked, glancing over at you. You were looking between the two, confusion written over your face, but still coiled up, ready to do what you needed to stay safe. You wanted to believe that Mattheo wouldn’t hurt you, but if push came to shove, you were willing to do whatever it took to stay safe
Mattheo shrugged, dropping his cigarette on the ground and stubbing it out with his dress shoe. “Does it matter?” he drawled. “Seems like she doesn’t wanna be with you.”
For once that night, the Durmstrang boy made the right decision. Maybe it was the scarred over knuckles on Mattheo or the way Theo was looking at him that got him to back down. “Alright,” he muttered, shuffling away
Mattheo’s attention turned to you when the boy disappeared. There was a long moment of silence between the two of you, both of you waiting for the other to say something to break the tension. “You’re welcome,” Mattheo finally said, expectant
You scoffed and crossed your arms. “I had it handled. I don’t need a ‘big, strong man’ to come and save me.”
A flicker of a smirk flashed across his face. “So you think I’m big and strong?” After you scoffed again and rolled your eyes, Mattheo asked, “but seriously, where’s your wand?”
A sort of shocked, maybe even terrified look came across your face. “I… I forgot,” you muttered. “I- I didn’t even– oh, god, I’m so stupid.” You ran a hand over your face. “You’d think that after four years of magic, I wouldn’t freeze up like an idiot.”
“Yeah,” Mattheo chuckled. Theo muttered something about mudbloods from behind them and Mattheo glanced back at his friend. For once, he hesitated. “Just don’t do it again,” he remarked gruffly, his light smirk vanishing
Later that year, after the Triwizard Tournament, when everyone was skirting around him and rumours were spreading, you didn’t look at him with hatred. No, it was more concern that flooded through you, like you were worried for him, not about him. Mattheo brushed it aside as his mind playing tricks on him
At the beginning of fifth year, Mattheo returned to Hogwarts with the Dark Mark emblazoned on his forearm
Whispers followed him wherever he went, but Mattheo had lived his whole life keeping his shields up. He walked down the halls, shoulders back and cigarette dangling from his lips, a dangerous nonchalance emanating from him. When Enzo and Draco began acting up or Mattheo rested his feet up on his desk, the teachers didn’t dare to comment
He kept on drinking and smoking his cares away, but one stubborn part of his brain kept thinking of you. It was brief and fleeting at first and he couldn't understand it for the life of him. He wanted to ask Pansy about it, but knew that she might blab to Draco who would inevitable tell the whole group
He had bigger things to think about, anyway. Umbridge was taking over the castle and even though Draco and Pansy were in her idiotic little group, Mattheo and the rest of his friends refused to be associated with her. It was one thing that united a majority of the students. Now, he didn’t go far enough to join Potter’s stupid Dumbledore’s Army play group (of course he knew about it), but he wouldn’t rat them out either
He knew the stigma Slytherin house got from everyone else and honestly, he was tired of it. He knew he definitely fit that stigma, but there were a couple of younger students who had been put in the house simply because they were ambitious and cunning. There were even some muggleborns in Slytherin and one of them made a goddamn decent Chaser on the Quidditch team
Even though the pink witch was terrorising the castle, Mattheo still was a teenage boy. He couldn’t help the jealousy that overcame him when he saw you getting closer to the Weasley twins. While he hated the Weasley twins and the rest of their clan, he couldn’t help but admit that some of their pranks were decent (like terrorising Draco with reminders of his weasel days)
Mattheo didn’t know why you were getting closer to them and it irked him like no other. He was coming out of detention one day, blood drying on the back of his hand with the stupid scars of one of Umbridge’s vague insults. He saw you in a corner with one of the twins standing over you. Immediately, he stiffened. What were you doing so close to that ginger abomination? Why was he touching you and talking quietly? Mattheo’s jaw clenched tightly when he noticed that the twin was examining your hand. Oh. You must’ve had detention before Mattheo did and now the Weasley twin was tending to your wounds
Conflicting emotions ran through the son of the Dark Lord. His hatred for both Umbridge and the Weasley twin grew tenfold. That pink witch shouldn’t have laid a finger on you. Hell, Mattheo was pretty sure that you had never even gotten detention before. What on earth could you have done to warrant such a harsh punishment? Then, to top it all off, his counterpart on the Quidditch field was comforting you when it could’ve been Mattheo
Of course, would Mattheo have been a good person to comfort you? As much as he hated to admit it, he doubted he would have been able to give you the comfort you needed, though a weird part of him wanted to try
As he passed by, you caught his eye and gave a deprecating little laugh as you lifted your hand in explanation. Mattheo nodded once and then raised his own hand. The Weasley twin squared his shoulders, glaring at Mattheo, but when the Slytherin continued walking, the ginger shifted back. Mattheo could hear the twin whisper to you and Mattheo practically preened when he heard your quiet voice say, “he got hurt too. It’s Umbridge to be furious at, not him.”
It was in sixth year during one of Slughorn’s weirdass potion classes that things were clarified. Amortentia was not on his list of potions he wanted to brew, but goddamn if the smell of your bodywash didn’t fill up the classroom. He didn’t even recognise some of the scents he was smelling, but it was undoubtedly you. Slughorn waddled over to the Slytherins and asked Blaise, Pansy, and then Mattheo. As Mattheo’s nostrils flared and he glared at his professor, Slughorn took a step back. “Ah, well, some things are better left unsaid, hmm, Mr. Riddle?”
Of course, Theo and then Enzo and then all of his friends wanted to know what he smelled. He refused to tell them
Mattheo found you in the library one day. It was growing colder and so you were bundled up in a sweater of your house colours. He had made sure not to smoke that morning because he knew you hated the smell. For once, the son of the Dark Lord was nervous. He had never been anxious around girls before
He stood in front of your table until you glanced up and noticed him. “Hey,” he greeted in a mutter. You repeated the word and invited him to sit. He shook his head and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Nah, it’s okay. Uh, I actually… Well, I wanted to thank you, I guess.” The last time he had thanked someone was when Blaise let him borrow his quill. “For- for treating me like- uh, well, like another student.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “Like normal, you know?”
“I didn’t realise I was doing anything different,” you told him. This was not a conversation you were expecting to have today
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Well, you did. So… thanks.” He pressed his lips together and stood there awkwardly. After a beat, he cleared his throat again. “I’m gonna go.”
Mattheo had never felt such relief when, as he turned on his heel, you asked if he wanted to stay
You didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Why the hell was Mattheo Riddle suddenly acting all nice? He could be next to literally any other girl right now, ones that were probably prettier or smarter, but no. He was sitting next to you. Part of you thought it was a bet or he was drugged or something, but by the end of your study session (you were studying, he wasn’t), you couldn’t help but trust him just a little bit. Maybe that was why you said yes when he asked you out on a date
You only told your closest friends what was happening. If your roommates found out, you were sure the entire castle would know by breakfast. You didn’t wanna put that on you or Mattheo. That exact reason was why he didn’t take you to Hogsmeade or somewhere public
Your first date was in the Room of Requirement. Mattheo had turned the place into a comfy little room with a sheet draped over one wall to act as a projector screen for the movie he had chosen. It was oddly charming, especially knowing he could’ve made an actual projector screen appear with fancy movie theatre chairs, but nope. Instead, there was a bundle of blankets and pillows which were constructed into the comfiest seating arrangement ever. It was not what you had expected from the boy who had millions to his name
It was not the Mattheo you had seen snog a girl at a party before, hands groping along her chest. It was the Mattheo who was nervous and seemed to actually care about you that showed up on your date. Instead of flowers he got you all the snacks and candy you could wish for
He couldn't figure out for the life of him how to work the muggle projector
You had to take over and show him. You made a playful comment about how muggleborns weren’t all useless and he muttered a sorry for his past words
He was in awe of muggle movies. He had seen a couple once or twice, but was still enraptured. It also didn’t help that he had chosen an animated film, so the entire time he was just staring up at the screen, eyes wide
At the end of the date, Mattheo revealed that it was the first date he had ever taken a girl on. “I’ve just always skipped that part, you know?” he grinned before adding, “not to sound crass or anything. Please don’t dump me.”
You rewarded his efforts with another date
Mattheo was slow to let you in. Things were very secretive when it came to Mattheo Riddle. He didn’t tell any of his friends he was dating you (to be fair, neither did you) and he did his best to not interact much outside of the dates. He was his cocky, cool, and arrogant self in class, but when evening came and he met you a couple paces from the door to your common room to take you to the Room of Requirement (that’s where most dates took place), he would whisper a compliment about how good you looked
It was clear neither of you completely trusted the other at first, but that was expected. The first couple of months were, as mentioned above, very slow going, but eventually, you two began to let the other in. You would lean against him during movie nights and he would wrap an arm around your shoulders. When the Room of Requirement became a restaurant, he would offer you his fork of pasta to try. His voice would soften as he told you about his childhood when you two were at the Astronomy Tower, looking up at the stars. You would crack jokes about how horrible he was at mini-golf when you insisted that’s what the Room of Requirement became. He would make a point of adjusting your form when you tried out pool (even if you didn’t need help at all)
As you dated Mattheo and he slowly let you into his life, you realised there was a whole part of the wizarding world you didn’t know existed. There were hierarchies and rules everyone had to follow, especially when they came from the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the rigid pureblood community. You felt so bewildered when he first mentioned this to you
Mattheo had clearly grown up in a very structured world with parents that didn’t care if he lived or died. It was one thing to grow up like Draco Malfoy where you were protected at every turn, but still attended galas and dances; it was something entirely different to be Mattheo Riddle who was passed around from obscure relative to relative as his mother rotted in Azkaban and his father still held power from beyond the grave over all of the homes Mattheo visited. He had never really fit in anywhere because everyone he stayed with had been a follower of Voldemort, so it was like there was a power imbalance between this kid who held the Riddle name and whatever adults he was staying with. It led to none of the adults really lecturing him or teaching him what was wrong or right. The places he stayed were never a home, they were just a house he slept in. He had finally moved in with the Malfoys when he was seven and had been introduced to his half-brother, Lorenzo, who he hadn’t even known existed
The Malfoys finally gave him some structure, but they still clearly favoured Draco over any of the boys. Lucius was pissed that Bellatrix had basically just dumped her kids onto him (this isn’t what he had signed up for when he married Narcissa), though did feel as if it was an honour to raise the son of his late Master, whereas his wife was a bit more accommodating
That was where Mattheo mostly learned about the expected way he was supposed to act and the true gravity of his father’s name. Lucius Malfoy loved to lord Mattheo’s lineage over the young boy and whip him into shape
You learned that yes, Voldemort was back, and it was the summer between your fourth and fifth year that Mattheo had finally met his dad for the first time in his life
It was clear by the way Mattheo would shut down and his voice would lower when he talked about Voldemort that it was a touchy subject. He didn’t get into much detail, especially at the beginning of your relationship, but you could tell that he had been through much more than any teenager should have
You knew that Mattheo stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas and hardly got any presents (except a few snuck in by Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore because there’s obviously a plan in place for students with rough home lives like Mattheo). You also knew that he detested summers, much like a friend of yours, Harry Potter, did
Mattheo Riddle would tell you all of this, and then pretend not to know you during classes. At first, you didn’t mind and would do the same, but eventually, as months passed, you couldn't help the sting that followed when Mattheo would only glance at you with that dead-eyed stare in the halls. That’s what led him to make your relationship public
You had revealed to him your feelings one day after another movie night in the Room of Requirement. You were laying between his legs and he had begun to knead your thighs when you tensed up. It led to an awkward conversation, but one that needed to happen
There was no over-exaggeration of your relationship to make it public. Mattheo simply began hanging around your desk before and after classes, draping an arm over your shoulder, and spending more time with you – all things he had wanted to do when your relationship was private. Of course there were some mutterings around the castle, but his friends weren’t the most perceptive
The signs were there in front of them: he had stopped smoking as much, was spending less time around them, and seemed overall happier. But it wasn’t until one day, when they were all in the common room that they figured it out. Mattheo checked the clock and pushed himself off of the couch. “Alright, I’m gonna go,” he said
“Your entire social life is in this room. Where’re you going?” Draco asked as he took a sip of butterbeer
Mattheo shrugged and said, “out with Y/n. She’s gonna teach me muggle games.”
Four heads whipped towards him and Pansy and Daphne nodded before continuing their conversation. “L/n?!” Draco asked as Theo demanded, “when have you been hanging out with her?” At the same time, Enzo exclaimed, “out? Are you dating?!” and Blaise scoffed, “you’re kidding, right?”
Mattheo, who was shrugging a light jacket on (because the castle got cold in February), turned back towards his friends, an eyebrow raised. “Uh, yeah? Y/n? We’ve been dating for like, four months now.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell us?!” Theo gasped out
“I haven’t fucking hid it,” Mattheo said. He waved a hand at Pansy and Daphne. “They knew!”
The rest of the Slytherin boys rounded on the two girls. “You knew?!” Draco’s voice only kept getting higher
“Duh,” Pansy rolled her eyes. “It’s pretty obvious.”
Daphne nodded along, painting her nails. “We haven’t met her yet, though. Riddle’s very protective over his lady,” she sang out. “We could meet her today,” she suggested with a sly grin. As all of the Slytherin boys voiced their agreement, Mattheo glared at Daphne
That’s how you ended up teaching the majority of the sixth-year Slytherins how to play Uno
Mattheo was highly disgruntled by the entire thing and kept muttering to himself. He only shut up when you kissed his cheek. Theo and Draco were in constant argument over the rules, since you had taught them “street rules” and were too busy explaining to Enzo how the reverse rule worked to mitigate their argument. Daphne and Pansy had teamed up to try and Blaise was weirdly good at it
They didn’t even seem to mind that you were a muggleborn
As all people are, Mattheo Riddle was a nuanced person. He was sarcastic, witty, and hot-headed, but also touch-starved, flirtatious, and confident. He had his ups and downs like anyone and the two of you managed all of your combined emotions together
People definitely noticed the changes in Mattheo. Whereas he used to slouch in the back of the classroom, staring daggers at anyone who dared interrupt him, he instead made more jokes with his friends and it wasn’t uncommon for his sharp smile to lift his lips
He grew more cocky and he attributed it to the fact that you were on his arm. He loved to flirt with you, even though you were already dating. He would make cheeky little comments and provocative jokes that had him waggling his eyebrows at you
You once made a comment about how you thought he looked very sexy in his uniform and ever since then he had put a bit more effort into his appearance. He would put a bit of mousse in his hair and make sure his tie was knotted correctly. Quidditch kept him fit and it paid off, especially when the two of you were making out and you ran your hands over his biceps or dug your nails into his hair
Mattheo loved showing you off. He was big on PDA. Once you two had had your first kiss, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. His arm would be around your waist, a hand resting on your hip as you walked through the corridors. If it was a weekend and you didn’t need to wear your uniform, he would slip his hand into your back pocket. He adored the thrill of dragging you to a secluded little corner and snogging, even if you warned him that someone could find you
He had broken off all of his past flings early in sixth year, before the two of you even started dating and if any one of them made a snarky remark about how he had downgraded, he was quick to storm up to them and start a shouting match (he would never hit a girl, but he would track down their boyfriends if they had them and beat them to a pulp)
Yes, Mattheo still did get into fights even though you two were dating. He had gotten really sullen after the first time it had happened while the two of you were together, like he was expecting you to break up with him, but when you had simply nodded along to Madame Pomfery’s instructions on how to apply to healing cream she had given him, he relaxed. Now, it was common for him to go to your dorm instead of the hospital wing
His tendency for fighting had decreased, mostly because he didn’t go looking for them anymore, but he would still square up if anyone said anything. He tried not fight in front of you, though
His biggest turn on was when you wore his Quidditch jersey with his last name on your back
He liked to listen to The Smiths and really connected with their music
Mattheo also liked to draw. He was oddly good at it and would draw hazy scenes from your relationship where one couldn’t tell who the people were, but you could recognise the Astronomy Tower from your dates
He kept one of your hair ties around his wrist. It was a silent reminder to everyone that he was taken and he liked to play with it during classes
He was obviously incredibly wealthy. All of Bellatrix’s money went to him while she was in Azkaban and the Blacks were one of the most affluent wizarding families. That, combined with the money Voldemort had amassed when he was in power was enough to last Mattheo generations. He also had many properties to his name all over Britain, but wouldn’t get ahold of them until either his parents died, or he turned of age
Mattheo really liked the slow moments with you. He loved to lay his head in your lap or lay on top of you and have you trace the scars on his body. It made him feel better about the scars he had gotten from fighting or his father, now that Voldemort was back. He would never ask for it, but he would always look up at you a bit expectantly whenever he wanted it. However, he would never let you touch his forearm where the Dark Mark was. It was clear he was ashamed of it and didn’t want you to think of him in that way
As sixth year winded down, Mattheo got more and more on edge. He was in the tower when Dumbledore died and he was eager to get onto the train back to Platform 9 and 3/4 when the year was done. He hated the idea of going back to Malfoy Manor where both of his parents now were. You wanted him to spend the entire summer with you, but he knew his parents would never allow that. Instead, he got Blaise to say Mattheo was staying with him and his family for three weeks, when in reality, Mattheo was with you. Blaise’s mother had no ties to Voldemort, so she was fine with her son’s lie
The weeks Mattheo spent with you were heaven in his eyes. The world seemed brighter and later, he would tell you they were the only weeks of the summer he allowed himself to remember
You showed him all around the muggle world and it was glorious. Mattheo could leave his last name behind, especially because your family didn’t have a clue what the Riddle name meant. You had told your parents that Mattheo had a difficult home life and they were more than accommodating
He got to sleep in your bed which was the highlight of his time (not because of the sex – though that did happen — but because of the proximity to you)
On the day before he had to go back to Malfoy Manor, Mattheo took you aside and quickly pleaded with you not to attend Hogwarts for your seventh year. “Y/n, I can’t fucking put you in that position,” he muttered, gripping your hand. “I- I can’t save you from everything that will happen.”
Yet, he understood why you had to go. Mattheo attended with you and you saw a different side of your boyfriend. You saw the side that grew up with the hierarchies and Sacred Twenty-Eight
Hogwarts was hell. You and Dumbledore’s Army tried your best to help every underclassman you could, but many of them were scared of you because they saw you hanging out with Mattheo
Mattheo, meanwhile, was like royalty. The Death Eater teachers gave him special attention and the best grades. By proxy, you were also treated as such. Mattheo made clear from the very start that whoever touched you would face direct consequences from him. He was given the position of Head Boy and you would sleep in his private dorm every night so he could ensure you were okay
He, along with some other Slytherins, were called away every once in a while by Voldemort and that’s when you felt most exposed. The dementors seemed to gravitate towards you, as if they could feel your fear, and you even went so far as to lock yourself in Mattheo’s dorm during weekends
Things reached a boiling point towards the end of the year. The Battle of Hogwarts was inevitable. Mattheo and his friends hadn’t been in class for a week now and when the Death Eaters came marching up to the school, you could pick out your boyfriend from just the way he walked
McGonagall gave you a look when Harry Potter showed up, but you only stared back. Love would not get in the way of doing what was right
The moment the battle started, Mattheo made it his mission to find you. He dropped his Death Eater’s cloak and raced around the castle. Dodging curses and jinxes wasn’t the thing that got his heart-rate up – it was the idea that he might turn a corner and your dead eyes would be staring back at him
He found you telling off Colin Creevey for sticking around for the battle. You were near the Room of Requirement and were trying to get the young boy to Aberforth when you spotted Mattheo. The two of you collided in a hug that spoke more than you could ever say. “Oh, thank god, thank god,” you whispered over and over. Meanwhile, Mattheo was pressing kisses to your forehead, chest heaving
He nearly growled when Colin Creevey took a picture of you two
(He later got the picture from him)
You ushered Colin out to safety before turning back to Mattheo. “I’m getting you out of here,” he declared sharply. You knew better to argue
As you were running through the halls, the two of you practically crashed into the Golden Trio. You locked eyes with Hermione
Mattheo had always had a complicated relationship with Harry Potter. He couldn't deny the jealousy he felt of Harry. Even though they were both in very similar positions and thrust into a life neither of them asked for, at least Harry had an adult support system and people who genuinely loved him. Mattheo had you, of course, but there was a father and mother figure hole in his heart he could never truly fix
After a moment of charged indecision, Mattheo stepped to the side. The Golden Trio nodded in thanks and went on their way
You squeezed Mattheo’s hand, pride flowing through you
The two of you found your way to the Great Hall. It was there that he locked eyes with his mother. Bellatrix’s eyes flitted over to you. She cast a dangerous red spell across the room and then stepped over dead bodies and rubble to get to you, slowly. “So you’re the girl that has captured my son,” she breathed out and Mattheo stepped in front of you. “Oh, come now, Matty,” she cooed. “Let me admire her.”
“Not happening,” Mattheo snapped.
“Imagine my surprise,” Bellatrix continued, “when I find out that my son is sending letters over summer to a mudblood,” she spit out. You tensed behind her and gripped Mattheo’s hand
“Mum,” Mattheo said harshly, a reminder. Bellatrix raised her wand faster than you could comprehend and shot a curse at you. Mattheo shoved you out of the way and it singed your shoulder. Before you knew it, mother and son were in an intense duel. The Great Hall parted, doing nothing but watching, as the two forces clashed. Spells lit up the room. You wanted to intervene, but couldn’t risk Mattheo’s concentration being broken
Bellatrix was a powerful witch, but Mattheo had both her blood and the blood of Voldemort running through his veins
He had no qualms when it came to killing her
The Great Hall seemed to hold its breath as Mattheo stared at the place where his mother used to stand. Slowly, his head turned to stare at you. You were quick to race over and Mattheo was eager for the comfort of your arms
During the brief break in the battle, Mattheo refused the burning of the Dark Mark. He knew his father wouldn’t hesitate to kill him due to his treachery. Instead, he sat with you as you held him close. You tried to cool the intense pain in his forearm with some spells, but it turned out that numbing the area with ice worked best. You ran your hand through his hair softly, letting him begin to process the emotions working throughout him
You said in the castle with him as Harry duelled his father. Mattheo didn’t want to see himself be made an orphan. He held no regret over what was about to happen and when his Dark Mark finally faded, both of you knew it was over
It took months to get back to normal. Mattheo didn’t want anything to do with the Wizarding World. He knew his name would follow him until his dying days. He took you to one of his properties in a far off corner of England – not to hide away in, but to recentre himself. Eventually, in the back of the garden, he erected two tombstones for his parents
Mattheo Riddle proposed to you on your fourth anniversary when you both were twenty. Your wedding was a small affair, but he couldn’t help but admit he loved to see all of his old friends again. There was a weight off of everyone’s shoulders that made it more light-hearted
He hired Colin Creevey to be your photographer
Mattheo took your last name but kept Riddle as a middle name. He couldn’t completely part from it
His favourite part of your wedding (apart from the wedding night) was having the first dance with you as husband and wife
After a couple more years, you two moved back into the Wizarding World. You bought a house on the outskirts of a small wizarding community where the war had hardly touched. It was a lovely place for friends to stop by and was very homey
Mattheo spent his time loving you. Mornings were slow and calm and both of you needed that time to unwind and be young again
He would come up behind you in the kitchen and weave his arms around you
Mattheo liked to slow dance with you in the living room
He also gained a greater appreciation for muggle things and liked to incorporate them into your house
He liked to work with his hands, even though he could easily use magic. He built a storage shed in the backyard
Mattheo also joined his friends weekly to play Quidditch just for fun. It got him out of the house and really did help his mental state
Theo and Enzo were the people most likely to drop by randomly and you were all too happy when Daphne and Pansy tagged along
When Draco had Scorpius and you went over with food and to meet the baby, Mattheo was terrified to hold the kid. Seeing you hold the kid however… ooh you had a fun night when you got back home
His proudest achievement was definitely being your husband
Mattheo began writing letters to Harry Potter and the pair met up every once in a while in Diagon Alley
Hermione, now Minister of Magic, pardoned Mattheo soon after she came into office and spoke highly of him to the press. Neither you or Mattheo attended the ceremony, but you did send Hermione your thanks and love
War had aged Mattheo and you. Trauma was a complicated thing that waned in its healing. Nightmares plagued him more than they did you and while he knew they would never go away, things had gotten much better as time went on
Both of you were content to go about your life together and hey, if your family ended up growing, Mattheo wasn’t complaining one bit
Hi J!! I wish I could come up with something more original, but honestly all I can say is that I absolutely adore everything you write. I’ve been struggling to find fics I really enjoy lately, and yours always end up being my favorites!! You’re incredibly talented, and I really appreciate you sharing your work with all of us. You always make my days a little better ❤️
Please feel totally free to ignore this idea — it’s just something that’s been stuck in my head for a long time, and I completely understand if it sounds a bit silly. I always wonder what the Triwizard Tournament would have been like if it had taken place during the Marauders’ school years. I think a James x reader fic where they’re both champions would be so interesting, especially if she came from another school! Maybe she could be Sirius’s sister, but their parents didn’t like her and sent her to a stricter school instead. I feel like a dynamic where Sirius doesn’t want his friends dating his sister while James is completely smitten with her would be really funny. Sorry if this sounds dumb!! I’ll keep reading you no matter what ❤️
Hi! ❤︎ Thank you so much!
The most difficult part of this was deciding what I wanted the tasks to be because I didn't want to copy from Goblet of Fire, but if I do a Triwizard Tournament fic again, it will be the same as either this fic or GoF. I def did not include as much Sirius not wanting his sister to date James, but its present. ❤︎
I hope y'all enjoy ❤︎❤︎❤︎
Competitors
James Potter x Black!reader
20.7k words
cw: lil fluff, Y/N, slow burn (sort of? I guess), simple untranslated French, James falls fast and hard, James has teenage boy thoughts
You were never what your parents wanted. What a disappointment that their first born was a girl.
At least she’ll have good manners? Nope.
Advanced in learning? You were talented; your grades just didn’t show it.
Interest in femininity, delicacy, beauty? Not at the forefront of your mind.
Ballet – surely you could be trained to dance? Nice try.
French. You could learn to speak the language of your family! Unless someone was trying to ask you to get a coffee from the kitchen, then you’d be cooking in a cafe and everyone would be confused.
Okay, you weren’t that bad a French. You just realized that your parents didn’t love you so you played dumb.
In trying to mold you into who they wanted you to be, they sent you to Beauxbaton. Your grades were tolerable and if they sent report cards throughout the year, every class would say you have potential and you clearly understand that material, you just don’t do as told.
“Are you going to enter the tournament?” your friend Winnie asked as you lounged around your room after returning to school for the fall.
“Bien sûr,” you said. “Pourquoi pas?”
“Des gens sont morts.”
You laughed. “All the more enticing. The danger makes it exciting!”
“And the money,” Daphne, another one of your friends, sighed.
“I thought you were going to marry rich?” Winnie asked.
“It’s a backup plan.”
The next day you were loaded into the carriage and brought to Hogwarts. Everyone in their final three years had to come, even if they weren’t planning on entering the Triwizard Tournament.
It was interesting, to say the least, to see the school your brothers went to. It was so different from Beauxbatons.
“Haven’t they heard of lighting?” a girl asked as you gathered in an entry hall outside a large set of doors.
You could hear murmurs from the other side. Your headmistress shushed you. You took in all of the cold stone as you waited for something to happen.
Then the large doors creaked open and you were able to catch the last words of your school’s introduction.
“-of Beauxbatons!”
Your headmistress led the group to the front of the hall where all of the Hogwarts students sat at four long tables. You felt a little like an animal at the zoo with all of the eyes on you. It was definitely warmer and brighter in this hall, but you weren’t sure if that made up for the grimness of it all.
“Doesn’t your sister go to Beauxbatons?” Remus asked as students in light blue satin uniforms walked into the Great Hall
“Yeah,” Sirius said, uninterested.
“So she’s here,” Remus said.
“I guess so?”
“Wow, all three Black siblings in the same room. How often does that happen?” Peter asked.
Sirius didn’t answer. The boys knew it wasn’t often. You didn’t really come out of your room in the summer. At least, not into the rest of the house. Whether or not you climbed out of your window and shimmied down the drain pipe so you could walk around muggle London was none of his business.
You knew that your brothers were there, somewhere among the tables of green and red. You didn’t bother looking for them. What were the chances you’d be able to spot them among tens of students crammed together.
“And our friends from the Northeast, the ladies and gentlemen of Durmstrang!”
The doors creaked open again and more students came pouring into the hall. You swore each student had an identically pristine uniform. That was impressive. While Beauxbatons’ uniforms were supposed to be identical, not everyone wore it quite the same. From your minimal exposure, it seemed like Hogwarts was even more lax about it.
The Hogwarts headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, said a few more words and then invited the two schools to join his students. A majority of your school headed for the blue table so you went with them.
‘Even better,’ you thought. ‘I won’t have to risk accidentally sitting next to Sirius or Regulus.’
You sat between two of your friends, luckily with other Beauxbatons students across from you. You wanted to minimize the amount of “Where are you from?”, “If you live in London, why don’t you go here?”, “Your brothers go here?”, “So are you fluent in French?” Those conversations couldn’t interest you. You’d let your classmates mingle with the other schools and you’d do what you did best – avoid being everyone wanted you to be.
Dumbledore stood at the podium again, joined by two men. He raised his arms and the hall fell silent. If there was one thing he did, it was command respect.
“The reason we have gathered the three schools together is for a legendary tournament. You may have heard of the Triwizard Tournament. For those who haven’t, and for those who may need a reminding, it is a series of tasks meant to challenge select champions beyond what a classroom can offer. These tasks do not offer the same safety and leeways a classroom does. This is not for every witch and wizard. It is a measure that many adults fall short of,” he explained. “That being said, what awaits the winner is eternal glory. It is an achievement that cannot be matched by anything else. Remember that it may come at a cost if you so choose to enter.”
Dumbledore approached a large wooden chunk to the left of his podium. With a descending wave of his wand, the wood melted away until a cup remained; another wave of the wand set it ablaze.
“Let me introduce Mr. Adam Frankiver, Head of Magical Games and Sports, and Mr. Marius Arbres, Head of International Magical Cooperation.”
You were only half-listening to the two ministry officials as they gave more details about the tournament and its rules. There were some shouts of protests from Hogwarts students when it was announced that you had to be fifteen to enter. You chuckled softly. Did some kid, barely a teenager, really think they’d have a chance against witches and wizards who were of age? They’d be dragged through the mud. And from how they were describing it, the youngster probably couldn’t fathom how much danger they’d be in if chosen.
“Eternal glory?” James whispered as Arbres continued talking. “It’s a tournament made for me.”
“Don’t forget the galleons,” Remus said.
“Don’t worry, Moony,” Sirius said as he leaned over the table to pat Remus’ hand. “When I win, I’ll give you half.”
“Or it’ll be you and me planning their funerals,” Peter said to Remus.
“Oi, only one of us can be a champion,” Sirius said. “And it’s going to be me.”
“I’d cheer for you,” James said, tilting his head and batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion.
“Oh, bugger off, Prongs,” Sirius laughed as he gave James a shove.
After dinner, you were walking back to the carriage with your friends.
“So, what do we do until October 31?” Daphne asked. “Just like sit around and watch everyone who puts their name in?”
“I think we’re going to go to class with them?” Winnie said. “Not really space for class in there.” She gestured ahead of you.
“Damn, and here I was thinking they would let us slack off for a year,” you laughed.
It made sense that the Hogwarts professors would teach you. Not all of your professors came with; most had stayed behind to teach the younger students.
So you went to classes in the castle. The professors were quick to compare you to your brothers. Whether that was a good or bad thing apparently depended on which brother and which teacher. You almost laughed when Professor Slughorn said you had the skills of Regulus but the ability to pay attention of Sirius. Why did it matter if you paid attention if you could brew? It was lost on you.
A few weeks passed. You went with your friends to put your names in the goblet. There was a good amount of people sitting around the hall, watching as people entered the competition. You didn’t notice Sirius nor Regulus sitting with their respective friends. Both had entered earlier in the day.
“Y/N, going first?” Trina, another friend, asked.
“Obviously.”
You walked up the goblet and tossed your name in.
You had all the eyes of the room. Most of all, you had James’ full attention. He had seen you around the school but never quite in this light, and he can’t take his eyes off you. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even know who you were, or that you were related to his best friend. He just knew that he liked the way you led your friends and the way you smiled after putting your name in, like you knew you were going to see that slip again. He adored the energy you gave off. He could feel it from across the room. It was something special.
You and your friends didn’t sit around. James frowned slightly as you left, not noticing that Sirius was also frowning, albeit for a different reason. He wasn’t exactly the most supportive of you entering.
After that, you started growing impatient. You were ready for the tournament to start, for the champions to be chosen. Then you could either focus on the tasks, if chosen, or you could completely tune out the tournament. You’d go to the events of course, but you wouldn’t care about all their preparing and such.
Needless to say, but the entire Great Hall was vibrating with excitement on Halloween. Each table in the hall had students who were confident that their names were about to be called. You may have been one of them.
“It could really be any of us,” Trina commented. “We all put our names in.”
“Uh-huh. That is true,” you said, although you didn’t believe it.
You had a feeling that the goblet would choose people with the best chance to win from each school. Your friends were skilled; there was no doubt about that. You just thought there were times where you were quicker on your feet, more impulsive and faster to draw your wand and make a move. It was those kinds of skills the champion would need.
Dumbledore stood at his podium and raised his arms like he had on the first night. And just the same, the hall fell silent. He didn’t need to announce what was going to happen. He approached the goblet. Its flames burst larger and spit out the first paper. It unfolded in the air and floated gently in the air before Dumbledore snatched it.
The entire hall was silent. Every eye was on Dumbledore, waiting for him to read the name. You didn’t know which school was first. But this was what everyone was waiting for. Anticipation buzzed in the air.
“Y/N Black!”
It felt like half of Beauxbatons broke out into wild cheers; others eyed you with jealousy or disapproval of your being chosen. Most of the Durmstrang and Hogwarts students applauded politely.
But there were also whispers. You heard them as you walked to the front of the hall. They couldn’t wipe the proud smile from your face.
“Black? Like Sirius Black?”
“Is that Regulus’ sister?”
“Do you think they’re related?”
Professor Dumbledore gave you a polite smile as you reached him. Your headmistress didn't. She simply gestured for you to enter a backroom. She didn’t even say anything as you passed her. You thought she was wishing a lead academic had been chosen, someone who would be good press for the school if they won. “Troubled daughter of the Black family” was exactly something she’d want to hang in her office.
The door closed behind you with a deep thud. It damped all noise from the hall. It was eerily quiet as you descended the stairs you were immediately met with. You entered a room with various shelves and cabinets holding tons of trophies, shields, and plaques. You did a slow lap of the room. The few trophies you skimmed were all for inner-school accomplishments – none of it meant anything to you.
There was a cheer. It was faint yet audible. The quiet returned, only to be broken by the opening and closing of the heavy door at the top of the stairs.
A boy from Durmstrang had been chosen. He nodded at you from the bottom of the staircase, which was on the other side of the room from where you stood. He remained over there. You didn’t take any offense to it. You didn’t know each other and now you were competitors.
It was a tad awkward for a minute. Then there was a massive cheer. It had to be louder than yours and the Durmstrang’s with how loud it was. You reminded yourself that the Hogwarts champion had an entire school cheering for them while you had less than half. The noise got louder momentarily and then quickly faded.
A boy with messy hair, glasses and a confident grin appeared at the bottom of the stairs. His smile shifted into the kind of smirk where you knew it lived on his face. You had a feeling he was like you: he knew he was going to be chosen. He immediately went to shake hands with the Durmstrang boy, and then he turned towards you.
There was a shift on his face. You didn’t know what it was but you noticed it.
“Congrats,” he said after crossing the room to shake your hand as well.
“Likewise.”
Then you were joined by the headmasters, Mr. Frankiver, and Mr. Arbres.
“Our three champions, Y/N Black, Armand Hanes, and James Potter,” Mr. Frankiver said. “We have some brief things to go over before we release you for dinner.”
Mr. Arbres started to talk about minor rules and your task uniforms and other information that you should’ve been paying attention to.
James wasn’t listening. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Simply put, he was intrigued by you. He had seen you put your name in and thought you were special then. Now he knew you were a Black. He loved Sirius as a brother, and he admired Regulus’ impressive yet quiet competitiveness. Surely you shared some of their qualities. You had entered the tournament afterall, just like both of them.
You could feel James staring. You figured he was trying to gauge whether or not you were going to be a real threat. The Durmstrang boy, Armand, obviously was.
You were trying to figure out where you heard his name before. Potter. He wasn’t a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. You’d heard it before. You knew you had. His face wasn’t familiar, at least not before arriving at Hogwarts.
The headmasters led you back out into the Great Hall and you were greeted with cheers. Each school roared for their champion. The three of you were beaming and waving, soaking up the attention. You weren’t going to lie – it was nice to be cheered for.
Then it was time to eat. You were distracted throughout the whole meal, trying to figure out where you’d heard James’ name before. You acknowledged everyone congratulating you. But your heart wasn’t really in it. James was bugging you.
He didn’t really sit down for dinner. He walked up and down the red table, venturing occasionally to the yellow table and the Hogwarts end of the blue. He was getting pats on the backs as he went. It was clear that he was well-liked.
It hit you later when you were laying in bed. You had heard his name before. It was never said nicely. You were never around to hear the conversation in its entirety.
James Potter was Sirius’ friend.
Mother had screamed about it when Sirius came home for Christmas his first year, and again that summer. Sirius stopped coming home for Christmas and you assumed he stopped bringing James up. You were surprised you actually remembered that.
“So your sister’s a champion. That, what, makes her better than you and Regulus?” Remus teased Sirius as the four boys went up to their dorm.
They had been hanging around the Gryffindor Common Room since everyone still wanted to talk with James.
“I wouldn’t say better, Moony. I’m sure if we went to that pansy-ass school, we’d’ve been chosen.”
“But you wouldn’t be the same,” Peter said. “Having gotten a pansy-ass education and no us.”
Sirius rolled his eyes and pushed open the door.
“How come you never mentioned that she’s fit?” James asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Y/N. She’s easy on the eyes,” James said.
“More than easy,” Peter added while Remus chuckled, shaking his head.
“That’s disgusting. And foul. Horrendous. I might need to throw up,” Sirius said as he headed for the bathroom.
Peter wasn’t done though. “Right, I forgot. It’s only acceptable if it’s your cousin!”
“Fuck off, Wormtail!”
James joined Peter and Remus’ laughter.
Your curiosity got the best of you in the morning. You spotted James from across the hall as he strolled in and down the length of the Gryffindor table.
Sure enough, there was Sirius.
It was the first time in a long time that you really looked at your brother. Even across the hall, you could tell something was different with him. He looked… happy. You can’t recall the last time you saw him smile like that with his head thrown back, laughing. Maybe when you were too little to understand the world.
You scanned the Slytherin table for Regulus. He was more difficult to spot. Perfect posture and dark fair was fairly common over there, and you expected him to be with a quiet group. When you did spot him, some dark haired boy was trying to get his attention while he spoke to some students who had stopped by to talk to him.
(Regulus had gotten permission to have open quidditch practices for those who didn’t want to go a year without playing, and the students talking to him were getting the times. Not that you’d know that.)
“Merlin, that’s weird,” you muttered, shaking your head.
“What’s weird?” a boy named Marius asked.
You considered him your friend; he was one of the few Beauxbatons boys who didn’t irritate you endlessly.
“Actually seeing my brothers.”
He nodded and took a sip of his tea. “I always forget you have those.”
“I assume their friends forget about me too.
“They won’t be forgetting about you when you win,” Daphne said, sitting next to you. “How did Mr. Old Man say it? Eternal glory!”
“His name is Professor Dumbledore,” a Ravenclaw boy nearby corrected, but Daphne just waved him off.
A week went by and the awe of being champion wore off for the other students. The first task was in two weeks. Until then, you were to go to class and do everything as you usually would.
“Miss Black, Miss Weasley here will escort you to your Tournament meeting,” Professor Flitwick said, gesturing to the redheaded girl standing next to him with a note in her hand. “Do take your things.”
You nodded, grabbed your stuff, and followed the girl out of the room.
“They wouldn’t tell me anything more than where to find you and where to bring you,” the girl said. “Champion stuff, they said. It’s so exciting!”
“Uh-huh,” you said.
The girl kept talking as you walked. She wondered about what the first task would be, told you what some previous tasks had been since she read up on the tournament since the other schools arrived, and raved about how James was an obvious choice for the Hogwarts champion. You were glad when you came to the room where you were needed.
“Alright, here we are!”
“Thanks,” you said before the girl disappeared down the corridor you had just been down.
You stepped into the brightly lit room. James and Armand were already there, along with the Transfiguration teacher and another lady.
“Ah, there she is!” the lady exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Our Beauxbatons champion! Now we can get started!”
You raised your eyebrows and crossed your arms.
“The interviews can get… emotional. So, photos first!”
A petit man walked out from somewhere within the room, holding a large camera. He smiled awkwardly and then meekly gestured for you to join the boys.
“Right,” you mumbled.
At the photographer’s directions, you posed for several photos. You stood with the boys, sat with the boys standing, stood with one boy sitting and then the boys swapped, stood for individual photos. It was a whole ordeal.
“I’m sure that’s enough, Trisha,” Professor McGonagall said. “Let’s get the interviews going.”
“Mr. Hanes, let’s start with you,” the woman, Trisha, said.
Armand and Trisha walked over to the table on the other side of the room. James took the opportunity to talk to you.
“What do you say we ditch this and go snog in a broom closet?” James said, his teenage boy mouth moving faster than any sense in his brain.
Luckily for him, you weren’t expecting to be talked to and your brain didn’t fully process what he said.
“Pardon?”
He cleared his throat. The tips of his ears turned pink, but his hair covered them.
“So, how are you liking Hogwarts?”
“Oh,” you said, flexing your eyebrows and then turning your body more towards James. “Bit cold.” You shrugged. “Drafty.”
“You just don’t have the proper uniform for it,” he said. “But other than that, how does it compare to Beauxbatons? Like the Great Hall, the classrooms, you know.”
And we could go to my dorm if you want a tour of that.
Nope. He could not and would not say that. He took a deep breath to recenter himself and hopefully steer himself towards a cleaner mindset.
“The moving stairs are atrocious. Bloody torture trying to figure them out,” you said.
James smiled. It was a soft kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat. You reminded yourself that he was competition.
“I mean, classrooms and dining hall, good enough lighting, I suppose. The corridors… must they be lined with portraits? Can’t go anywhere without feeling watched.”
“No way you’re not being watched,” James said, before immediately running a hand through his hair. “Merlin, that came out wrong. I mean, blokes got to have their eyes on a pretty girl like you.”
You laughed, and James adjusted how he was standing. He leaned down to be closer to your height.
“Flattery won’t make me go any easier on you during the tournament,” you said.
Then there was the scraping of chairs as Armand stood up and left the table.
“Armand, can you find your way back to class?” Professor McGonagall asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then go on. No need to miss any more of it.”
Armand left and Trisha called you over, leaving James alone on the other side of the room. He sighed as you sat down. How could Sirius not see how beautiful you were? You were slightly intimidating up close and personal, but James attributed that to your parents. From his experience, Regulus was the same way. And you weren’t going to lay off him nor Armand in the tournament. He knew you’d fulfil that promise.
Trisha started off by telling you the type of article you could expect to see in the Daily Prophet in a few days. She’d need some time to gather all her notes and write the profiles before having her editor look at it. You just nodded. You didn’t care about all the little details.
You thought nothing of the questions she asked you.
Why did you enter? Sounded like fun.
What did your parents think? Do I look like I care what they think? I’m 17.
How do you feel about being the only girl chosen ? There’s three of us so unless it’s all boys or all girls, someone’s going to be the odd one out. Not that it means anything. I have no disadvantage here.
And the boys are both younger than you. Again, so? I know more magic.
The more questions she asked, the more frustrated you became. It was like she was trying to get a rise out of you based on your sex. And get a rise out of you she did. You exploded into a rant of being the best that Beauxbatons had to offer and it didn’t matter that you did go to Beauxbatons - you would’ve been chosen no matter which school you were at, beating out James and Armand from being chosen.
You thought steam must’ve been coming off of you when you exited the room without being dismissed. You took your things and went to your next class.
James witnessed the whole thing. He actually heard most of your answers before you started yelling, and he thought your outburst was warranted. Trisha hadn’t been trying to smooth things over. It sounded like she was trying to agitate you.
“Alright, handsome, let’s get started with you,” Trisha said, giving James a sickly sweet smile.
James looked to Professor McGonagall to silently ask if he should after that, and she nodded grimly. The questions Trisha asked James were much more mild. He assumed they were the same ones she asked Armand since he hadn’t left the room looking like he was going to punch something.
A few days later, the article came out and the Great Hall was passing around papers like there was no tomorrow.
“What is wrong with you?” a seventh year Ravenclaw girl asked you with a paper in her hand. “Sirius is a fantastic wizard.”
You snatched the paper from her hand before she could react. You hadn’t mentioned Sirius in your interview, and that was the only reason you could think of that would have you in the paper. Trisha was the only person from the Daily Prophet whom you had spoken to.
“Page 6,” the girl said.
“Thanks,” you said flatly as you sat down and read.
A frown formed and got deeper the more you read. You didn’t say a single thing she had written. James and Armand’s sections were what you had expected with questions about them entering and what they expected and what they would do with the prize money. Yours had been twisted into some family drama. According to Trisha, instead just saying that you didn’t care what your parents thought because you were 17, you went on a rant about not caring for their permission to enter but now that you were champion, you were going to prove that you were the heir your parents wanted all along. It only got worse from there. She had you dissing Sirius and Regulus. Apparently you thought Sirius was too much with his outbursts and trying too far from the family and Regulus was pathetic for trying so hard to be everything your parents wanted, which was everything you and Sirius weren’t.
“What. The. Fuck,” you breathed.
You set the paper down, grabbed a muffin, and left the Great Hall. If that was going to be the talk for a while, you didn’t want to be there.
At the Gryffindor table, Sirius was reading the article with a frown that mimicked yours.
“Bit rich coming from her,” he said.
James hummed curiously.
“The article? Did you not hear her telling this… Trisha McCatchy that I’m too much and Regulus tries too hard?”
“She said what?” James said.
Sirius slid the article towards James.
“This is not what she said. At least, not about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“She trashed me and Armand a bit, but that’s not important. Trisha was asking about how she felt facing us and being the only girl and stuff. I heard her whole interview. The only real thing in there is that Y/N doesn’t care what your parents think. Wanting their approval? No. Sounding all hoity-toity? No.”
Sirius started at James, taking in what he said. Then he shook his head. “Don’t say hoity-toity.”
“I’m just saying,” James said, tossing the paper to the middle of the table. “She never said any of that.”
If only James could have told all of Hogwarts that. The rest of your week was spent putting up with comments about the article and how harsh you were on your brothers and a little about your parents. Not many of them were too creative. You got called a brat several times, and many Slytherins liked waste of pureblood.
You didn’t have the energy to deal with it all. You needed to start focusing on the first task, which you were given no clues about. It was really to test your ability to think on your feet. So you were to go into it blindly with only your wand and your wits. Which actually wasn’t that bad in your opinion. You assumed it would be some kind of duel.
James and Armand thought the same thing.
Well, James did until he learned more.
He was walking with Sirius and Peter, all under his Cloak of Invisibility, to the Whomping Willow. They were approaching the door they usually snuck out of when they heard voices. There had never been people around that door at this hour.
“And Dumbledore is sure they can handle two Nundus?” the first voice asked. It wasn’t anyone the boys knew.
“He’s confident. Said around 30 people are coming to take care of them when they arrive a day before the First Task,” the second voice said. Mr. Arbres.
The three boys stilled before shuffling more into the shadows. It didn’t matter that they were invisible. James’ mind was spilling. The First Task included Nundus? Dumbledore hadn’t been kidding when he said these were going to be challenges that a classroom couldn’t offer.
“I don’t envy those students… but I would’ve entered too when I was their age,” the first voice said with a laugh.
“I’m just glad Dumbledore is bringing in people to deal with the Nundus. You won’t see me anywhere near them and their poisonous breath. Frankly, it’ll be a miracle if they all come out the same way they go in,” Mr. Arbres said.
Peter tugged on James’ sleeve and started pulling him and Sirius in a different direction. They could find a different door.
“Don’t let them get in your head,” Peter whispered once they were outside. It was clear that James was thinking about the first task. “There’s fresh air charms. You’ll be fine.” He grabbed James’ arm and shook it. “You’re James fucking Potter! If anyone can do it, it’s you!”
James huffed a laugh.
Sirius, however, didn’t read the room. “Aren’t they bloody vicious though? Ain’t that why they need thirty people to manage two of them?”
“Padfoot!” Peter hissed. “Although it is curious. Why only two when there are three champions?
The boys looked at each other and shrugged. They hurried to the Whomping Willow and down the hole to find Remus, transformed and waiting. It would hit Peter later that he should’ve told James that he deals with a werewolf every month, a Nundu would be no problem.
When James woke up in the morning, he made a decision. He needed to find you. He waited until after breakfast, not actually knowing where you’d be and praying it wouldn’t be in the massive carriage. Luckily for me, you were outside of the library with some of your friends.
“Y/N.”
You looked up. Your bright smile from laughing at Winnie faded into a neutral expression.
“Can I have a moment?” James asked.
You stared at him blankly for a few seconds. This was your opponent and the task was only three days away. What on Earth could he have to say to you right now?
You sighed and stood up.
“If I’m not back in five minutes, know I’ve been sabotaged,” you said before following James a little ways away and out of sight.
“Don’t ask how I know this, but they’re bringing in Nundus for the First Task,” James said quickly and quietly.
You blinked. Part of you was expecting to get chewed out for what Trisha wrote, despite having been there for all of your interview.
“What?”
“They’re bring-“
“I heard you the first time, Potter.” You narrowed your eyes. “If I believe you, why would you tell me this?”
“Because I… I want to help you?”
“Because I need help?” you laughed disbelievingly. “Do I look like some damsel in distress?”
James’ mouth worked faster than his brain again. “It’s because you’re pretty.”
“Right. Sure. I’m your opponent, Potter, and I don’t need your help.” You rolled your eyes. “So don’t talk to me.”
“Less than five minutes,” Marius commented when you got back. “Guess no sabotage.”
“I guess not,” you said.
You watched James cautiously as he walked away.
For what it was worth, you did briefly look into Nundus. On the off chance that James actually had good intel and was sharing it with you, you wanted to be mildly prepared. Its main descriptors were resembling a massive leopard, toxic breath, moves silent and carnivorous. Not the most ideal creature to deal with.
The Great Hall was alive with something new on the morning of the first task. Armand and the rest of the students had no clue what the first task included. You had a sinking feeling in your stomach that James was telling the truth and you’d be facing off with an XXXXX-rated creature in a matter of hours. James, despite his friends’ best efforts, was stuck on Mr. Arbres comment: It’ll be a miracle if they all come out the same way they go in.
“Prongs, don’t let it get in your head,” Remus said. “You dodge bludgers on the daily. You perfected Ventus. You’re ready.”
“I might be ready, and I’ll be fine, but what about them? Mr. Arbres said-”
“Don’t matter what he said,” Sirius said, cutting James off. “They all entered on their volition.”
“That’s your sister you’re talking about,” James reminded him.
“And?”
He shrugged. “Just thought you’d be a little concerned about her.”
Sirius didn’t respond. He was still not totally convinced that you had talked about James and Armand during your interview with Trisha and not him and Regulus. He didn’t have any reason not to believe James, but he couldn’t shake it. Maybe it was all the summers you hid in your room while Walburga went off on him and Regulus.
Professor McGonagall walked down the length of the Gryffindor table and stopped by the boys.
“Mr. Potter. It’s time. Come with me.”
“Yes, Professor.” James gave his friends a forced smile and followed his head of house out of the Great Hall.
You and Armand had been gathered by your headmasters and the six of you headed out to where an open-air arena had been constructed.
“Mr. Arbres has told us that all the tasks will be held in here. Do with that what you will,” your headmistress told everyone as you walked in. They lead you and the boys to a large room with some chairs and four doors. Three of them were marked with one of your names, and the fourth simply said “Arena”.
“Your task uniforms are inside your rooms. You have an hour before you need to be back out here, changed and ready to go,” Professor McGonagall said.
No one moved.
“Well, go. Change. Settle your nerves,” she said with a gesture to the three doors with your names.
James nodded and headed to his, and you and Armand followed suit.
The door closed behind you and you were met with a smaller room with a couch, an armchair and a full-length mirror. A blue jumpsuit-type uniform was hanging from the mirror. You changed and then quickly decided that you did not want to wait in that little room. There were couches in the larger room; you could sit out there until it was time.
James had the same idea. While your uniform was solid blue, his was red and gold.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Fine.”
James frowned slightly at your short, clipped answer. You didn’t ask how he was. He hoped that you were actually not feeling fine and that was why you were acting colder than he wanted. For the next forty-five minutes, it was quiet. You fidgeted with your wand, going back and forth between pacing the room and sitting on the couch. James watched you, fascinated, the whole time. Armand didn’t come out until five minutes before he needed to.
The three headmasters came in along with Mr. Arbres and Mr. Frankiver.
“You are moments away from the first task,” Mr. Arbres said. “I suppose it’s time to tell you what’ll be expected of you.”
He cast an excited glance around the circle.
“There will be five totems within the arena when each of you starts. You need to collect all five within an hour. Of course, if you collect them before your time is up, you get more points and we can start the next champion’s attempt. These totems will be your clue for the next task.” His smile curled with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Finding the totems won’t be your only challenge though. There’s a beast out there that you must get past and it won’t be easy.”
Your eyes flicked to James and he gave you a small nod. A Nundu.
Mr. Frankiver stepped forward into the middle of the circle. He held out a bag to you.
“Pick a marble.”
You did as told. Then he turned to Armand and then James. Once all three of you had a marble, they all glowed bright for a moment before a number was burned onto the glossy surface.
2
“That is the order you’ll go in,” Mr. Frankiver said.
James held up his with the number facing out. “I’m first then.”
“Are you ready, Mr. Potter?” Mr. Arbres asked.
“You don’t even need to ask,” James said, giving him a confident grin.
“You’ll follow us into that room. Then you’ll wait for the cannon. Once that goes out, you’ll enter the arena and your hour begins,” Mr. Arbres said. “Let the games begin!”
The headmasters followed the two Ministry members, and James followed them. He looked over his shoulder at you and winked.
“No need to wish me luck. I’ll be back in no time.”
You rolled your eyes. Armand sat down on one of the couches as James disappeared out the door. You heard some muted announcement and then the boom of the cannon. You started pacing again.
There were cheers, gasps and screams. The moments of silence were more worrying for you. It went on for forty-eight minutes. Then there was a larger cheer.
Mr. Arbres appeared out of nowhere.
“Ms. Black. It’s time.”
You nodded and followed him into the smaller room between the waiting room and the arena. He walked out. From this room, you could hear the announcer.
“Ms. Y/N Black of Beauxbatons drew second. Please give her a warm welcome!”
Boom
You opened the door and stepped out into the light. Tall, dry grass was about all you could see. Looking up, you could see stands.
The Nundu. It was going to be fast, silent and trained on you. You’d have to avoid its breath. You needed to be quick and quiet while you searched for the totems. It would’ve helped if you knew what they looked like. Size, color, shape, anything.
There was a rustle of the grass.
“Shit,” you whispered before covering your mouth with your arm and breaking into a sprint into the opposite direction.
Not too far from where you started, the grass became less dense and shorter. Then you tripped. You swore louder this time. Fear of the Nundu paralyzed you for a few seconds; there was no rustling but you didn’t take that as a good sign. There was a sparkle in the grass where you tripped.
A totem.
You lunged to grab it and then held it above your head. The crowd roared.
You took a deep breath. You could do this. No magic used and you had a totem.
Rustling.
Right. You needed to keep moving.
“Avis,” you said, pointing your wand at where you had run from.
Birds burst out of the end of your wand and into the tall grass. The beast might like human flesh, but you could offer it other snacks.
“Serpensortia.”
A snake slithered into the grass.
You took off in the other direction. You had a lot of ground to cover with less than an hour on the clock. A small roar from the Nundu told you it was close. You sent more bird in the direction of the noise and there was another roar.
“Ventus,” you cast, blowing the grass down until you could see the Nundu.
Bad idea, you thought as the crowd gasped. While you saw the Nundu for the first time, it also saw you.
And there was another totem in between you.
It was a long shot. “Accio totem!”
“Ooh, looks like Black and Potter think the same!” the announcer said with a laugh. “Perhaps we should’ve told them that won’t work!”
You swore again. The Nundu started toward you, slow steps even though you knew it could take you out within a single second.
“Glacius-maximus!”
Ice trapped its feet long enough for you to sprint for the totem.
“Ventus!”
A gust blew the Nundu’s breath back at its face, which didn’t affect it at all, but at least you weren’t hit by it. You took off into the tall grass, and cast the Snake Summons spell again. Maybe the Nundu would see its movements and go after the snake rather than you.
You slowed to catch your breath. There was a small mound of dirt.
“Aguamenti.”
The dirt washed away to reveal another totem. Was this too easy besides all the running? You took a second to pocket the totem. Then a reckless idea crossed your mind.
“Incendio!”
There was a small crackling and then a woosh that filled the arena with an intense heat. Flames now danced around you as the dry grass burned. There was a pained roar from the Nundu, giving you its general location. It was far enough away.
Now you were able to see the area better, minus the smoke from the smoldering ground. You could see a totem not far from the door where you started. It was where the Nundu had started, which was why you hadn’t gone that way to begin with. The Nundu, despite its earlier pained roar, seemed to sense where you were heading and beat you there, standing over the totem as if guarding it. You swore and turned. Maybe you could loop the arena and somehow beat it back?
You conjured more birds as you ran. Something inside you said the more birds you conjured, the better. You could hear the Nundu chomping at them.
You jumped to avoid a chunk of grass that was still burning. You had three totems and knew where the fourth was. You just needed to find one more. You scanned the ground as you ran with the occasional conjuring of birds to distract the Nundu.
Squelch.
You stopped running. Mud? It seeped over your shoes. The arena seemed to hold its breath, waiting for you to squeal in disgust. Except you didn’t. You hadn’t noticed the small pond at this side of the arena, but you were glad you did now. You took two large steps and then you were sprinting into the shallow water. The last totem had to be in here somewhere. Why else have a pond in the arena if you weren’t going to put one of the items in it?
The more steps you took, the muddier the water got. You fell to your knees and started feeling around for something hard, something not mud nor sand. You looked over your shoulder for the Nundu. It was still chasing the birds from your last conjuring.
You felt the totem. You pulled it from the water and held it above your head, causing the crowd to cheer loudly. You stood and slowly walked out of the water. The last totem remained behind the Nundu. You moved as close to the wall as you could, not taking your eyes off of the Nundu. It had gotten bored with the birds. You tried conjuring more but it let them fly away.
“Sourisentia!”
A large number of mice appeared in front of you and ran into the field. Their squeaks caught the attention of the Nundu, giving you the chance to move more quickly and undetected. You tried another snake. You figured it would go after the mice and therefore hold the attention of the Nundu.
The Nundu heard you step on an ember as it popped under your foot.
You swore under your breath.
“Bombarda!”
The snake you had conjured was thrown into the air by the minor explosion you cast. The Nundu was caught off guard by the noise. You sprinted the last leg and as soon as your fingers wrapped around the last totem, multiple stunning snd freezing charms were cast at the Nundu.
“And she’s 11 minutes faster than James Potter!” the announcer said, his voice booming around you. “Excellent use of conjuring charms, and flawlessly done if you ask me.”
A man you didn’t recognize ushered you out of the main arena to a raised platform. You could see James sitting behind the headmasters, Mr. Frankiver and Mr. Arbres, with an empty chair next to him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the scores for Ms. Y/N Black are…” The announcer paused as each of the five adults in front of James tapped their wands on the table in front of them and a ribbon formed a number above their heads. “Eight, seven, nine, eight, six. That’s thirty-eight to Potter’s thirty-five. Well done, Ms. Black!”
The same man who helped you out of the arena gestured for you to sit next to James. He smiled at you as soon as you sat down. You felt it was unfair how casually attractive he looked, knowing he also just went face-to-face with a Nundu.
“You were brilliant,” he said.
“Thanks.”
The announcer said something along the lines of needing a few minutes to reset the arena before the final champion. You noticed a broom on the ground next to James.
“You flew?”
“Huh, oh, yeah. Really helped with avoiding the Nundu’s breath,” he said. “Strange it didn’t really try to poison you all that much. Maybe it liked your birds?”
You shrugged and turned your attention to the wizards who were regrowing the grass you had burned. James wanted to talk to you more about your task. You were so clearly gifted at Transfiguration. It must be a family trait, given how easily it was for Sirius to do the final parts of becoming an animagus.
The one good thing about you not continuing the conversation was that James couldn’t accidentally let it slip that seeing you stand among the flames was the hottest thing he had ever seen. It did something to him. If he hadn’t been sitting, he was sure he would’ve fallen to his knees.
You were curious as to how James got all the totems if he was flying. You literally found your first one by tripping over it. You can’t trip over something if you’re in the air. You didn’t ask. You didn’t want it to appear like you were colluding, especially since James had told you about the Nundu, giving you a slight leg up. You couldn’t be getting too friendly with the competition.
Neither of you spoke when Armand entered the arena. He was visibly shocked at the sight of the Nundu since he didn’t know what beast awaited him. You hadn’t thought to tell him to even the playing field. Just like you and James, he tried to summon the totems and failed, much to the announcer’s amusement. Then he used a dirt sifting spell as he moved through the grass. He was trying to stay quiet and not move the grass so as to not draw attention to himself. It might’ve been fine if the Nundu hadn’t been completely entertained while facing you; it seemed to be laser-focused on any irregular swaying of the grass.
Armand took the whole hour and only found four of the totems. He didn’t make it into the water. He spent a good chunk of time actually fighting the Nundu. According to the announcer, he was the only one to get dangerously close to the Nundu’s breath. He had been jumping out of the way and was painfully coughing and struggling to breathe when he got up. He needed fresh air and water, which he managed to produce from his wand, but it was still worse than you or James experienced. In the end, he only got 17 points.
Everyone was headed back to the castle. It wasn’t quite time for dinner, even though you were starving. Everyone around you kept congratulating you as they passed, even Hogwarts students who had been whispering harshly about you days before. Then Winnie, Trina and Daphne found you.
They nearly pulled you to the ground with their aggressive hugging.
“FANTASTIQUE! INCROYABLE!” Winnie screamed.
“You were unreal!” Trina said. “And Professor Klauser says you’re mediocre at Transfiguration!”
You laughed as your friends hyped up your performance.
“First place. Way to go, Black,” Marius said.
He and Trevor, another friend, joined your group.
“I wouldn’t’ve accepted anything less,” you said casually, despite the large grin on your face.
You were practically radiating from the positive attention. It was holding all of your attention to the point you didn’t notice or care that you were still in the task’s uniform until you actually reached the castle.
“Merde,” you muttered, looking down at your body.
“Hmm?” Daphne hummed. “Oh, shit.”
You looked up to see Regulus headed your way. Your friends had figured out which ones were your brothers. Regulus stopped in front of you. He had a neutral expression and his hands shoved in his cloak’s pockets.
“Not disappointing,” he said.
Then he nodded and left.
“Um, que?” Trevor asked.
“He just said he loved me. That’s new.”
“He said not disappointing?” Daphne said.
“It’s the same thing.” You looked down at yourself again. “Merde.”
“What now?” Daphne asked.
“I’m wearing… this!”
As if on cue, Professor McGonagall walked up to you. She was holding the clothes you left in the arena’s dressing room and she was being followed by a Ravenclaw girl.
“Ms. Black, these are yours. And this is Ms. Vance. She’ll show you where you can change,” she said.
She handed you your clothes and then walked off.
“I’m assuming you want to shower,” Emmeline Vance said. “Come on.”
Emmeline didn’t talk as she led you up some stairs. She gave a password to a door and it opened for you.
“It’s the prefects’ bathroom,” she explained. “So limited access and a lot nicer. You’re a champion so Professor McGonagall thought it’d be fine for you to use.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” you said.
You took your time with the scented water and various soaps. It was strange that the most elegant room in the entire castle would be a bathroom for prefects, but in that moment, you weren’t complaining. You wrapped a robe around yourself and started your post-shower routine. You heard the door open.
“Y/N?” James gasped.
You didn’t turn around, just kept doing what you were doing. “Potter.”
James hadn’t considered that they were letting all the champions use the prefects bathroom, although he didn’t see Armand there. He set his things on a bench by the shower and walked over to where you were. He was immediately hit with a delightful aroma.
“You smell nice,” he said.
“It’s the green soap,” you said monotonously.
James stood there, watching you. He didn’t say anything. He was appreciating how beautiful you were in such simplicity. You didn’t need anything additional to be stunning.
“Can I help you?” you asked after an odd amount of time of his staring.
“Only if you tell me about yourself.”
James was proud of him for giving an actual answer that wasn’t crude. He didn’t need to think about how you probably had nothing on under that fluffy robe and if he had gotten there a few minutes earlier… Right, he was not thinking about that.
“You can ask Sirius.”
“I’ve heard him talk for years. And he’s not you.”
You hummed, not giving him anything more. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to stay or leave. You had told him not to talk to you after he told you about the Nundu, but that had turned out to be correct. He had been okay during the interviews. Maybe you had overreacted?
“You’re excellent at conjuring. Professor McGonagall will be singing your praises on Monday. In every lesson, I bet,” he said after you said nothing.
“Wow, it’s almost like I was chosen to be a champion because I’m competent,” you snarked.
James’ smile widened.
“There’s a difference between competency and talent. And, darling, you are talented.”
You paused what you were doing to look at James. “Well, thanks, then.”
“So what other tricks do you have up your sleeve?”
“I can’t just tell you. How else am I supposed to leave you awestruck in the next two tasks?”
“I’ll be awestruck either way.”
You laughed and stood up. James watched as you neatly folded the dirtiest part of the jumpsuit to be on the side before tucking it under your arm.
“Go shower. You don’t smell nice.”
You gave him a small smile as you left. James sighed. He hadn’t really learned anything more about you, except that you really were your brothers’ sister. A little bit of attention and a lot of aversion to opening up. That, of course, only made him more interested in you.
You quickly discovered the effects of winning the First Task. You were now a people magnet. While you searched for your friends, countless people congratulated you, which you could tolerate. It was the handful who tried to stop you to have full-on conversations that ticked you off.
“My friends are waiting for me. Excuse me,” you said, brushing past some students who had tried to say more than “good job.”
At least when you were with your friends, people didn’t stop to talk to you as frequently. It was reduced to one or two brave souls. Then it was time for dinner and more than a few people tried asking your friends if they’d switch spots with them.
“I just want to listen to the leading champion talk,” a younger girl said.
“And you can hear her talk, from three seats down,” Trina said with an eye roll. “Merlin’s beard, everyone thinks they're entitled to you now, don’t they?”
You laughed along with your other friends. You figured the intense attention would last a day or two and then the upcoming holidays would take over.
You were wrong.
The next week continued with students from all three schools trying to be in your space. Boys flirted with you; girls tried to gossip with you. Everyone was too close. You started to strategically place yourself within your friends, and when you couldn’t, you started hiding in the shadows the best you could. You found longer, less populated routes to your classes. You did anything to avoid people.
To top it all off, the Yule Ball was announced. That day three different boys asked you to be their date.
“No offense, but I don’t know you,” you told one of them.
“This is the perfect chance to change that,” he said with a wink.
“Yeah, I don’t think so.”
Two more days and it seemed like there was an endless supply of boys, many who didn’t care if you were with your friends when they tried to ask you. It really pissed you off when a boy who openly despised you at Beauxbatons asked you.
“Just because I’m a champion doesn’t mean I’m any less annoying,” you snapped at him.
“Tu n’as pas tort…” he mumbled and left.
You were growing more and more annoyed with it. If you just had a tolerable date already, word would get around and they’d stop pestering you as much. You didn’t want to wait for a tolerable boy to come around, which meant taking things into your own hands.
“Marius!” you called, jogging to catch up to him after leaving the castle after dinner.
He slowed his pace for you.
“Have you asked anyone to the ball yet?” you asked.
Straight to the point. If he wasn’t taking anyone, he could take you.
“Erm, no. I haven’t. I think Trina was going to see if any of the Hogwarts boys were going-“ he started to say.
“Do you want to go with me?”
“What?”
“I’m a champion. I need a date. I also need to actually like my date. So, will you go with me?”
“Doesn’t the guy usually ask the girl?”
You narrowed your eyes briefly.
“Okay, fine. Marius, would you ask me to the ball?”
He chuckled with a short shake of his head.
“Y/N Black, may I have the honor of taking the Beauxbatons champion to the Yule Ball?” he asked with a bow and dramatic flourish of his arm.
You were certain all of your friends who were trailing behind saw, and you burst out laughing.
“Happy?” you managed to get out. When you caught your breath, you added, “But great. It’s settled. Thank you.”
James entered the Gryffindor Common Room with his friends. Sirius was coming up with people that Remus and Peter could ask if they didn’t want to ask a Gryffindor. James was only half-listening. Professor McGonagall said that he had to have a date to the ball, but he was honestly more worried about his Herbology essay that he hadn’t started yet.
“Oh, there’s Evans. I’ll be right back,” James said, patting Peter’s arm and walking away.
Peter sighed. “He’s probably going to ask her right now. Think she’ll say yes because he’s the champion?”
Remus shook his head. “She’ll always rather have something decent than suffer for prestige."
“You don’t think James is dece?”
“I’m saying Lily doesn’t think so.”
Lily thought the same thing when she saw James headed towards her. She mentally prepared herself to let him down.
“Evans! I need to ask you something,” James said.
She turned towards him with her arms crossed. Here it comes…
“How many different uses of Sneezewort did Sprout say we needed in our essay? I’m only seeing like three in the textbook and I’m still a few inches short.”
She blinked dumbly.
“What?” she asked once the realization that his question was school-related and not dance-related fully hit her.
“Sneezewort. How many uses do we need in the essay?” He paused. “Please?”
“It’s just the three uses from the book,” she said. “You’re probably missing the Invigoration Draught for potions.”
“You know, I think you’re right. Thanks, Evans. You’re the best!”
James turned around and headed up to his dorm where his friends had gone. Lily thought that was one of the weirdest experiences she’d ever had with him, but she wasn’t complaining that he didn’t ask her to the ball.
As James climbed the stairs, he realized who he wanted to go with. It wasn’t Lily. He had been asking her for almost two years and she said no every time. He actually hadn’t asked her out since you arrived at Hogwarts.
James opened the dorm door and said, “I’m going to ask her to the ball.”
“Evans?” Peter asked.
“No,” James said, as if it were ridiculous that Peter suggested such a thing. “Y/N.”
“No, you’re not,” both Remus and Sirius said at the same time.
They looked at each other with mildly confused expressions and then back at James.
Remus spoke first. “Didn’t she ask you to leave her alone before the First Task?”
“And it’s my sister! You can’t take my sister to the ball!” Sirius added, sounding much more distraught than Remus.
“I mean, she did say that,” James said to Remus. “But we’ve talked since then! She hasn’t been seething or anything.”
“Neither was Lily and you kept bothering her,” Remus said.
“Y/N’s not Evans.”
“Oh, I know,” Sirius said. “She’s my bloody sister! Who you can’t take to a ball!”
“Why not?” James asked.
“It’s my sister? That’s incest!”
“It’s not?”
“But what if she was your cousin? Would it be okay then?” Peter asked.
“Wormtail! Not helping!” Sirius yelled. “Prongs, don’t.”
James just smiled. He knew he was still going to ask you. Sirius didn’t control you, nor did he control James. James liked how you didn’t let people control you; you didn’t care what people thought and it gave the ability to be more free than others. Sirius didn’t want to be associated with his family so he made sure people knew, and Regulus cared about upholding the Black family name so he acted like his parents thought he was supposed to. You did what you wanted. It didn’t align with your family, but you weren’t going out of your way to ensure that everyone knew it.
James started trying to find the right moment to ask you. He’d prefer to do it alone. He didn’t know your friends - yet - and that made them a little off putting. However, you asking Marius to the ball didn’t spread as quickly as you wanted it to and people were still flocking to you. It had gotten to the point where you went off on your own to explore the castle with the hopes of finding the most unfrequented area.
And James had to find that area.
He tried using the Marauders’ Map but with all three schools, there were a lot of names to scan. It was almost easier to wander the castle.
That’s what he was doing when he did find you. You were in an unused-looking classroom down what you deemed too many flights of stairs. It was musty, but you were intrigued by the various objects on the shelves.
“No adoring fans down here?” James asked with an easy smile as he entered the room. His shoulders relaxed at finding you.
You barely looked up from the metal ball and its gears you were twisting.
“Adoring fans or twats who want to get into my pants?”
James chuckled awkwardly. He just wanted to take you to the ball and maybe if he got lucky, he’d be able to kiss your cheek. He wouldn’t deny the thought of something more had crossed his mind. But that wasn’t something he’d do with you right off the bat. With you, there was too much at stake.
You set the metal ball down.
“So you were looking for me?”
“Well, I, um, am I that obvious?” He ran a hand through his hair before walking further into the room.
“More like you’re not the type to just wander a school you already know. This-“ You waved your hand to the whole of the room. “-doesn’t seem like your go-to spot.”
He ran a finger along the top of a shelf. Dust coated his fingertip.
“It’s not.”
“Told you. So, you were looking for me. Why? Already figure out the twist in the second challenge?”
“The twist?” Oh, you were making fun of him for telling you about the Nundus. “Ha. Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”
“No, I haven’t figured out the totems yet. At least, not all the way.” Or at all. You weren’t going to think about them until after Christmas.
“Huh.” He adjusted his glasses and took another few steps toward you as you kept moving around the room. “Not what I was going to ask but okay.”
You looked at him over your shoulder. He had no right being so casually handsome. And he had been consistently kind to you despite your attitude and being his competitor. You waited for him to ask his question.
“Would you come to the ball with me?”
The words came out easily. It was too simple. Yet they hung in the air and you felt like all the air got sucked out of the room. Was he being serious? It was one thing to be friendly, but going with another champion was on a whole other level.
You blinked, not saying anything. James leaned his hip against a desk.
“Speechless? I do have that effect on girls.”
He wanted to smack himself upside the head. That line wasn’t something he knew you’d find charming. Even worse for him, the startled look on your face shifted into something more neutral, and James recognized the shift. It was a wall being put up. Sirius had done it many times during first year.
“I… I already have a date. And even if I didn’t, Potter, the answer’d be no. We’re competitors,” you said, trying not to rush your words. You no longer wanted to be in that room. “Thanks for the offer though.”
You were headed for the door, but James reached out.
“Wait!”
As soon as his fingers brushed your arm, you stopped and looked back at him.
“Who’re you going with?”
His eyes looked sad, disappointed, but he wasn’t accusing you of anything. He just wanted to know.
“Marius. He’s a friend.”
James nodded and let his arm fall. You gave him a weak smile and left him in the dingy classroom. You wished that the dorm situation was closer to what it was back at Beauxbatons; then you’d be able to hide away in there. But it wasn’t. So you were stuck with hiding your friends and avoiding eye contact with anyone but them.
Although disheartened, James didn’t let your refusal bother him too much. You already had a date and it was a friend. Just a friend.
A friend who you stayed by at all times now, not that James was looking for you every time he wasn’t in class.
He just happened to make sure that the Marauders were in the all-schools common areas in between and after classes. He was simply being social, that’s all.
Later in the week when it was just James and Remus in their dorm, James said, “I don’t think she hates me as much as you think she does.”
“She?” Remus assumed it was you, but James needed to learn to give context.
“Y/N.”
“You asked her?”
“Few days ago, yeah.”
“And clearly she didn’t hex you. Is that what you’re going off of?” Remus laughed. “Because there’s no way in hell you snogged her and didn’t say anything.”
James mocked his laughter.
“No, she didn’t hex me. I told you, we’ve talked and we’re good. But, Moony! Moony, Moony, Moony… she said we can’t go to the ball together because she already has a date annnd we’re competitors.“
A beat.
“I’m not seeing the significance,” Remus said flatly.
“You remember when I’d ask Evans out, yeah?”
“Impossible to forget.”
“She always had something to say about me being the problem. Like, me and her weren’t a good fit because of who I am. Whatever. Y/N. She said we’re competitors. That’s the reason why she can’t be my date.”
“And that she already has one.”
James sighed and fell onto his bed. “Yeah. And that. Stupid Marius.”
A few minutes passed with James staring at the ceiling. Remus was working on homework. He had asked Mary to the ball so he didn’t have to worry about finding a date.
“Shit. I need to actually find a date now,” James said, taking off his glasses to rub his face. “Who’m I going to take?”
Remus paused his writing, tilting his quill back and forth in his hand.
“Ask Sirius? I think he has a list of everyone available.”
James huffed a laugh. It would be the kind thing that Sirius would start as a joke but then get overly invested in.
He did end up asking Sirius in the morning. Sirius gave him a handful of names of Hogwarts girls whom he deemed tolerable and knew were still dateless. So in between classes, James found Peggy Coyne, a Hufflepuff who was a sweet girl but too mellow to be considered James’ type. She happily agreed to go with James.
Having a date took some pressure off of James. He could finish the term strong and put his focus on the totems. There was still plenty of time before the second task. He just hoped that he’d be able to figure it out.
But when he got tired of thinking about school and the second task, his mind always seemed to drift to you. You and setting the arena on fire. You and diving into the pond so easily. You in the Prefects’ bathroom… He had to adjust his pants. He needed things to go somewhere with you. Even if it was just one date, maybe just one kiss, so that he’d know how it felt.
So he held onto being your competitor and the endless possibilities for when he was no longer that.
On the night of the Yule Ball, you walked to the castle with Marius. He had greeted you with an “Ah, you look stunning as always” paired with a dramatic bow and kiss on the hand, which reduced you to giggles. You knew it would be a fun night. It was dancing with friends - what could be bad about it?
You and Marius waited outside the Great Hall as the rest of your friends walked in.
“Ms. Black, have you seen Mr. Hanes? I have Potter over there. You three will be entering the hall soon,” Professor McGonagall said as she pointed to where she had come from.
“No, ma’am. I haven’t.”
“Very well. Go stand with Potter and Ms. Coyne. I’ll find him…”
Marius followed you off to the side of the space where James was. From a distance, he had looked like he usually did, but up close you could see he tried to tame his hair and actually put in effort to his appearance. It was well done and worthwhile in your opinion. You gave him a polite smile, which he returned with a nod. His date was a pretty girl who looked like she made flower crowns in her free time. Knowing that James had wanted to go with you, it felt like a drastic change in taste.
James would’ve said hi if he knew that his voice wouldn’t crack. He also figured a simple nod was a lot less incriminating than the stream of compliments he wanted to give you. He and Peggy weren’t dating, but he had asked her. It would be rude.
He could tell you that you look beautiful later in the evening, he told himself. He wouldn’t let you leave the dance without letting you know.
“She’s looking for Armand,” Marius said, breaking the silence.
“He might’ve gone in already,” Peggy said.
You shook your head. “We were told explicitly to meet out here. He’s not that dense.”
James turned a snorted laugh into a cough. You gave him a peculiar look. He cleared his throat loudly.
“I’m okay.”
There were a few moments of awkward silence, with the light sound of music in the background. To stop yourself from staring at James and how good he looked tonight, you looked at Marius. You reached over to straighten his collar.
“Thanks, mum,” he said.
You patted his cheek. “Any time.”
e.”
Then you were waiting for McGonagall to find Armand. No one said anything more. It wasn’t long before she returned with him in tow and another girl.
“Champions, I’ll let them know that you’re ready. Do not go anywhere.”
The professor shot Armand a sharp glance and then she disappeared through the large doors of the Great Hall. Armand muttered something to his date in a language you didn’t speak. She giggled and leaned into his side. Professor McGonagall wasn’t gone for long. Reappearing at the doors, she gestured for the six of you to line up.
The music faded and a voice inside said, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Please welcome your champions as, per tradition, they have the first dance!”
Applause filled the air as you entered the hall behind James and in front Armand. It continued until you found your spots on the floor and the music crescendoed dramatically. Marius placed one of his hands on your waist and took your hand in his other. You took a half step closer to him before the actual dancing part began. It was a simple dance, one you’d learned ages ago. You had never actually danced with Marius before.
“Watch the toes,” he whispered after you stepped on his foot a second time during the one song.
“Told you I knew the dance, not that I was any good at it,” you whispered back.
Daphne had suggested you practice the dance with Marius after he agreed to go with you, and neither of you jumped at that idea. He had said something along the lines of ‘It’s too simple. What could go wrong?’
The song blended into a new melody and your headmistress joined the champions on the floor with one of your male professors. Other teachers followed her. Then students took the hint and joined in as well. There were two more formal songs. After that, higher tempo songs began playing and the dancing felt less choreographed. Some professors lingered on the floor to ensure that the dancing was appropriate. Others seemed more than happy to retreat to man the drink and snack tables, or to supervise by the walls.
You stayed near your Beauxbatons friends for a while. Marius started gravitating towards Trevor as Daphne, Winnie, and Trina got closer to you. You weren’t all that surprised when you saw them sitting at one of the tables off to the side of the hall.
“The boys gave up,” you laughed.
“Paresseux,” Winnie sighed before laughing.
After another song or two, you went to the drink table, needing a breather. You had barely grabbed a cup and stepped off to the side when James approached you. You took a slow sip.
“You look absolutely lovely,” he said. “Breathtaking, really.”
“Quite the charmer, aren’t you?”
“Are you charmed?”
“Shouldn’t you be charming your date?”
James chuckled and moved to stand to your right, looking out at the floor with you.
“I think we both know I’d rather be here with you.”
“Potter…” you sighed.
“I know, I know. Competitors.”
You nodded and took another sip of your drink.
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk to each other. Dance together?”
You coughed, trying not to choke on your drink.
“Just one dance. And if anyone says anything about it, we can tell them that it’s… good sportsmanship and I’ll be dancing with Armand next.”
“Good sportsmanship,” you laughed. “If you’re going to say anything else ridiculous, make sure I’m not mid-sip, okay? I plan on making it to the end of this tournament alive.”
“Noted. So… what do you say? One dance?”
You rolled your lips together before looking up at him. The most hopeful and beautiful eyes peered back at you from behind glasses.
“Would you actually dance with Armand if someone says something?”
“Yes,” James said, having never answered something so quickly in his life.
“Okay. One dance.”
As if some greater power was listening to your conversation, the music slowed down and James smiled at you. He offered you his hand. You downed the rest of your cup, placed it on a table, and took his hand, letting him lead you out back into the sea of people. Surprisingly, no one was paying either of you much attention.
His hands on your waist held you closer than Marius had, and his cologne was a pleasant smell, not something you would’ve imagined him picking. Your arms around his neck allowed you to feel his shoulders - muscular shoulders. You allowed yourself to forget the tournament for the song. You were just dancing with a handsomely fit bloke who wanted to dance with you more than anything, and while he was being forward, he wasn’t being aggressive with it.
With that mindset, by the end of the song, you were pressed against James, swaying, and his head was dropped, nose pressing into the side of your skull. You didn’t want the song to end. You enjoyed that one dance more than any before in your life and you knew it was because of James.
But the song was over so you pulled back from him, loosening your arms around his neck. You didn’t pull completely away from him yet. There was something in the way that he was looking at you. It made your heart skip a beat.
His eyes flicked to your lips and slowly, he started leaning in. You didn’t back away right away. You almost let it happen.
“James,” you whispered, turning your head and moving towards his shoulder. “One dance.”
You were reminding both of you.
“Right.”
Both of you took half-steps back. You smiled at him.
“Thank you for-“ He cleared his throat. “- the one dance.”
“Of course,” you said with a nod. “It’s, um, good sportsmanship.”
“Yeah, sportsmanship.”
You left James and the Great Hall for the girls’ lavatory.
He stood where you left him. You had waited until the last second before stopping him from kissing you. You had been holding him tightly. It was so nice! It felt like you thought the same but you were so focused on being competitors.
There was one thing he knew as he stood there amidst the dancing students: He was gone for you. He couldn’t understand how it got so bad so quickly.
You were just as confused. You stared at yourself in the mirror, gripping the sink like someone on the verge of a mental breakdown. James was… better every time you talked to him. How had a simple dance almost lead you to a kiss? He was your competitor; he shouldn’t be making your heart rate speed up. You couldn’t get feelings for him.
When you came back to the dance, you went straight to your friends. You refused to let yourself look at James. James, however, couldn’t look away from you. Your smile. The way your body moved. Your laugh. Everything.
The day after the ball, Sirius wasn’t speaking to James. James wanted to say it was because he was tired or drank too much when he got back to the dorm, but Sirius was talking to Remus, Peter, Marlene and Mary just fine.
“You good, mate?” James asked as they walked back from dinner.
Sirius gave him no answer.
“Padfoot?”
Still nothing. James frowned and as soon as they got back to the common room, James grabbed the back of Sirius’ shirt near his neck and pushed him to the stairs.
“What’s your problem?” James asked in their dorm with the door closed.
Sirius laughed harshly. “My problem? You want to know what my problem is? You! You and whatever this fascination with my sister is!”
“I didn’t take her to the ball,” James said calmly, crossing his arms.
“You might as well have! Staring at her all night? Dancing with her? I thought you were going to kiss her! What the bloody fuck was that?”
“I-“ James’ voice caught in his throat. It was easy to say in his head that he liked you. It was easy for him to see the tiniest signs from you that you might like him back. It was easy to say to himself that you only thought you couldn’t like James because of the tournament. Explaining all of that to Sirius wasn’t as easy. “I didn’t kiss her,” he said quietly.
“And the rest of it? You did stare. You did dance with her.”
“Because I do wish we could’ve gone together.”
Sirius threw his hands up and turned away from James as if giving up. “You can’t like her.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“You don’t even know her!”
“I’m getting to know her and… I can’t explain it. It’s just everything about her.” He sighed. “And it’s different than how I felt about Lily.”
“Is that supposed to make it okay?” Sirius asked, all but growling.
“I mean, it’s supposed to make you not hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Felt like it today.”
“You almost kissed my sister last night.”
“Then you should’ve almost hated me today. Or wait for one of us to break the other’s heart. Then you can hate one of us.”
Sirius laughed but this time it was warmer, mirthful. “Yeah, I’ll be picking you off the ground when she bolts.”
It was Marius, rather than any of the girls, who asked you about the dance with James.
“Did you actually dance with Potter?”
It wasn’t accusatory nor insulted, just disbelieving, which meant he hadn’t noticed it when it was happening despite being your official date to the dance. You turned over the totem in your hand that you were trying to figure out.
“Mhmm,” you hummed.
He sat down next to you. “Why?”
“Why? Um, he asked and I figured it was…” What had James called it? “...good sportsmanship.”
“Teresa says you looked cozy,” he said, mentioning a younger girl.
“She can say what she wants. James said he was going to find Armand and ask him to dance too. It was nothing special.”
Nothing special… That was a lie. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the dance since then, no matter how you try to distract yourself. His being your fellow champion meant that it was so easy for everything to lead back to him.
“The dance might not have been, but him staring at you all night probably was.”
You looked up from the totem. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, I know you don’t need me to spell it out for you.”
“I’m just his competition, Marius. I’m what’s standing between him and hundreds of galleons.”
“Uh-huh. I’m sure,” he said sarcastically, but he knew it wasn’t worth discussing with you since you’d dig your heels in. “So, that totem. Any ideas what it means?”
You didn’t. Each totem was different. Some of them had weird notching on top and bottom of them and others didn’t. As a group they had made no sense to you so you were trying to look at them one at a time, and you weren’t making any progress.
You could only hope that the boys were having the same amount of trouble.
Winnie was standing in your dorm, waiting for you to be ready to head to breakfast after the new term had started. You had the totems on your desk. She ran her hands over them.
“Huh,” she mumbled to herself.
One of the totems only had notching on its bottom and another only had it on its top, and the notching on the one’s top was the inverse of another’s bottom. She tried to stack them and they clicked into place with a loud snap.
“What was that?” you asked as she gasped.
She held up the stacked totems and practically shoved them in your face.
“THEY STACK!”
“What?”
You took the stack from her hands and looked at it.
“The notching,” she explained. “I thought they looked similar so I wanted to see if they fit together and they do!”
“Grab the rest!”
She hurriedly grabbed the other three and let you figure out which ones clicked together until you had all five combined.
“How did I not see this before?” you whispered.
“What do you think it means?”
“No fucking clue.”
You shoved the connected totems into your bag and left your dorm. Besides figuring out what it meant, you also had to decide if you wanted to tell James. You should. You know you should. He told you about the Nundu, which was honestly a bigger help than you would be if you told him. You went two days without saying anything.
You decided on a whim that you would tell him. You saw him turn for the boys’ lavatory on his way to lunch, so you told your friends you needed to use the loo. You waited in the corridor for him. He didn’t take long.
“Potter,” you said. “You got a second?”
His confused expression from someone saying his name as soon as he stepped out shifted into an easy smile.
“Y/N, always.”
He followed you into a shallow alcove.
“Have you figured anything out with the totems?” you asked.
He furrowed his brows and ran a hand through his hair. “Erm, not yet. Sorry… Is that all you needed?”
His pride took a blow at that. He thought you were going to say something about the dance. Maybe you were thinking about it as much as he still was and you couldn’t get him out of your head. Maybe you didn’t care that you were technically competitors anymore.
“They stack,” you said. “All of them. There’s notching.”
Pride was now only bruised, not completely blown to pieces. It wasn’t a love confession, but it was better than using him as a hint supplier.
“Notching?”
“I’m still working on what it all means, but I figure it’s something. And… I thought that you should know.”
“Yeah, okay. Thank you.”
You gave him a smile and headed into the Great Hall. Should you maybe have checked in with Armand and seen if he knew they stacked so that the playing field was completely level? Yes. But did you? No. He wasn’t any of your concern. James somehow made himself your concern.
“So the first one… No clue,” you said to Daphne, Winnie, and Trina as you all sat on your bed about a week before the Second Task. “I think the second one is a pixie? The ears and hands. Not sure what I’m doing with a pixie though. And that’s Hear No Evil. Like from the saying?”
“See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil?” Trina asked.
“Yeah. And that’s, um, a gardener? I don’t know. Same with the last one.”
“They have to relate to something you have to do,” Winnie said. She reached for the totems. “Freeze the pixie is your best bet there. And don’t listen to whatever is in three.”
“I’m so screwed,” you said.
“You set the arena on fire and made all the boys cum in their pants. I think you’re fine,” Trina laughed.
“I can’t seduce my way through the challenge…” You paused. “Can I?”
The girls laughed.
Each day passed with you getting no closer to understanding the totems. When you helped James, he seemed as lost as you were so that was a little comforting. You had no idea where Armand stood in all of it.
Like with the First Task, the three of you were gathered from breakfast and brought to the arena. You changed in your room and then you were pacing in the waiting room. James watched you from where he sat on the couch. His leg was bouncing with nervous energy. He had some idea of what he was walking into. Pixies and violent plants of some kind.
Armand remained in his own room until five minutes before they were told to be. Only Mr. Frankiver walked in.
“The three of you will be competing at the same time. Please follow me.”
You did as told. After being briefly blinded by the sun, you could see three tall, stone towers, each with a banner from one of the schools. You went to stand in front of the one with the Beauxbatons’ flag.
“The goal is simple! First one to the top earns the most points!” the announcer boomed. “Champions, are you ready?”
You waved to the stands. James gave the announcer a thumbs up. Armand adjusted his stance so that he was ready to sprint to the door.
“On the cannon!”
Boom!
Any thoughts of your competitors or the cheering stands vanished. You yanked the door open and stepped inside. You stood in darkness for a singular moment before torches lit up the room. It looked like a classroom with a door on the other side. You knew it wouldn’t be as simple as it looked. You crossed the room and tried to open the door.
Locked.
You looked around the room, really seeing what was there. It looked like a classroom. A potions classroom. You started inspecting the cauldrons and seeing which textbooks were on the shelves. A few of the desks had pre-measured ingredients set out.
“Sneezewort, eye of newt, boomslang skin… powdered…” You pinched the white powder and rubbed it between your fingers. “…daisies… Okay, maybe I need to…”
Your thoughts trailed off as you tried to lift the boomslang skin and it didn’t move. The same happened with the container holding the newt’s eye.
“Huh.”
You looped the room again. There were ingredients on the shelves around the classroom. You looked to one of the closer tables and immediately recognized it as a basic Pepperup Potion, only it was missing an ingredient.
You grabbed what was missing from the shelves and added it to the table. There was a click. A one-fifth circle slice glowed bright yellow on the door. Four more tables had piles of ingredients.
You moved to the next table and identified everything on it. You couldn’t think of the potion immediately so you moved onto the next one, hoping it would come to you. That’s how you kept moving about the room. One table to the next until you figured out what was missing. It was a little more nitpicky than you were expecting from a Tournament Task, but it was doable.
Before long, you placed the final ingredient on the fifth table and instead of a click, there was a chime and the door opened automatically. It revealed a staircase. You ran to it and up the stairs.
As you reached the top of the stairs, you could hear giggling. You were met with a door, but this one opened easily.
You sighed. You were right about the Cornish pixies. Hundreds of them flew around the room. They were fighting with each other, throwing various objects around, and causing general chaos. The door closed behind you with a loud thud and the room fell silent. Hundreds of pairs of beady, black eyes stared at you. You had a split second before you became their target.
Your hair was pulled. Objects thrown at you. You smacked away ones that tried to grab your ears to lift you up.
“Fuck this,” you mumbled. “GLACIUS!”
A frosty layer of ice blasted out of your wand and coated every pixie in your path. You cast it three more times to make sure each pixie was frozen. Then you crossed the room with ease. The door was unlocked and you headed up the next flight of stairs.
You thought that room had been easy. Too easy. The only justification for it was perhaps if you hadn’t been expecting them, you could’ve been easily overwhelmed by the sheer number of them.
You were still thinking about the pixies as you entered the third room. You stopped in your path and the door thudded shit.
The room was filled with fog. The fog was so thick that you could hardly see your hand in front of your face.
“Ventus,” you cast, but the fog remained.
You stuck your hand out, letting it disappear. It didn’t hurt. So you just couldn’t see. You could find the other side of the room. You started to move forward.
“Y/N?” a voice called.
You froze. That voice was far too familiar.
“Y/N? I’m scared,” it called again.
You realized who it was. Louis Verland. A muggle boy you met years ago over the summer. He barely counted as your first boyfriend, but he was your first kiss and you knew you’d always have a soft spot for him.
“Y/N! Help!”
Except why would the Ministry bring a muggle boy to a wizarding school? It didn’t seem right. You kept walking. Small steps, slow steps, and your hand outstretched to hopefully touch anything before you ran into it.
“Black! Fuck!” Daphne screamed somewhere in the fog.
That caught you more off guard. You spun, trying to figure out where she was. How had she gotten in here?
“Y/N! Please!” she yelled. “Hurry!”
There was so much pain in her voice. You turned away from the way you knew the door was.
“Where are you, Daph?” you yelled into the fog.
She didn’t respond.
Instead, you heard your favorite professor.
“Ms. Black! Augh!”
You stopped moving. Monsieur Bovine was at Beauxbatons. You knew that and hated it every day you woke up here at Hogwarts. It was frankly horrible to be spending your last year without any contact with your favorite teacher.
Then realization dawned on you. Hear no evil. They weren’t here. No one was in trouble. You weren’t supposed to listen to the voices.
You tried to retrace your few steps off course and started moving faster to find the edge of the room. At least then you could use the wall to find the door. The room felt larger than the previous two.
You thought you had to be getting close to the door when another voice called out your name. It was so pained that it physically hurt your heart. You didn’t turn around. You kept reaching for the door you knew was just out of reach.
Because there was no way James was in this room when he was supposed to be climbing his own tower.
There were more stairs. You opened the door and got blasted with humidity and the scent of plants. It was like stepping into a tree-less jungle. The plants that you did recognize did not leave a good feeling in your stomach. They were the type of plants that chose offense in order to survive. You didn’t know how to pacify any of them off the top of your head so you did what you always did: tried to light them on fire.
Except instead of flames, pale sparks fizzled out of your wand.
The room had been enchanted to damper fire spells. That would’ve made it too easy.
You tried to tiptoe forward, avoiding the Devil’s Snare. One more step. And you couldn’t lift your back foot. The plant had wrapped itself around your ankle. You swore loudly.
“Diffindo!”
Your ankle was freed, but you fell forwards onto another plant. You felt a sharp pain in your cheek. The leaves of this plant were razor sharp and cut more when exposed to blood. You forced yourself to stand up to get away from that plant. You wiped at your face and tried to keep moving.
Every step left you fighting with a new plant. Each required its own counter. You were swearing heavily by the time you finished crossing the room; it had taken you longer than the other three so far and you had no idea how far behind you were. At least there was only one room left.
You knew the drill. Up the stairs, through the door, and survey the room.
The final room was cluttered to the point where cluttered was too simple of a descriptor. A landfill or junkyard might be a more apt description. You couldn’t take a step without touching something new and potentially disgusting. What was worse was not knowing what you were supposed to be doing. You crossed the room to find the door locked. But there was a keyhole.
You turned back around to the room. So there was a key somewhere in all of the mess that would free you from the task.
You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Accio key?”
Nothing happened.
“Worth a shot,” you mumbled to yourself. You hummed. Then you said, “Levioso.”
Some items levitated off the floor, allowing you to move more freely and see more of the room.
You saw a desk in the corner of the room and decided to start your search there. A desk was a good place to put a key. Maybe it was a logic puzzle?
The key was not at the desk. However, there was a note that pointed you in the direction of the closet on the other side of the room. Inside the closet was another note. After following the note and the following two, you found the key underneath the deskchair’s cushion.
You never felt more relief than when you inserted it into the door and it unlocked. You opened the door.
Blinding light and deafening cheers met you. You looked to your right. Armand had already made it out of his tower. He waved to you. You turned to your left. There was no James. At least you hadn’t been last.
After James appeared, the announcer got everyone’s attention and said that the points would be given based on the order that you finished, giving Armand the most and James the least. You still have the most points over all. James’ first task points managed to keep him above Armand.
Staircases jutting out from the sides of the towers to let you down. Instead of going back to the castle right away, you made sure to change out of the jumpsuit.
James, still in his jumpsuit, waited for you. He had gotten stuck on the third floor and he couldn’t get what he heard out of his head.
“Hey,” he said when you came out of your room.
“Hi.”
He walked with you out of the arena. He didn’t say anything but something seemed wrong with him.
“You alright?” you asked. “You don’t need to worry about not doing well this task. You’re still above Armand.”
He shook his head. “The third floor… That was cruel.”
“Cruel?”
“Did… did you not hear-“ he started to ask you with wide eyes. Had it just been his tower that had the people he cared about crying out for him?
“People asking for help. That’s what I heard.”
“Just… people?”
“People I know.” You gave him a curious look. “Who did you hear?”
James looked straight ahead. He took a breath before saying, “My parents, Sirius, Peter, Remus, Professor McGonagall, some first and second years I’ve seen around… Marlene, Mary, Dorcas, Peggy, Lily, Emmeline. Some of my cousins. My neighbors back home. You.”
You grabbed James’ arm. You weren’t necessarily phased by him saying your name, especially given that you heard his.
“Merlin, that’s so many people.”
“I… I couldn’t find any of them. I couldn’t help them and they needed me.”
“James, none of them were in there.”
“I-I know that.”
“How could I have been there? I was in my own tower.”
“That’s, erm, actually how I was able to get out. That thought.”
“Everyone you listed off. They’re fine. No one needs your immediate help.”
“Right.”
You both kept walking. You wondered why James didn’t head off to find Sirius or any of his other friends. James couldn’t explain why he didn’t. He knew he needed to be by someone he heard in the tower to remind himself that it wasn’t real, but he heard all of his roommates. He could be in the presence of three of the people he heard, yet he stuck with you.
As you walked into the castle, you asked, “Are you going to be alright?”
He nodded, but you could see the worry in his eyes. That room had messed with James in a way that you couldn’t quite grasp.
“You’re Hogwarts’ champion. You’ll be okay,” you said, hoping that your confidence in him might help.
You placed your hand on his arm briefly before heading to where your friends had started hanging out regularly. James took a deep breath as you walked out of sight.
You were okay. His family was okay. His friends were okay. The young students were okay.
He kept repeating that in his mind. If he kept telling himself that, maybe he could shake the feeling someone was hurting and he couldn’t help them.
You didn’t think about that task any further. You had other things to worry yourself over. You were in your last term at school before you’d graduate and be able to go out into the world as an adult. You still had plenty of time before the final task, which you knew was always a maze of some type filled with various obstacles. There was really no way to prepare for it rather than focus on school and learn as much as you could.
To put it shortly, you weren’t losing any sleep over the voices you had heard. You may have thought about the fact that you heard James’ voice, but you didn’t linger on it to the point where it affected you.
Three weeks had passed since the task and you found yourself unable to sleep. You couldn’t figure out why you could fall asleep. You weren’t worried. There were upcoming tests or incredibly difficult homework assignments. The final task was still a few weeks away. You didn’t feel ill. You had no reason to not be able to fall asleep.
You raised your dorm’s curtain with the intent to open the window. Maybe you needed some fresh air. You didn’t get to the opening part. You could see a figure in the distance, sitting on the hill near the Black Lake, and you decided you’d go see who it was. Your stomach told you it was James. You had no reason to think it was, yet you knew it was.
Sneaking out of the carriage was much easier than sneaking out of the Beauxbatons school building would’ve been, and then you were crossing the grassy field with a blanket from your bed draped over your shoulders. You should’ve grabbed your cloak, you thought to yourself as you pulled the blanket up from sweeping the ground. As you got closer, you realized your gut feeling was right. It was James sitting there. It was rather embarrassing how easy it was for you to recognize him by his messy hair and shoulders from behind.
“Bit cloudy for stargazing,” you said once you got closer.
He jumped at the sound of your voice, but looking over his shoulder at you, he gave you a small smile. You sat down next to him. You didn’t notice him shift a shimmery fabric on his other side to be more under his leg and out of sight.
“So if we cross off stargazing, what are you doing out here?” you asked.
“I can’t sleep… What about you?”
“Same. But don’t you have a common room with a warm fireplace you could be sitting in front of? You know, inside?”
“It’s too quiet in there.”
He didn’t need to expand on that. The wind and the trees and the water made enough noise by themselves, and if you really listened, you could hear animals in the forest. The fireplace might’ve crackled and you might catch a loud snore, but the common room couldn’t compare.
“I can’t unhear them,” James said.
You didn’t need to ask to know what he meant. It had been weeks, but you knew he was talking about the Second Task.
“If it’s too quiet or too dark or too… nothing… I hear them again. I can’t stop hearing them and feeling… useless. Bloody helpless because I can’t do anything.” His voice cracked. “I can’t stop thinking about it and I just… Fuck…”
You were going to look at James and remind him that it wasn’t real and it was just a part of the task that he did finish. Then you saw his red-rimmed eyes. He wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he was going to cry. Rather than witness that, you stared at the soft waves on the water.
“You know, I think it’s good that it messed you up,” you said. “It proves how much you care about the people in your life. You are so… all-in with the people you love. You would do anything to help them if they needed you.”
“Anyone would,” he croaked.
You shook your head. “I don’t think so. Otherwise me and Armand would be unable to sleep too. And it’s crazy that you had a whole list of people; I only heard four.”
“You weren’t there as long as-”
“I wasn’t there long because I knew I couldn’t help those people. If they were actually in that room, needing my help? I would’ve been no help to them. It’d be something I couldn’t handle.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, um, seeing them need my help, I guess. I wouldn’t be able to do anything.”
“Why?” If there was one thing James was good at, it was avoiding his problems to talk about someone else’s.
“It’s… It’s who I heard. Um, my favorite professor back at Beauxbatons, Monsieur Bovine. And Daphne. She’s, uh, she’s good, but seeing her hurt or in pain… Yeah.” You pursed your lips thinking about it. Then you laughed softly. “And this muggle boy. I met him in London like four years ago? I actually haven’t seen him in over a year, but I knew I couldn’t help him. If he was in that room, something beyond my abilities was going on.”
“Can I ask what’s special about him? If he’s just a muggle you haven’t seen recently?”
“He was my first kiss.”
“Oh,” James said. He sniffled. “And the fourth?”
You hummed in confusion.
“You said you heard four people. That’s only three.”
“Oh, um, yeah. The fourth… Well, if he needs help, we’re all screwed.”
“Must be pretty special then… Who is he?”
You didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t lie to him; that’d be cruel. It also felt strange to admit it out loud weeks after he said that he heard you and you didn’t tell him then.
“You.”
James chuckled, expecting you to join him. Except you didn’t. You just stayed quiet, staring up at the sky.
“Wait, you actually heard me in the tower?” James asked, sitting up straighter and turning his body towards you. “Y/N?”
You nodded, and then you hugged your knees to your chest.
“Over your brothers?”
“They have other people to look out for them. They’ve never needed me. They wouldn’t need me. I doubt they’d ever think to call out for me.”
“Over Marius?”
You gave him a slight side-eye.
“Marius?” you asked. “Why would I hear Marius?”
“You went with him to the Yule Ball,” James said with a shrug, trying to feign nonchalance and failing.
“I did. That doesn’t mean anything though.”
“And you heard me?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
He waited to see if you would say anything more. He let out a breath.
“I… I don’t see how I rank,” he said.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to.”
“No, erm. You actually heard me?”
You gave him a faux-annoyed look. “I’ve already told you yes.”
He stared at you, eyes flicking to your lips. More than once. You really thought he was going to kiss you and if he had, you’re not sure if you would’ve stopped him.
But instead of kissing you, he reached for your hand.
“Is this something competitors can do?”
You slowly interlaced your fingers. “I think so. It’s… good sportsmanship.”
James smiled and you sat like that for a little while. He couldn’t believe that you actually heard him in the room where you heard people you really cared about. Maybe it made sense if he thought about how you let him hold you while dancing. And now you were holding his hand back. He would’ve been content to just hold yours, but you interlaced them. That was all you.
He was distracted by thoughts of you possibly liking him back that he didn’t actually notice you scooting closer to him. It didn’t register with him until you rested your head on his shoulder. You were growing tired. James provided some kind of comfort that eased you into a relaxed state.
Without saying anything, he switched the hand you were holding so that he could put his arm around you. You didn’t object. He was surprisingly warm, having been sat out there longer than you and you were already getting a little cold. He rested his head on yours for a short while.
Eventually, you found yourself fighting yawns.
“D’you think you’ll be able to sleep?” you asked after a while.
You were comfortable and didn’t really want to move, except for knowing that if you stayed for too much longer, you would fall asleep, and you didn’t want to think about the consequences of being caught sleeping wrapped in your competitor’s arms outside. That had to be against some rule. You weren’t discussing the tournament so maybe it wasn’t cheating. You didn’t know and you’d rather not find out.
“I think so,” James said. “You headed back?”
You hummed affirmatively, and he removed his arm from around you. Then he helped you stand up.
“I’ll walk you back,” he added.
“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll be okay.”
“I want to. … And my way back into the castle is that way so…”
“Okay.”
You didn’t say anything more. You walked in silence back to the carriage and James gave you a little wave before you slipped through the door. He turned the corner of the carriage and put on his Invisibility Cloak. If anyone else had seen him, they would’ve thought he was in the imagination.
That night helped James moving forward. Whenever his thoughts trapped him back in that foggy room, he remembered holding you and how you leaned into him. He remembered that you had heard him. It was enough to pull him out.
James kept an extra keen eye out for you whenever he wasn’t in class. If there was a smidgen of a chance he could see you, he was looking. If he did see you and made eye contact, you gave him a tight-lipped smile and kept on your way. He didn’t understand that.
You needed to keep your head clear. You had two goals in front of you: finish school, survive the tournament. Neither of those were “get a boyfriend.” Especially when said boy is your competitor and best friend to one of your brothers. Seeing and knowing that James looks for you only made you want to spend more time with him. So you kept to yourself.
“Did you shag her or something?” Sirius asked after seeing your barely-there smile as you passed the boys’ table in the library.
“We didn’t shag. Haven’t even kissed her,” James sighed.
“Then what? I’d say that looks like her bolting, but you don’t seem broken.”
“It’s nothing.”
Nothing for Sirius to concern himself with is what James meant.
Whatever was between you and James just wasn’t concrete. He wondered if he had kissed you that night on the field that things would be different right now. You had told James, to his face, that he was special and you wouldn’t be able to function if he was so in trouble that he needed your help. And he hadn’t kissed you.
Idiot.
He held your hand and then put an arm around you in lieu of a kiss. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“Are you feeling okay?” Daphne asked when you sat down next to her.
“I’m fine.”
She scoffed a laugh. “Do you think me dense? I’m fine. Say that to your face.”
“I’m just trying to stay focused. There are just some…” You looked in James’ direction. “… distractions that are trying to pull my attention.”
She followed your gaze.
“Sirius or James?”
“Well, it’s not my brother.”
She gasped and grabbed your arm.
“You can’t leave me hanging! What do you mean? He’s pulling your attention?”
“Shut up!” you whisper-yelled. “It’s nothing.”
“My nothing or your nothing?”
You made a face. “Nothing is nothing.”
“No,” she laughed. “My nothing is actually nothing. Your nothing is there’s something there but you’re refusing to acknowledge it. You know, how there was nothing with Paul.”
“Because there was nothing.”
“He was in love with you.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Am I delusional about Potter?”
You clenched your jaw. “No.”
“So it’s not nothing. You just don’t want to talk about it, hmm?” She grinned at you while resting her chin on her hand. “Le pauvre bébé aime un garçon.”
“Ta gueule.”
Daphne gasped dramatically, but she dropped it. Getting you to admit that you like James out loud, even in the vague, roundabout way that you did, was an accomplishment. Being that she knew that you were avoiding your feelings, she helped steer conversations away from your behavior. It was nice to have her in your corner.
It was difficult to believe how quickly time passed after that. Far too soon, in your opinion, you were putting on the jumpsuit for the last time. Part of you didn’t want to wait in the waiting room like you had before the first two tasks. James was guaranteed to be out there. A larger part of you couldn’t sit in your dressing room. So you went to the larger room to pace.
Like you predicted, James was out there.
“Hey, Y/N,” he said, standing and pushing his glasses up his nose.
“James.”
“I… I wanted to wish you luck out there.”
You nodded. “Thank you. You as well.” You paused, momentarily debating letting it end there. “Do you feel ready?”
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. You were continuing the conversation. It might’ve been because he had stood up and you still had half an hour until it was time for the task, but you still said something more than thanks.
“After last task? Godric, no. What about you?”
“Without knowing what’s inside the maze, I’m as prepared as I can be. Practically all my learning is behind me.”
“Right. D’you think you’ll still have to take finals if you win?”
You sighed with an easy smile. “It’d be amazing if I didn’t. I would rather die than redo my final year after winning.”
“Why so confident you’re going to win?” Armand asked, stepping out of his room.
“I mean, it’s hypothetical,” you said.
James watched your smile fall and walls go up. So much for a calming conversation before going out into the arena.
“What’ll you do if you win?” James asked. Maybe he could ease the tension.
“You didn’t listen to Trisha or read her article?” he snapped.
“Uh, not really…”
James was talking to you while Armand was being interviewed and when he read the article, it was to explain to Sirius that your portion was filled with misquotes and lies. He barely processed his portion of the article and skimmed Armand’s.
“Maybe you changed your mind,” you said. “I wouldn’t say I’m the same as I was when we talked to that bitch.”
“Wow, bitch, huh? Because she published what you said?”
“I didn’t say-!” you started to yell as Mr. Arbres, Mr. Frankiver, and the headmasters walked in.
“Little tense in here, champions,” Mr. Arbres said with a cheeky smile. “Do you feel moments away from victory?”
“More than moments,” you muttered, and James elbowed you lightly.
If Mr. Arbres heard or cared for your comment, he didn’t show it. “As I’m sure you know, the last task is a maze. The Triwizard Cup is hidden within. Professor Sprout hid it this morning and she has told no one where it is. Not that it’d do us much good if she did.” He paused to laugh; you didn’t catch what he found funny. “And it’s fairly simple from there. First one to find it wins it all. Your current point standings determine the order you enter the maze.”
“That’s not fair!” Armand protested.
“Hmm?”
“Y/N gets the most time in the maze? What if she finds it before I even get in there?”
Mr. Arbres smiled firmly and reached over to pat Armand’s shoulder.
“You’ll understand why that’s simply not possible when you enter.”
“Alright. Follow me. Let’s begin the Third Task,” Mr. Frankiver said.
The group followed him out the door leading to the arena. As usual, the crowd cheered. The towers were gone; they were replaced with hedges taller than 10 feet. You weren’t sure how the students were going to watch, and then you realized that you had no clue how they watched the Second Task. Not that it was your main concern right now.
“Being that she scored the most points in the first two tasks, Y/N Black will enter the maze first!” the announcer said, their voice drowning everything out.
You didn’t process much else as a cannon went off, signaling the start of your time. You entered the maze. After you took a few steps, there was a strange rustling noise behind you. The hedges closed off your way in.
“So that’s what he meant,” you mumbled.
You figured there was no strategy for finding the cup. It wasn’t like you could stick your right hand out and follow the edge until you were out of the maze. You had to find something in an ever-changing maze. You’d hear the rustling again after passing a fork in your path. There was no going back.
The first you encountered that wasn’t a hedge was a dark mongrel. It was pacing around a wider stretch of path, as if waiting for the first champion to cross it. You didn’t give it the opportunity to react to your presence. You hit it with a string of offensive spells. It yelped and collapsed on the ground. You hurried past it, not giving it the chance to recover and attack.
Every so often the hedges would shoot out vines that wrapped around your arms and ankles. Diffindo quickly became your best friend.
You heard a yell somewhere in the distance. It was the first sign of the other champions since you entered, which you found odd. You felt like you should’ve heard their cannons go off.
Your path was blocked by a pool of water. It felt too shallow to make a bridge over so you waded through it. Halfway across you felt a burning sensation on your ankles. The water was murky, but a little further away you could see yellow spotted creatures moving erratically. You watched as one spewed a dark substance in your direction. You tried your best to sprint out of the water.
You rinsed your ankles off, hoping it would soothe them. It didn’t. You tried to remember what those creatures were and what remedied their venom, but your brain wasn’t cooperating.
On the other side of the water, you were met with a forked path and you could see what obstacles await you in each direction. To your left was fog and you did not want to risk it. To the right was a three-headed snake. It was also something you wanted to face off with but your options were limited.
You took the right path and a vine wrapped itself around your thigh.
“Diffindo,” you cast immediately, drawing the snake’s attention to you.
The three heads appeared to be sizing you up. You moved towards it slowly. Maybe you could slip past it without it registering you as a threat. You just needed to get by. As you got closer, one of the head’s eyes narrowed and another started bobbing in a way that mimicked your walking. You swallowed nervously, but you didn’t stop moving.
It twitched and you yelled, “DEPULSO!”
You sprinted away, hoping it wouldn’t follow you. That was only a hope. If you looked over your shoulder, you would’ve seen it slithering after you with all three heads on high alert.
You didn’t look back. There was no need to because ahead of you on top of an elevated platform was the cup. You’d have to find a way up there and fast.
Not because of the snake, but Armand was running at the platform from a different direction. You knew you’d laugh later about him being worried about your time advantage.
Not sure how you were going to go up, you cast a ripple spell, causing the ground under Armand’s feet to rise and fall like waves.
“Wha-?” he yelled before dropping a long string of swears as he fell to the ground.
Then you heard hissing behind you. You finally looked over your shoulder to see it had followed you all the way here and it was angry. You were reaching where Armand was struggling to stand up as the ground was still unsteady. You could practically feel the snake getting closer to you.
At the edge of the rippling ground as it was beginning to wear off, you lurched to the left. It was pure luck. For you, at least.
The snake had been mid-strike to bite you, but with you no longer directly in front of it, it went for the next closest person: Armand. He screamed in pain as the heads started biting him.
“Ascendio!”
Your body shot vertically in the air and you aimed for the platform. It wasn’t a soft landing. The moment you wrapped your hand around the cup, the platform started moving higher until you were far above the hedges and you could see everyone in the stands.
“We have our winner! Y/N Black is the Triwizard Champion!” the announcer said.
You lifted the cup in the air, beaming. Nothing happened for over a minute. It was just you and the cheering students. Then you felt the platform start to move. It brought you over to where you entered the maze, and shortly after, two more platforms brought over James and Armand.
James was smiling as widely as you were; if he didn’t win, he was glad it was you. Armand looked bitter, at least as much as he could as he held his torso, which was oozing some kind of bodily fluid and puss. You didn’t get to talk to either of them as Trisha and her photographer appeared to whisk you away.
You stood next to your headmistress for a phone. Then Trisha got out her notepad and smiled at you.
“No comment,” you told her before turning around.
You disappeared through the door that led to the waiting room. You were not going to give her another interview to twist into whatever she wanted, which apparently was family drama. You didn’t see where James and Armand had gone. Neither one was in the waiting room. You grabbed your clothes and decided to head for the castle. You wanted to shower in the Prefects’ bathroom.
Clearly, you hadn’t been thinking. A crowd of students was loitering around the exit of the arena, waiting for you. You opened the door and immediately they bombarded you with questions, compliments and congratulations. You smiled and thanked them. You tried your best to keep moving.
Not too far ahead of you, you spotted one of the few people you actually wanted to talk to.
“Hey Potter!” you yelled.
He turned toward you and people seemed to make way for you to approach each other.
“Hey Champion,” he said with a wide, genuine smile.
“You know, I just realized something.”
He tilted his head slightly. “What’d you realize?”
You carefully set the Cup and your clothes on the ground. Then you grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him down to your height.
“We are no longer competitors,” you said before closing the gap between you, not caring about the gasping students around you.
