Elastic Hearts
Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x Third-year Lab Partner Reader
Synopsis: Leona takes care of you after a lab disaster and learns a little more than you intended to reveal.
Tags: SFW, but occasionally suggestive, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, potion use, reader is a little insecure
Word Count: ~15k
Perhaps your measurements were off. Perhaps your stirring technique still hasn’t improved. Perhaps the fire was too hot. Perhaps your magic hadn’t been steady enough.
Ah. It probably was your magic. Your stupidly unstable magic. Will you ever learn to channel properly?
It doesn’t matter now.
The thunderous explosion has already taken you and your fellow third-years by surprise. Professor Crewel is quick to do damage control, using a spell to contain the smoke and prevent it from spreading to the remainder of the lab. There is no saving you, though. Having been standing directly over the cauldron, you end up enveloped in the huge puff of neon pink.
The air is heavy. Your lungs burn. Trying to breathe only results in what feels like an eruption in your chest. A coughing fit overcomes you.
With your ears still ringing and your vision spinning, you try in vain to force yourself off the ground. Your limbs feel heavy. You can barely register a pair of arms wrapping around you, helping you to your feet and guiding your stumbling body out of the lab before propping you up against the nearest wall. You try to suck in as much fresh air as possible, but the tightness of your traitorous lungs refuses to yield.
“Keep still, puppy. Don’t panic.” Crewel appears above you, using a firm but gentle grip to press your shoulders against the wall. His gloved fingers brush over your cheeks and nose, ridding your face of pink dusk.
“You don’t have any burns,” he mutters, seemingly more to himself than you. His voice comes to you as though it were travelling through water.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sir. You’re not sure you manage to say it out loud. If you do, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s probably so used to you making messes for him to clean up that your apologies no longer mean anything.
“Thankfully, you were wearing your goggles. There’s no saying what might have happened to your eyes otherwise. Good pup.”
Good pups don’t usually blow up potionology labs.
Crewel’s hands drop to the buttons of your lab coat as his gaze momentarily drifts to a spot behind you. “Help me get this coat off so she can breathe more easily.”
The wall at your back shifts, beginning to grumble incoherently before cutting itself off with a sneeze that sends vibrations through your body.
Wait. Walls don’t usually do that, do they?
A second pair of hands appears from behind. They drag your lab coat off your frame before getting to work on your goggles and gloves. Still lightheaded, you carefully tilt your head to look over your shoulder.
The sneezing, grumbling wall is Leona Kingscholar. The last person you want seeing you like this.
The sight of him glaring down at you with narrowed emerald eyes causes your breath to hitch and pulls a few more coughs out of you. You try to peel yourself off of him, but Crewel’s grasp holds you firmly in place.
Satisfied with your unbuttoned uniform jacket and your loosened tie, the professor meets your gaze once more. “Steady breaths, now. Are you in any pain?”
You blink slowly. “Head hurts,” you mumble. “ ’m dizzy and my chest feels tight.”
“Noted. Don’t fret, little one. Kingscholar will take you to the infirmary.”
“I will?” You could practically hear your classmate’s eyebrows shooting up.
“Yes, you will.” Crewel finally released his hold on you. Now that you are no longer tacked onto the man behind you, you try to regain your footing, but this time, Leona’s hands are the ones that still your movements, using his grip on your shoulders to pull your back flush against his chest. He begins to protest but is cut off by his own sneezing.
“You’ve barely been doing anything all class,” continues your teacher. “I was surprised you even bothered to show up, so you might as well make yourself useful for once. I’m not sorry if this gets in the way of your plans to nap in the back. I need to figure out what went wrong with the prefect’s potion so I can help her avoid any long-term effects.” His eyes return to you. “I will visit you soon for a more thorough evaluation and to administer any healing potions I deem necessary. Just rest until then.”
With that, Professor Crewel scoops up your pile of discarded outerwear, drops them into a large trash bag you don’t remember him having, and disappears into the laboratory.
Leona’s exasperated sigh ruffles the top of your hair. “Great start to a Monday morning.”
You turn in his grasp to look at him, and he makes no objection. Perhaps this is what emboldens you to step away from him, making one final attempt at standing on your own, but you begin to wobble almost immediately. He is quick to grab you, placing his hands under your armpits and gripping you almost tightly enough to bruise your flesh.
“Don’t make this any more of a pain than it needs to be.”
The ground disappears from beneath your feet, and you come face to face with a white surface. You panic for a moment before realising that Leona has hoisted you over his shoulder and that you’re staring at the back of his lab coat.
“Leona!” You dig your fingers into your back as he begins walking. “I’m already dizzy.”
“Were you expectin’ bridal style, princess?” You feel his sarcastic quip reverberating beneath your hands and chest.
“Put me down!”
“This is quicker,” he argues. He tightens the grip he has on your body as though he’s afraid you’ll start thrashing any second. “It’ll be a real hassle to help you walk over to the infirmary. Just get nice and comfortable up there; it’ll be over in a second.”
You don’t respond, trying your best to avoid focusing on the movement of the floor beneath you. You hold your breath in an attempt to keep your insides inside, but you only end up feeling as though sharp claws are scratching at your lungs.
At least this shitty feeling is a distraction from the fact that, in his attempt to stabilize you, one of your crush’s palms just accidentally groped your ass.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
You don’t remember the infirmary being this far. Perhaps it only feels as though you’ve been precariously balanced on Leona’s broad shoulder forever. His fingers now dig into your lower back and one of your thighs. Being upside down is making your light-headedness worse, and Leona’s swishing tail keeps invading your vision. It drags to the left, bounces a few times, then returns to the right to finish the lap.
Left. Right. Left. Right. Swish. Swish. Swish, swish, swish...
Maybe if you just reach out and—
“Oi!” Leona snaps at you. “Let go, or I’ll drop you, you damn brat!”
“Sorry, it’s ju— Ow!” Leona’s tail rips itself out of your loose clutch and lashes at your back before the tuft drags down your shoulder and neck, ultimately disappearing from your sight. “It’s just moving and making me so nauseous. Feels like I’m gonna throw up.”
“You better keep it down, herbivore. If you vomit on me, I swear I’m gonna...” He swallows the threat. “This wouldn’t have happened if you ditched with me like I told you to.”
“I know, I know! I needed the practice, though. I’m so shit at potions and I—” One of your hands releases his lab coat and flies to your mouth, which is rapidly filling up with spit. “Leona! Ugh, ’m gonna— put me down right now!”
You are suddenly upright once more, but the bile is already rising in your throat. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re seated on the edge of a bed with Leona’s fingers tangling into your hair and forcing your head down into an empty trashcan. You hadn’t even realised you’d entered the infirmary.
Your throat and nose burn, and tears leak from your eyes. The stream feels endless.
For a moment, you think it’s over, allowing Leona to remove the bin from beneath you. “Shit,” he mutters, baring his sharp canines as he grimaces. “That’s fucking gross.”
You don’t have time to argue, too focused on snatching the bin back for round two.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
A cool palm presses against your forehead. “Still burnin’ up.”
You peel your eyes open to meet Leona’s emerald gaze. He’s changed into his P.E. uniform and pulled his hair back. His eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration. “You look like ass. Still got a headache?”
Your throat feels raw as you try to force out a response. “Mhm... might die...”
You glance around the infirmary. The curtains are drawn tight and the light directly above you is off. The candles on each bedside cabinet are lit, filling the room with a green hue. There’s light spilling into the room from the hallway and from a room in the corner.
“That easy to kill you, huh?” He smirks down at you. “Shoulda told me sooner, brat.”
“ ’m not a brat.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He slides off the infirmary bed and walks out of your line of vision.
You wince as you force yourself up a little, letting your weight rest on your elbows. “Are you leaving me?”
“What,” he scoffs, “I take my hands off you for a few seconds and you’re already missing me? You’re like a clingy cub.” You hear him rummaging around for a few moments before he returns with a glass vial. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s just time for another dose of your medicine.”
Another dose? “Did Crewel come by already?”
He pauses in his tracks, levelling you with an incredulous stare. “Jeez. You really are that out of it, huh?” He tosses open the curtains of the nearest window. “Any idea what time it is? He’s already checked on you four times and force-fed you two doses of this stuff.” He adopts a mocking tone. “You even tried fighting the poor guy after all the trouble he went through to make this for you.”
You sit up fully, pressing a palm to your warm temple in a feeble attempt to soothe the throbbing as you stare blankly through the window at the night sky. You prod at your memories for any recollection of the past few hours to no avail. “Is that why my mouth tastes so gross?”
“No,” he deadpans, “your mouth’s nasty ’cuz you wouldn’t stop puking earlier.”
“Ew.”
“Ew is right. You gave the ghost nurse on duty a hard time, ya know.” The rickety bed squeaks beneath you when he plops down near your feet and hands you the vial. “Gonna take this or not? Don’t tell me you need the prof to come to feed you again. Or would you prefer I do it this time?”
You ignore his condescending tone and pluck it from his fingers, uncapping it and wincing at the sharp metallic scent. You pinch your nose and down it with a shudder. “Ugh, yuck! How much more of this am I gonna have to drink?”
“Only two more bottles.” Leona fishes a pair of pills out of his pocket. “Take these, too. S’for the fever and headache. You can chew ’em up.”
You follow his instructions and instantly regret it. You kick him in the hip as he snickers at your plight. “Get me water right now, Leona.”
“Can’t believe you really fell for that. I really hope you’re smarter when you’re not sick.” He leans over and hands you a bottle you hadn’t realised he was holding and watches you chug its contents. “If you’re strong enough to kick that hard, you’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
You gently toss the now empty bottle at his head, slightly disappointed that he catches it before it can whack him. “Have you really been here since this morning?”
“It’s not like I had anything better to do.”
“What about classes? You missed them for someone you don’t even know that well?”
“I’d have missed them for no reason. Don’t start feelin’ too special.” Right. Of course. “I already know all that stuff anyway.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Made Ruggie bring me dinner.” Of course he did. “There’s some for you too, if you want it.”
“I’ll probably bring it back up,” you respond, frowning slightly, “I’m sorry for all this trouble.”
“You’re not welcome, brat. I thought this would be a good place to nap. Had no idea you could be such a handful.” His voice holds no true bite, but his words still make you feel bad. Leona leans back onto his palms, staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll admit that it was a little entertaining, though. You’re always so quiet; never thought I’d hear you say that kind of stuff.”
You scrunch your face in confusion. “What kind of stuff?”
He pauses for a few moments, staring at you as though he is contemplating his next move. You can almost see the gears turning behind his eyes. He eventually lets out a scoff. “Maybe it’s best I don’t tell you. Save you the embarrassment.” The man before you apparently finds some sort of amusement in watching you rack your brain. “You’re lucky I’m here and not someone like that scheming cephalo-punk. He’d have recorded it all and blackmailed you. Maybe I shoulda done that.”
“Leona.” You ignore your headache and scoot forward. “Tell me what I said.”
He suddenly stands and places a hand on your shoulder, coaxing you back into a lying position. “Don’t get so worked up. If you’re good, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He sighs. He’s been doing that all day. Because of you. “You’re almost like a kid. Quit bein’ such a headache and go back to sleep.”
You find it in you to bite out one more complaint. “I feel disgusting, Leona.”
“You smell disgusting too.” Before you can snap back, he grabs a black drawstring bag from the bedside cabinet and deposits it on your lap. He nods to the corner. “Bathroom’s over there.”
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
The light in the infirmary bathroom is blinding. As you sit on the toilet to relieve yourself, you squint at the contents of the bag: a new toothbrush, an unopened tube of toothpaste in the brand that Sam stocks, a pack of baby wipes, a few gold coloured hair ties, and some clothes that seem way too big for you.
You busy yourself with scrubbing the foul taste off your tongue, peeling off your sweaty uniform, and using the wipes to clean your burning flesh the best you can. The clothes Leona prepared are too large. The sweatpants are too long and the wide collar of the black shirt threatens to slide off your shoulders. You don’t have nearly enough energy to cast the resizing spell you learned last year, and you doubt Leona would do it for you just because you asked. The material is so soft against your flesh, though, that you have no intentions of complaining.
You suppose you can’t complain even if you wanted to. By the time you leave the bathroom, Leona is passed out on one of the beds in the furthest corner of the infirmary.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
The next time you awake, it is to the sound of Crewel’s voice. The candles are blown out, but you still manage to see his silhouette leaning in the doorway.
“You may return to Savanaclaw if you please.”
“I know.” There is a pause before Leona speaks again. “She doesn’t remember.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” the professor responds.
“She’ll want to know.”
“Shouldn’t you of all people know what curiosity does to cats? Enough of this. She’s stirring.”
Had you more energy, you’d have started asking questions. Right now, though, it feels difficult to even move, much less make sense of everything they’re saying.
“Medicine time, pup. I must urge you to be good this time.” You barely manage an incoherent grumble before you groggily roll onto your side and haul the thin sheet above your head.
“It’s the middle of the night,” says Crewel, impatience lining his voice. “You are not the only one who wishes to sleep. I will not hesitate to use magic to restrain you again.”
“Go away,” you grumble sleepily, “that shit’s nasty.”
Suddenly, you feel the bed rock and the linens are yanked off your body. It takes you a moment to realise that you’re on your back once more. Before you can punch or kick at your assailant, a heavy weight settles on top of you. Leona glares down at you. “You’re really startin’ to drive me up a wall.” You feebly slap at his shoulders, but he pays you no mind. One of his hands grabs your jaw and squeezes. “Open your mouth. Now.”
A few more seconds of this is all you can manage before you yelp at the pain. He takes the opportunity to shove two fingers into your mouth, pressing your tongue down and making you gag. Crewel takes the opportunity to pour the potion straight down your throat. You nearly choke. Leona’s fingers remain in your mouth even after you’ve managed to swallow, and you don’t hesitate to bite down on them. He yanks his hand back with a pained curse and finally climbs off of you. You wipe the corners of your mouth, cleaning any of the potion that escaped.
Crewel clears his throat with a grimace. “How untrained you both are,” he mutters. He briefly runs the back of his hand across your forehead. “That’s much better than last time. Keep resting. You too, Leona.” He spares a glance at the beastman. “And try not to rough-house her too much.”
“Tell her not to bite me again!” But Crewel’s back is already turned to the two of you. You begin to apologise, but Leona’s snarky laugh cuts you off. “Guess I can’t call you a herbivore anymore, huh?
You don’t respond. You’re still spiralling from the feeling of his weight crushing you, of his knees digging into your sides, of his fingers stuffing themselves into your mouth…
Leona Kingscholar was just on top of you, pinning you to a flimsy infirmary bed. You roll back onto your side, giving him your back as you try to slow your racing heart.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
You wake up in your room, confused and thirsty.
It takes you a few moments to make sense of your surroundings and realise that Leona must have brought you here while you were still asleep. The clock on the wall tells you it’s midday. Diligent as you may be, you recognise that there’s no point in rushing to classes this late. Not when you still feel this exhausted.
On the bedside table sit two bottles of water. You waste no time with them.
Halfway through your second bottle, you pause to examine the other items. The last dose of that awful concoction, a bottle of painkillers, a paper bag that smells really good, the drawstring bag from last night, a thermometer, and a... note?
You grab the piece of paper, staring at the signature for a few seconds before you actually begin reading:
“If you really can’t figure out a potion, just tell me next time. Drink the last of the healing potion and take a damn shower.
- L”
You are only slightly surprised at the elegance of his penmanship. He’s a prince, after all. What you don’t understand is why he bothered to leave a note at all.
Truth be told, you don’t understand why he’s done anything so far. Before yesterday, Leona only ever asked you for help skipping lessons (requests to which you never agreed) or told you where to sit so he could nap in behind you. He almost never helps anyone, and now he’s taking care of you all of a sudden? You of all people? You didn’t even think he knew your name.
For a moment, a part of you wonders if he somehow caught you watching him from under the bleachers at his spelldrive practice last week. Or from the back of the hall during Crowley’s last impromptu speech. Or from across the cafeteria everyday at lunch. Or…
A wave of panic washes over you. What if he knows you’ve been eyeing him and decided to play a nasty prank on you.
No. You push the thought away. Leona wouldn’t do something like that. He’d never waste his energy on silly pranks, and most certainly not on someone like you.
So then why? What is he getting out of this?
You use the thermometer even though you already know your fever is gone.
You down the silver potion and chase it with the remainder of your water.
You don’t need the painkillers.
The paper bag must be the food Ruggie brought you last night. You don’t realise just how hungry you ate until you unwrap your favourite sandwich. He probably just picked something randomly and you got lucky.
While you eat, you peep into the drawstring bag to find your dirty school uniform folded just the way you left it, along with the empty vials that once held Crewel’s concoction. You should wash. Wash your uniform so it will dry by this evening. Wash the bottles so you can return them to Crewel tomorrow. Wash the clothes you slept in and return them to Leo—
Hold on. You glare back down at Leona’s note. Did he just call you stinky?!
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
The evening breeze at Savanaclaw caresses your skin. The air is a bit warm, but not sticky. You clutch the black drawstring bag against your chest, the clothes Leona lent you neatly folded inside.
The student guarding the dorm entrance happens to be your lab partner from yesterday. And, well…
“Ribbit.”
You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Are you... how...” You look around as though you will find the words you’re looking for hiding under one of the decorative shrubs. “Did my explosion do that to you?”
“Ribbit! Ribbit, ribbit!” The boy shakes his head back and forth before launching into a series of wild gestures and frantic croaks. He finally finishes and looks at you with a pleading look in his eye.
“I, uh... didn’t catch any of that.” You wince at his pained ribbit. “I think you should go see Professor Crewel.”
Your lab mate sighs and tries to respond, but you quickly cut in before he can begin serenading you once more. “Look, I’m here to see Leona. Can you show me where to go?”
With a final, slightly confused croak, he offers a small nod and gestures for you to follow him.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
Leona is sprawled out on his stomach, tail flicking lazily from side to side. His ears twitch when you take a step into his room. “Finally took a bath, huh?” He yawns deeply, not even bothering to open his eyes. “You reeked of chemicals before.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“How do you people live with such a pathetic sense of smell? Knew it was you from halfway down the corridor.” He finally rolls onto his back and opens his eyes, the scar on his eye stretching as he raises an eyebrow at you. “Most prey consider it unwise to waltz straight into the lion’s den. You servin’ yourself up for dinner or something?”
“You don’t look very excited to eat me,” you argue, extending your arms to offer him the bag. “I’ve come to return the clothes you lent me.”
He stares at you with a befuddled expression. “You came all the way here for that? Surprised you didn’t just keep ’em.”
“Why would I? They are yours, aren’t they?”
“You prayin’ for a yes?” he asks with a sly grin that makes you look down at your feet. Did it suddenly get really hot in the dorm, or is the thought of wearing Leona’s clothes making your entire body feel warmer? “They are mine. I’m just so generous, aren’t I? Toss ’em anywhere. Ruggie’ll deal with it later.”
“Ruggie handles your laundry, too?” You roll your eyes and make your way to the dressing table, happy to finally face away from him for a few moments. “I washed them already, so you can give the poor guy a rest.” You neatly place the bag in the corner of the desk before pulling out the chair, flipping it to face him, taking a seat.
“Why are you gettin’ comfy?”
“That eager to get rid of me?”
“Got no one else to badger?” Leona sits up with a groan.
You ignore the quip. “Your sentry is croaking,” you begin, thinking back to the distressed ribbits of your classmate. “Did I do that?”
“Do I look like I have time to pay attention to all my dorm members’ problems?” His hand reaches under his loose shirt to scratch at his tummy, revealing that the waistband of his pants is sitting dangerously low on his hips. “From what I hear, he did it to himself. He tried remaking the truth potion from scratch after we left, but he messed it up. He’ll be fine in another day or two.”
“Sounds like you were paying attention, then,” you mutter. The potion you were supposed to make yesterday would force the drinker to answer questions truthfully for a certain amount of time.
“Just be happy that’s not you.” You shudder at the thought.
You cross your arms, doing everything in your power to avoid looking at the tufts of hair peeking over Leona’s waistband. “You promised to tell me what kinds of weird things I said yesterday.”
“I said I’d tell you if you were good.” He raises his hand to show you a few purple spots below his knuckles. “You have not been good.”
You are stricken by a pang of guilt. You had no idea you’d bitten him that hard. Way to bag a prince, you fool. “I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” He scoffs. “Don’t make me laugh. Took me by surprise and pissed me right off, but a kitten nibble like this isn’t nearly enough to hurt a lion like me.”
“So I’ve graduated from herbivore to kitten?”
“That’s what you took from that?” His eyes all but roll out of his head. “Let me ask you something. Is this your first time almost blowing up the lab?”
“You’d know if you came to class more often,” you joke, earning yourself yet another eyeroll. “I’ve had a ton of mishaps before, but this is the first time this year. And so far, this has been the... loudest. Why?”
“Do the potions ever come out right?”
“Eventually, but with some pretty nasty side effects.” You think back to all of your fiascos from before Leona ended up in your year. You shrunk yourself to the size of a pen more than once. Last year, you turned Rook’s hair pink. Once, during your first year, you made ivy grow out of Crewel’s nose. You wince at the memory of that last one. “Crewel’s probably really sick of cleaning up all my messes.”
“That’s what happened yesterday.”
“Huh?”
Leona stands and walks over to a messy pile of books in the corner before crouching and flipping through a few of them. None of them are NRC required texts. In fact, most of them aren’t even in the common tongue.
“You made a truth potion, alright,” he continues. “A real strong one. Strong enough that breathin’ in the fumes was enough for it to work on you.” Having found the book he was searching for, he grabs it and pads over to you.
“The smoke and chemicals are what made you sick, but the potion itself worked. Thing is, instead of just making you answer questions truthfully, it made you start revealing all kinds of truths all on your own with zero restraint. It turned off your filter, made you say all the crazy shit that was in your head, and then wiped your memory of the whole thing. Ever thought of workin’ for STYX?”
He towers over you with the book tucked under his arm. He’s so close that you have to crane your neck to look him in the eyes, the only other option being to stare straight at his groin. You can smell him. “Leona, you’re too close.” You try to scoot back, but the chair simply thumps against the dresser behind you. “Let me get up.”
“I thought you made yourself at home there,” he retorts, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. He places a hand on one of the chair’s arms, leaning over you and almost caging you beneath him. “Now you wanna run? Are you scared I’m finally ready to swallow you whole?”
You manage to catch yourself and refrain from biting your lip. His face, his scent, his warmth. It’s all too close.
You take a breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart, then sneer up at him with all the faux disgust you can muster. “Scared? Of you? Never.” You place your palms against his hunched shoulders and shove him lightly. “Now move.”
The measly push itself does nothing to shake him, but he relents with a sigh, taking a step back and giving you enough room to stand and remove yourself from beneath him. He drops a knee into the now vacant seat and leans over the back of the chair. The book falls onto the dresser with a thud.
“Leona, I want to know what I said.”
“Why’s it matter? You can’t un-say it.”
“I know that, but...” But what if you accidentally told him something insanely embarrassing? Like how often you think of him, or—
Stop. Do you really want to know?
“You did a whole lot of snivellin’ for starters,” he begins, flipping to the back of the book and looking through the index. “Started cryin’ and groanin’ about how much everything hurt. ’Leona, my ribs are crushing me! Leona, there’s vomit in my nose! Leona, my head hurts!’ Wouldn’t quit pesterin’ me.”
He finds what he’s looking for in the index and flips to a page near the centre of the book. He pulls a hair tie off his wrist to use as a bookmark and slams it shut before turning to sit in the chair properly.
Leona Kingscholar likes to manspread.
“Then you started whinin’ about how much you miss your cat, and cryin’ cuz you thought that no one at home missed you.
“Then Crewel showed up and I nearly died of second-handembarrassment. ‘I’m sorry for always fucking up your potions! I promise I don’t mean to cause all this trouble. I want you to like me. I want my teachers to like me but everyone hates me because I’m not good at anything.’ “
The high pitched voice he used to mock you was really starting to itch your skin. “Surely I didn’t sound anything like that.”
“Why ask if you weren’t gonna believe me?”
“Your impression of my voice is way off! But go on… what else did I say.?”
“No clue,” he responds. “I had to leave the room while Crewel wiped more pink stuff off you because it was making me sneeze. I didn’t wanna hear anymore anyway. The second-hand embarrassment might have ended me.”
What do you even say to that?
You sit on the edge of his bed, but promptly stand again. These sheets probably cost more than your entire dorm. You shift your weight from side to side, trying to find the right words. “That is really embarrassing. I’m sorry you had to see that. Please... please don’t tell anyone.”
“Relax. I got better things to do than run lip about you.”
“Thank you, Leona,” you say softly. “Not just for that. Thanks for looking after me yesterday, even when I was bugging your nose. I still don’t get why you’d do something like that, but thank you.”
“Geez, you thank everyone this profusely for everything? Gonna start kissin’ my feet next?”
“Ew! No way.”
His eyes narrow at you. “What do you mean, ew? You sayin’ my feet are nasty?”
“Do you want me to kiss your feet? That’s gross! Don’t tell me you’re into that.”
“Hold up. Don’t get the wrong idea now, kitten, I’m just sayin’—”
“Leona!” Ruggie’s voice floats down the hall. “Leona, did you forget about your housewarden meeting?” He starts pounding on the door.
“I can hear you just fine, Ruggie. Quit yellin’. Gimme five minutes!”
The door flies open. “You say that every time I— oh?” Ruggie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t know you were here, (y/n). You’re looking way better than yesterday.”
“Hi, Ruggie,” you greet, giving him a tiny wave. “I’m guessing you brought me those things? Lazy bones over here would never.”
“Oi!” Leona’s interjection goes ignored.
“Yeah, that was me. You were out cold when I came by, though,” he laughs, waving you off when you try to thank him. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”
The question takes you by surprise. “Do I?”
“Yeah. Sounded like you were havin’ a wild dream. Something about Rook looking better with pink hair. Now that I’d love to see.”
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
You sit cross-legged on your bed with Leona’s book in your lap. He’d shoved it into your hands moments before kicking you out of his room so he could head to his meeting.
“What’s this for?” you’d asked him.
“Do I really gotta spell everything out for you in crayon? Take it and get out before I change my mind.”
Now, you stare at the tattered tome. It was an unfamiliar potionology textbook that definitely wasn’t on your school’s reference list. There are a few juvenile scribbles in the corner of the fly leaf: “FK” struck through by a few wobbly lines, followed by “LK”.
You slowly flip through the pages, taking note of blocks of text underlined with fluorescent yellow as well as shaky bullet points hastily scratched into the margins. You occasionally come across scratched-out lines of writing. Only by straining your eyes are you able to make out phrases like “stupid Kifaji” and “Falena is a dumb-dumb.”
You eventually reach the page marked by Leona’s hair tie. The chapter heading screams at you: “COMMON ERRORS WHEN BREWING ADVANCED POTIONS.”
You don’t spare it a second glance. Your eyes are fixed, rather, on the gold elastic between your fingers. It’s identical to the one currently on your wrist, the one you couldn’t bear to part with when you returned the remainder of Leona’s belongings. “He wouldn’t miss a single hair tie,” you’d told yourself.
This one is different. This one had been on his wrist, likely because he’d intended to use it. Or perhaps, he’d already used it.
You don’t think twice before bringing the band to your nose and inhaling deeply.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
You are the first student to arrive at the laboratory the next morning. “Good morning, Professor.”
“Good morning to you, my most troublesome puppy.” You wince at his tone. Crewel’s brows are pinched together as he glares at you from behind his desk. Maybe if you had a tail, you’d tuck it between your legs and run back through the door.
You approach the desk slowly, eying the way he casually spins his pointer in his hand. The relaxed, almost hypnotic motion is almost enough to put you at ease. Almost.
When you finally stand in front of him, only a few metres of desk space separating you, you gently place a pouch on the wooden surface. A soft clinking can be heard from within.
“I cleaned your vials for you,” you begin, voice trembling. “Thank you for making those healing potions, and for taking care of me. I’m truly sorry for all the trouble I caused last class, and for anything I might have said to offend you while I wasn’t aware of what I was doing. I accept any discipline you deem necessary, sir.”
To your surprise, his gaze softens. With a deep sigh, he places the pointer on top of your peace offering and slides them both aside. As he leans forward, elbows perched on the desk and chin resting on his interlocked fingers, you hear the door open behind you. Footsteps and sleepy voices begin filling the lab.
“Look at me, little one. Looking at one’s feet is not only an impolite habit, but also one that is bad for your posture.” You straighten up as he instructs.
“Failure is a necessary step to success,” he continues. “I do sometimes wish you would fail a little less… spectacularly, but I will never begrudge you for these mishaps. Not when your diligence is so evident. You will try again today and you will succeed. You will bounce back, just as you always do.” He stands and turns his back to you, busying himself with the beakers on the nearby shelf. “Now cease this moping and hand out the lab books.”
You hand out the lab books as instructed.You help set up the apparatus. You greet your Savanaclaw classmate who is, as Leona predicted, no longer ribbiting.
Professor Crewel is halfway through his instructions for today when a sluggish lion with a nasty bedhead strolls in, mouth wide open and teeth bared in the midst of a yawn.
“Twice in one week, Kingscholar.” Crewel glowers at Leona with his arms crossed. “I would praise you, if not for your tardiness.”
“Please, don’t pause your lesson for me, teacher.”
The professor pinches the bridge of his nose, watching as Leona all but drapes himself across the stool to your left. “Your disrespect knows no bounds. You ought to be collared and whipped some day.” Disgruntled though he may be, Crewel continues issuing his orders.
“Partner with me,” Leona murmurs from beside you. His groggy voice is deeper than you’re used to hearing it. You look up at him in confusion.
“You’re willingly working with me? Is the sun gonna rise in the west next?”
“Who said anything about working?” He shoots you that grin, that wicked sneer that lets a gleaming fang peek out at you. You roll your eyes and look back to Crewel, to the apparatus in front of you, to the piles of ingredients up front, to the lab book beneath your drumming fingers...
Anything to get your eyes off his mouth.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
Leona, indeed, had no intention of working.
You call over to the beastman who has been leaning against the counter, silently watching your every move. “I only have two hands, Leona!”
“That’s great news,” he responds. “Any more and I’d be worried.”
“Do you really not intend to help me?”
“My presence in this boring class is already a huge gift. You should be singin’ my praises.”
“Careful there,” you warn. “You’re so full of yourself, I fear you might burst any second. One explosion was enough for this week.”
“Is this how you thank the guy whose books you’re studying from? Listen, kitten, my involvement here won’t do you a lick of good on your final.” His tone carries a sense of finality. “Now quit pesterin’ me.”
You recall the tips in Leona’s textbook and try your best to keep a steady hand. You pour the powdered chrysanthemums into the cauldron with your left hand while trying to maintain a consistent stir with your right. The white substance makes your nose itch a bit, but your nearby partner is the one who sneezes. You resist the urge to pour faster.
You are so focused on your concoction that you don’t realise Leona is standing right beside you.
“This stuff stinks.” You jump, almost dropping the entire beaker into the cauldron. “Easy, scaredy cat. If you have to start over, it’ll take even longer for me to get lunch.”
“Don’t sneak up on me like that, then,” you hiss. “You can leave if you so badly want to. You’re not doing anything here anyway.”
“You hate my company or somethin’?” From the corner of your eye, you see him feign a pained expression. “And to think I was about to remind you that this is the part where you turn down the heat.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t stop stirring.”
You do as he says. Of course you do. Leona disappears from beside you, crouching to cast a minor spell on the fire beneath the cauldron. You think that you briefly feel something brushing against your ankle, but when you look down, there’s nothing there.
Perhaps you imagined it.
He stands a second later, this time right behind you so he can peer over your shoulder. You can feel the warmth oozing off of him and seeping into your skin, making your entire body tingle.
“You need to be able to do all this stuff yourself,” chides Leona. “There are no partners in the exams.”
“I know, I know,” you huff. “It’s hard to focus on everything at once.”
“That’s your problem. You shouldn’t need to focus. You shouldn’t even need to be awake to change the size of a flame. That should come as easy as breathin’.”
“Easy for you to say,” you huff. “You probably learned how to do that when you were ten.”
“Seven.” You recall the childish scribbles in his book.
“Not the point!”
“Quit yammerin’ and just add your magic.” Leona reaches around your body to pull your magical pen from your pocket and places it into your free hand. “Keep a steady stirring rhythm with one hand and cast with the other. Slowly. If you channel too much at once like last time, it’ll blow up again.”
You try to calm your breathing. Steady. Steady. Steady.
Slowly but surely, the potion begins taking on a pink colour, one that’s a lighter, more glittery shade of pink than the one you blew up.
“ ’N you made it seem so hard,” he grumbles, the feeling of his breath right against your ear making you shiver. “You only have one brain. Certain things need to be muscle memory so you can give your attention to the things that really matter.”
“I’m still sort of new to this whole magic thing, you know.”
“Is that the excuse you’re gonna keep throwin’ around for the rest of your life?” You look over your shoulder to glare at him, but he isn’t leveling you with the narrowed gaze you imagined he would. He isn’t even looking at you, but rather, at the fire near your feet. It goes out. “Done.”
“Are you now?” Crewel asks. How long has he been standing there?
You rip yourself from your partner, stepping away from the cauldron and watching as Leona transfers the steaming potion into a reagent flask before handing it to the professor for inspection. He takes a few steps back, until he is beside you.
Crewel holds the flask up to the light, gently swishing the pearlescent concoction around as he scrutinises its glimmer. He then waves some of the steam towards himself and takes a tentative sniff. He mumbles to himself for a few moments, and anxiety begins to sink its claws into you, but before it can do any real damage, your teacher turns back to you with a smile. “Well done. You’ve worked hard.”
“Thank you professor.” You accept the flask and stopper it, avoiding Crewel’s gaze for fear of him seeing the tears of relief welling in the corner of your eyes.
Leona yawns beside you. “So we’re done here, yeah?”
“It still requires testing,” the professor reminds him, slapping the pointer into his own palm. “I expect a full report by next week, so I suggest you begin.”
“Don’t worry, sir,” you reassure him. “We’ll use the rest of the class time to get started, right Leona? Leona?!”
The lion is already walking away, tail lazily swishing behind him. “My stomach’s growlin’. I’m heading out.”
“Disobedient cur! You may not leave until I have dismissed the class!”
But Leona’s already halfway through the door, holding two lab books instead of one.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
“Have you truly managed to tame le Roi des lions?”
You look up at Rook from your hunched over position by the lab sink. It is not rare for the two of you to be the last ones left in the potionology lab. You turn the faucet off. “What are you on about now, Rook?”
The blond looks at you with that smile. The one that declares, I know something you don’t. The one that is so very Rook. “He does not bare his fangs at you.”
“You talk about him like he’s some savage beast that’s finally being domesticated.”
“I’m just saying he seems rather docile as of late.”
“Docile? Please.” You scoff, handing him the last of the beakers so he can dry it and put it away. “Lazy more like it.”
“Au contraire! He was rather agile when he thought you were in danger the other day.” He closes the cupboard doors and turns to face you. “Why, with the way he swept you off your feet, I dare say he is rather taken with you.”
You laugh. Truly laugh. Leona Kingscholar, taken with you? “Sweet merciful Seven, Rook— you have the wrong idea.”
“Have I?”
“You have. I can assure you that His Royal Highness, Prince Leonaof Sunset Savannah, would never be taken with someone like me. It’s not like that.”
“And I can assure you that I am an expert in this field,” he argues. “It seems you are too busy selling yourself short to see what I have been seeing.”
You roll your eyes, heaving open the heavy lab door and gesturing for him to follow you out. “It really isn’t what you think it is.” It can’t possibly be. Not when he’s him, and not when you’re you.
“Well enlighten me then, little Trickster. Tell me what really happened.”
You sigh. What a pain. “It’s simple. I fucked up my potion the way I always do. He’s got a sensitive nose, so he left the room to get away from the smell, but then Crewel forced him to take me to the infirmary. He only carried me so he could get it over with as quickly as possible.”
“He stayed with you in the infirmary,” Rook says.
“Only because he wanted an excuse to skip his classes,” you defend. You pause in the middle of the corridor. “Wait. How do you know that?” You really shouldn’t be this surprised. It’s Rook.
“I was beside myself with worry for you,” he exclaims, dramatically closing his eyes and touching the back of his hand to his forehead. “As soon as I finished tidying the lab, I came to check on you, but Leona refused to let me in. He only unlocked the door when Professor Crewel arrived. He was being so protective, it made my heart flutter!”
You remember witnessing several instances of Vil scolding Rook for stalking Leona. “I somehow get the feeling that his refusal to let you in had less to do with me and more to do with you…”
Rook has an odd glimmer in his eye as he turns away from you. “Your suspicion isn’t entirely without reason, I’ll admit. Still, I can’t imagine that’s why he spent the night.”
He walks away, the echo of his retreating footsteps now your only companion in this vast, empty hallway.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
The bleachers protect you from the afternoon sun and the unusually high wind. Over the past few weeks, you’ve learned to love the damp, grassy smell of the shady spot underneath the stands. It’s comfortable, quiet, and provides you with enough cover to see without being seen.
Through the cracks between the stands, you can see Leona in the sky. It’s a more casual practice today; the boys are all wearing their PE uniforms instead of their spelldrive suits. Their leader flits back and forth, barking orders at the players and pointing out formations.
Mean as he may sound right now, everyone knows that Leona cares about his boys. If he didn’t, he never would have pestered Vargas to add an extra hour of training every week. He wouldn’t show up early to prepare the equipment on his own so they can spend as much time warming up as possible. He wouldn’t have arranged for extra water coolers to be installed near the spelldrive field.
You’ve never heard him say it, but he doesn’t need to: Leona indubitably loves his guys.
And they love him too.
Leona belongs up there with them, where the golden rays of the setting sun act as his spotlight, where wind howls his praises, where the clouds and birds part for him. Leona belongs up there, where he is loved. Where he is king.
And you belong down here.
You watch as he gestures for a water break, sinking to the ground with the others until he is no longer in your line of vision. You close your eyes and lean against one of the columns that support the seating structure.
The metal is cool against your head. You would take a nap if it weren’t for the magic jar of flames you held on your lap. It didn’t take long for you to figure out how to maintain the size of the flames without looking, but changing it still required your full attention.
Perhaps you could practice now. Keep your eyes closed and slowly increase the size. Slow and steady. Steady stream of magic. Steady, steady...
“I should try napping here some day.”
Your shock at the sudden voice rips a scream from your throat, but you don’t hear it over the sound of your jar exploding. Your eyes fly open, and you find yourself surrounded by a protective barrier. You are unscathed, but several shards of glass are stuck to the other side of the barrier.
Leona, who is crouched a mere few feet away from you, drops the shield and extinguishes the flames that have escaped the now shattered jar.
“Jumpy, kitten?” He grins at you. “Don’t let me interrupt your cat nap.”
“You did that on purpose!”
“What’s with the jar?”
“I was taking your oh-so-sagacious advice,” you huff. “I’m trying to manipulate flames without having to focus too hard.”
Leona laughs. He laughs at you. “And somehow, not only did you not hear me comin’, but this little distraction was enough to nearly burn down the school. You were focusin’ on it. Real hard, too.”
You cross your arms. “Shouldn’t you be in the sky right now?”
“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He watches you with an uninterested expression as you levitate the shards and float them into a nearby trash can. “ ’s pretty hard to focus when you’re starin’ at me from down here, though.”
“I was not staring at you,” you lie.
He tilts his head, a questioning brow raised. “Someone else then? One of my guys?”
“What? No way!”
“Then why’re you here?”
“I... um...” You hesitate. Why are you here? “So you’ve already forgotten, haven’t you? We need to test this potion and write up a lab report. I’m here to make you do it as soon as your practice ends so we can get it out of the way.” You know that with a voice so shaky, he won’t believe you.
“Is that so?” He finally stands up, forcing you to look up at him from your seat on the grass. His gaze is sharp enough to pierce your very soul. “Maybe I’d buy that if this was your first doin’ this.”
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck— “How did you—”
“Sometimes, I wish my nose was as dull as yours.” To your surprise, Leona extends his arm, offering you a hand up. You begrudgingly take it, gasping at the ease with which he suddenly hauls you to your feet.
“At first I thought it was that hunter pest,” he continues, “but the scent was different. Came to check one day during a water break and found you dozing off.”
“So all this time, you... why didn’t you say anything?”
“Cuz I didn’t care. You can’t do any harm if you’re snoozin’, so why waste my time trying to get rid of you?” Leona looks up at the handful of spelldrive players heading back up into the air. “Turn around.”
“What? Why?” You scrunch your face in confusion as though you’re not already almost backing him. You nearly jump right out of your skin and spin back around when you feel his hands in your hair. “What are you doing?!”
“Can you chill?” He sounds as though he’s holding something between his teeth. “I’m just makin’ sure the wind doesn’t blow your hair in your eyes while you’re up there.” He is surprisingly gentle with you, tenderly swooping any stubborn strands into a hair tie.
“Up there? The hell are you on about?! I don’t recall volunteering for a workout.”
“Ruggie’s absent today so there’s an odd number of players. I need it to be even for the next set of drills.” He tightens the elastic ever so slightly. “You’re lurking around here anyway, so you might as well be good for something. Too tight?”
“No...” You reach up and poke at the hair tie, the very one that was in Leona’s mouth a few seconds ago. You spin back around to glare at him. “No as in it’s not too tight and no as in I’m helping with your stupid drills.”
“You’ve played spelldrive during our PE classes,” he huffs.
“That doesn’t mean I’m good at it!” You swat at him in protest as he wraps his fingers firmly around your forearm and begins tugging you out of the shade. “Really, Leona, I’m a shit flyer.”
“Do you really think I’d take a ‘shit flyer’ into my sky to slow me down?” You shudder as you feel a chill run through you. You thought it might be from the way Leona narrowed his eyes at you, but then you look down to find yourself in your PE uniform.
You don’t have time to start grilling the lion before he yells out to his team. “Oi! Someone get this cub a broom!” His gaze returns to you where you are practically stuck to his side with how close he’s tugged you.
You definitely didn’t just try to discreetly sniff him. Certainly not.
“Pair up with Epel,” he instructs. “And you better not let me catch you slackin’ off and slowin’ him down.”
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
The sun has already begun setting when Epel takes a swig from his water bottle before tossing it to you. “I thought you said you couldn’t fly, (y/n).”
“I said I wasn’t good at flying.” You pull your legs up onto your broom, sitting cross-legged. The movement makes the wooden length dip slightly lower. Your magic pours into it, keeping you afloat with a slight bounce as you unscrew the cap of Epel's bottle, not wanting to drink directly from the spout.
He tilts his head. “Well, none of the bad flyers I know can fly like you.” You’ve never seen him grin like this. He’s so different now that he’s in his element. “Can you imagine Azul sitting on his broom so casually?”
“Shall I tell him you think he’s a bad flyer?”
“No!”
You can’t help but snicker at his panicked expression. “Relax, I’m just kidding.” You thank him for the water as you throw his bottle back to him.
“Anyway, your flying is fine. You’re not nearly as fast as any of us—”
“Hey!”
“—B-but your technique isn’t too shabby!” He gives you a pensive look. “Actually, your magic seems a lot more stable than what Rook let on.”
Your magic? Stable? Does this guy even hear himself? “Does Rook talk about me a lot or something?”
“Only when you blow stuff up,” he snorts. “Which seems to be often. Looks like you’ve recovered from the last time, though. Pretty quickly too… He said you would.”
“Did he now?”
“Yeah. That’s why I was scared to partner with you at first. You blew up the lab, slept for only two days, and now you’re up here on a broom looking for even more trouble. I thought you’d lose control and blow me up next! I should have trusted Leona’s judgement. Sorry for underestimating you.”
You follow him in steering the handle of your broom downward to begin your slow descent. You can’t help but tease him a little. “Do you speak to all your seniors so bluntly or is it just me?”
“Only the ones that aren’t as prickly as Vil.”
Leona’s rough voice cuts off your retort. “Hurry up and get down here! And uncross your legs or you’ll start cramping.”
“Geez…” You hop off the broom and let it clatter to the earth. “You’re even bossier out here.”
“Says the one huntin’ me down to write a damn lab report,” he grumbles.
“Quiet, you,” you hiss, turning your back to him and facing Epel, who raises his brows at your exchange.
“You two have Alchemy together?”
“Potionology,” you correct. You can’t help but place a hand on the boy’s head of windswept lavender hair. “And I gotta make lazy bones do his homework. See ya around.”
“Who're you callin’ lazy?” huffs Leona as you begin walking away from the field. “I all but dragged you into the sky.”
“Hah! I’m surprised someone like you ended up in such an active sport.” You sigh. “Now I’m stinky and gross, just like you.”
“Got any more adjectives you wanna throw at me?”
“Got a whole bunch,” you declare. Forceful but thoughtful, lazy but intelligent, mean but so hilariously witty, moody but tenacious, delectably alluring… “We'd be here all night if I start listing them, though, so I’ll spare you.”
“I rejoice at your merciful benevolence,” he mocks.
“I’m going back to my dorm to shower.” You begin sliding your bag off your shoulder. “Here. Take the potion to Savanaclaw.”
“Waste of time. Just shower at Savanaclaw.”
You look at him as though he's grown a second head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not? You’re the one who's in a hurry to do the report. Housewarden bathrooms have pretty good hot water too, ya know.”
Showering in Leona Kingscholar’s bathroom…
His face maintains its indifferent expression, but the glint in his eye tells you: he knows he just caught his prey.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
Leona was right. The water is really hot. Maybe you’d enjoy it more if you weren’t so focused on preventing your pounding heart from bursting out of your ribcage.
You are in Leona’s shower. Leona Kingscholar’s shower. You’re in his shower, washing your hair with his shampoo, scrubbing your flesh with his body wash… It almost feels like he's claiming you.
In a sense he already has. Loathe you are to admit it, your heart has already belonged to Leona for a long time. You close your eyes and tilt your face upwards, as though you hope the hot water against your face will melt away these ludicrous feelings.
That’s exactly what they are. Ludicrous. You’ve long accepted the fact that Leona would never settle for someone like you. For all you know, he might already be betrothed to a person of his family’s choosing. Perhaps a master potionologist, or maybe a spelldrive player with worlds of potential.
Even if he wasn’t a prince, he would still be deserving of someone better than you. Someone stronger. Smarter. Funnier. Better.
There is simply no space for you in his sky.
The sooner you get rid of this foolish crush, the better.
Right now, though, you indulge your fantasies by thumbing at his towel, which is hanging beside the clean one he gave you. Side by side like that, they make this bathroom seem like a shared domestic space for the two of you. The thought alone makes your heart prance.
How absurd.
You hurriedly dry off before changing into the clothes he lent you. It’s the same set as last time. Your face scrunches in concentration as you magically resize the pants, but you leave the shirt as it is. It feels more like him this way. Like you are being held by him. Like you belong to him.
You do. Every single part of you belongs to him.
The three golden hair ties on the bathroom counter glimmer at you mockingly, as though to say, “This is the only part of him that will ever belong to you.”
You roughly tug all three back onto your wrist, branding yourself with Leona. You can’t stay here wallowing forever. He was nice enough to let you clean up first, but you know his patience is finite.
Leona is seated in an armchair by the window. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed. His legs are, as usual, spread wide open. He is so serene that you might have thought he was asleep were it not for the jar in his hands. He toys mindlessly with it, rolling it between his large palms.
“Finally done?” He cracks open his eyes. “Surprised you didn’t scald your skin off..”
“Do you always sit with one knee in the Shaftlands and the other in the Queendom of Roses?”
He snorts before standing and sauntering over to you. “Not shrinking the shirt?”
“It’s comfy loose.” He only hums in response. “By the way… you changed my clothes pretty easily earlier. Why didn’t you do that the other night?”
“Crewel told me not to. Somethin’ about too much magic workin’ on your body at once not being good for you. Plus…” A fang peeks out at you as he steps closer to you. “With the state you were in, I didn’t know how you’d react if you woke up in some guy’s clothes. Didn’t want you gettin’ the wrong idea.”
You can’t stop your face from heating up. You try your best to change the topic. “Where are the lab books? I’ll head them up while you shower.”
“You’ll do more than that,” he states, handing you the jar. “Work on your flames while you do it.”
“I…” You stare at the jar in your hands as though you’re afraid it might bite you. “I’m not sure I can do that yet.”
“Pretend you’re flying.”
“Huh?”
Leona crosses arms with a sigh. “You are not dense, and your magic is not unstable. You just think too damn much.
“I watched you today. You can channel into a broom just fine, even when you’re having conversations or drinkin’ water. So just channel into the fire while you write. It’s the same thing.”
“It’s not the same thing, Leona—”
“It is,” he interrupts. “Quit overthinkin’ it. If you want a bigger flame, imagine you’re climbin’ the sky. Want it smaller? Descend. Want it out? Land your broom. It’s the same shit. It’s not difficult, you just need to trust yourself.”
“Easy for you to say,” you mutter.
“Most things are. Now get to work.”
With that, he disappears into his bathroom, leaving you alone in his room. You roll the jar around in your hands just as you had seen him do. You take a deep breath.
Too much magic will shatter the glass. Too little will snuff the flame.
Leona wasn’t wrong. Having your broom in your mind’s eye makes controlling the flame a lot easier. You take a few moments to establish a rhythm of bigger, then smaller, then bigger again.
Up and down and up and down. Once you got used to it, you closed your eyes. Don’t think too hard, just fly.
You eventually settle into the chair Leona just vacated. You place the lab books on your lap and the jar on the arm of the chair. Two tasks at once. You’ve headed up so many lab books that it no longer requires concentration. You try to remind yourself that writing while wielding is just like chatting while flying.
You’re almost done with the books when a “Leona, I’m back!” sounds from down the hall. Before you can rise from your seat, Ruggie enters without knocking, carrying a large paper bag. You hadn’t realised how hungry you were until you smelled the savoury aroma wafting into the room. He stops in his tracks. “Ah! You’re here.”
“Hey,” you greet. “Leona’s still in the shower.”
He makes his way over to the dresser with a hum. “I’ll just leave his dinner over here then.” He mutters something about the messy dresser and a lost uniform button under his breath. He busies himself with hastily tidying up the area. It’s quiet for a while before briefly pauses his work to peer into the bag, eyebrows slightly raised. “Ya know, I thought it was weird that the extra sandwich he ordered had vegetables in it. Guess that’s for you.”
“For me?” And Leona was the one to order it for you?
“Why do you sound so surprised? You’re filling the guy’s lab book. The least he can do is feed you.” He spares you a quick glance over his shoulder. “He’s not a stingy employer, ya know. I eat on his dime everyday.”
Your gaze narrows. “He’s not my employer.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Employees don’t make a habit outta wearin’ their bosses’ clothes. What are you, then?” He snickers at the expression on your heating face as you search for another topic.
“I hope you didn’t miss practice just to run errands for him.” You join him at the dresser, watching as he sews a button back onto Leona’s jacket. You hold the jar of flames a little above his hands so he can see his project a little better. “I’d be really pissed at him if you did, even if he fed you.”
“Relax,” he laughs. “Jack and I took the afternoon off to handle something down at the port. He didn’t go to his club’s practice either. Hey…” he pauses to examine the jar in your hand for a moment. “Thanks for the light, but… why do you have that?”
“Leona’s helping me with my magic. I have to keep resizing this flame until I develop a magical muscle memory.”
“Since when does he go out of his way to play tutor?”
You huff. “No clue. He’s being really prickly about it too. I don’t know how you deal with someone so bossy.”
“Hah!” He finishes his work on the button and bites through the thread. “That’s Leona. Guess he’s demanding even when he’s tryna be nice to his girlfriend.”
You barely manage to prevent your jar from exploding again. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you hiss. “I’m not his girlfriend.”
“Oh?”
“You better not let anyone hear you say that. What would people think?”
“What would people think?”
They'd think the blot made him lose his fucking mind. You can’t say that out loud.
Ruggie’s dramatic sigh fills the silence that stretches between you. “Listen, I don’t really care what your relationship is, as long as you come ‘round more often. You don’t seem too bad. Maybe you’ll be a good influence on his lazy ass.”
The bathroom door creaks open before you can respond. Leona glares daggers at the two of you. You wonder how much of that he heard. You would probably be a little scared if you weren’t busy ogling him. He’s shirtless.
“You’re yippin’ a lot today, Ruggie,” he grumbles, using a towel to soak up the water in his hair.
“And maybe you oughta listen for once.” Ruggie puts his hands on his hips. “I’m glad the prefect is getting you to actually do your homework, but you better pull your weight. If you make her do everything, she’ll get sick of you real fast.” With that, he heads towards the door. “Your food’s here, so I’m heading to bed,” he calls over his shoulder. “Don’t stay up all night and end up skipping tomorrow.”
The door clicks softly and you are suddenly alone with Leona.
“He cares about you.”
“He cares about staying fed,” he responds as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“No,” you argue. “He cares about you. And you care about him too.”
“I don’t. Now stop saying weird shit. We have to get this over with so you can get out of my damn hair.”
“I need to snuff this before we start,” you say, nodding to the magic jar of flames.
“Why?”
“Because if I lose control of it when I drink that gross stuff, I’ll end up incinerating your room and your beloved bed.” By the time your tiny fire is out, he’s tugged on a beige long-sleeved shirt, similar in style to the one you’re wearing.
His tail takes up a lazy motion as he moves around his room. He hangs the damp towel on a hook, then grabs the bag of food and all but flings himself onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh. “Get the potion and c’mere.”
You waste no time in following his instructions. You want to get this over with as quickly as possible. You’ve already inserted yourself into so much of his space and taken up so much of his time. It’s best not to push your luck. You stand at the foot of his bed with his textbook and your two lab books stacked, the glimmering potion resting on top of them.
He sits cross-legged and pulls two sandwiches out of the bag, looking at you expectantly. You stare back at him.
“Why’re you just standin’ around? Get down here.”
“On the bed?” You look at him like he’s insane.
“Got a problem with my bed?”
“No! I just… Are you sure it’s alright?”
“Don’t make me scruff you and bring you here myself, kitten.”
“Alright, alright!” You sit on the edge of the bed, hesitantly at first. He simply keeps eying you, clearly dissatisfied, until you eventually scoot closer, crossing your legs to mirror him. Your two pairs of knees are almost touching.
He looks down at the pile on your lap. “Why’d you bring that back here?” he asks, tapping the spine of his textbook with his index finger.
“To return it?” You give him an incredulous look. “It’s yours.”
“I mastered everything in there already. I got no use for it.”
“Don’t you want to keep it in your family?”
He scoffs as though it’s the most ludicrous thing he’s ever heard. “You really take me for some kinda sentimental family man? Just keep it.” He hands you one of the sandwiches.
“How did you know I like this one?” you query.
“Since you’re so damn good at interrogations, you’ll come up with the questions for the testin’.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Just leanin’ into your strengths,” he says, grinning at you with a mouth full of Sam’s Deluxe Meat sandwich.
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
Actually drinking the potion is always the most frightening step.
The first step didn’t take long. You just had to come up with a set of questions with answers that can easily be proven. When’s your birthday? Do you have siblings? Is the headmage’s first name Dire? What time is it right now? Are you currently a student at Night Raven College? Can you name all the housewardens? So on and so forth…
The next step was equally simple: lie to each other with a combination of one-worded responses and longer explanations. You choose a random date for your fake birthday. Leona tells you he is the third of four siblings. You say the headmage’s name is Leona. (This earns you a scoff and an eyeroll.) He calls a random time without looking at the clock. You claim to be studying at Noble Bell.
Now though…
“Maybe we should continue tomorrow, Leona.”
“Just drink the potion, scaredy cat.”
You stare at the pink liquid. It shimmers as though it’s staring right back at you. You really, really, do not want to drink it.
It will most definitely taste awful, and it will probably stew your brain for a second, but that’s not what frightens you. What if it fails? Or worse, what if it works too well, like the last one. What if it forces you to say something you’ll regret?
Leona plucks the flask out of your hand, tearing you from your thoughts. “You bugged me to do this and now you’re the one hesitating? You never know what you really want, huh?” He throws his head back and downs half of the potion.
Exactly half. Is there anything this guy isn’t good at?
He grimaces as though he just sucked on a lemon. His nose scrunches and he shakes his head, a motion that is so cat-like that you half-expect him to meow. He hands you the reminder of it. “Your turn.”
Your anxiety spikes. “Surely only one of us has to test it, right? Plus, it’d be awful if something were to go wrong and we both ended up—”
“Do I need to force-feed you again?”
“No!”
You do your best to steel your nerves, pinch your nose and toss the concoction back, immediately grateful that half of your sandwich is still there for you. It doesn’t do enough to kill the taste.
For a moment, you and Leona just sit there.
Then it crashes into you.
You force your gaze down to the now empty bottle; looking anywhere else makes your head spin.
Neither of you says anything, but the room is suddenly so loud. The crickets outside suddenly sound like they’re inside your ears. The lights seem to be buzzing. You can hear Leona breathing. You can smell him too.
Your pulse pounds at the base of your throat, and little shocks of electricity dance through your veins, spreading to every inch of your body and making you buzz.
You can hear and smell and feel so much, too much. Your cheeks feel wet. Are you… crying? You swipe at your face but your palm comes back dry.
Wait. Did it even connect? You didn’t feel it. Try again.
A breeze passes through the room and pulls you back to reality, back to Leona’s bed.
You take a few shaky breaths before you look up at Leona. His corners of his lips are pulled downwards, and his ears…
Do his ears always twitch like that?
“Come back to me.”
“Huh?” You lock eyes with him, swiping at your cheek again. Still dry. You just imagined it.
“Are you back?” Leona’s grip tightens around your knee and shakes it gently. When did he start touching you? “You spaced out.”
His tail lashes back and forth wildly behind him as though it has a mind of its own. Is he… worried?
“I’m okay now.” Your throat feels dry and raw. “I’m just a little sensitive to these things.”
“Does that always happen?”
“Not always. Usually only the ones that mess with your brain, and it only lasts a few seconds. Do you have water?”
Leona wordlessly stretches over to his nightstand, yanking the drawer open to reveal several bottles of water. He grabs two before letting his magic flow from his fingers to cool them. The two of you sip as you silently watch his tail flick back and forth hypnotically. Your curiosity gets the best of you.
“Is the potion messing with your ears and tail?”
“Yeah.” He traps his tail under his thigh, using his weight to keep it in check. “Bugs all the beastmen. You feelin’ good enough to start?”
“Yeah.” You drain the remainder of your water and put the bottle on the floor, along with the empty flask. “Shoot.”
“When’s your birthday?” he begins.
The truth flies out of your mouth before you can even consider lying. “Guess it works. Do you have any siblings?”
“Yes.” He pauses for a few moments. “ ‘s not forcin’ me to elaborate. Is the headmage’s first name Dire?”
You try to say “His first name is not Ashton,” which is technically the truth, but the potion is not satisfied with this. “It is.” You hum in contemplation and jotting down a quick note.
“I want to try something, Leona. Don’t look at the clock. What time is it right now?”
“I don’t know. Can’t tell the truth if I don’t know it.”
“Can you estimate?”
“I could if I wanted to.” Then nothing.
“Estimate.”
“No.”
“Don’t estimate.”
“Eight thirty.”
You glance at the clock on the wall behind Leona. Eight forty-seven. “Not bad, you stubborn ass.” You quickly jot down a few notes into your lab book. “It doesn’t force you to follow any orders and you don’t have to explain anything as long as you answer the question that was asked. Can I try something else? You're allowed to say no.”
He offers you a look of intrigue. “You can.”
“Tell me what you're thinking about.”
Leona doesn’t respond.
“Can you tell me what’s on your mind?”
“I can. But I won’t.” Of course.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Your ends are dry and your roots are a little puffy. You should use oil.”
“Rude.”
“You’re the one who forced me to say it!”
“And I’m glad I did,” you huff. “The potion’s working exactly as intended. Let’s hurry up and get this over with.”
The rest of the questions pass without issue, and before you know it, you're lying on your tummies side by side, quietly filling the pages of your lab books.
You suddenly remember something. “Shit. We forgot to start a timer so we can see how long the effects last.”
“We didn’t. I started it just before you started trippin’ balls.” He shows you the screen of his phone. Sure enough, a timer is running: 00:37:15.
“Do you think Idia’s family makes a tonne of these potions?”
“I don’t know what that radish sprout and his freaky family get up to. Don’t wanna know either.”
You laugh a little and glance over at him. You are about to playfully scold him for not having written much when you notice that his pupils are blown wide, locked onto the magestone of your pen. You give it a few experimental flicks. Sure enough, his eyes follow every movement and his tail thrashes excitedly behind him. You can’t help but tease him. “Aww, who’s a good kitty?”
Leona jolts, seemingly only now realising what he has been doing. “Shut up,” he growls, wrapping his tail around his leg to keep it still.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell— ow!” You drop your pen. Three of Leona’s fingers press down on your wrist to soothe the spot he just stung by pulling on the hair tie (his hair tie). “The fuck was that for?”
“I couldn’t help it.” His ears flatten against his head. “That must have hurt. I forgot how strong these are. Sorry.”
“If not for the circumstances, I might not have believed that.”
He continues rubbing small circles on your wrist, and you don’t pull away. “You like collecting these as bracelets or somethin’?”
A yes escapes your lips despite your attempt to stop it. “They’re really pretty,” you add, telling some of the truth before he can ask why and force all of it out of you. “Where did you get them?”
“They’re made in Sunset Savannah. We get the latex from a special kind of tree that doesn’t grow in this part of Twisted Wonderland. It’s that high quality stuff, so it stretches far without breakin’ or losin’ its shape. ‘S why it snaps back so hard.”
“Must be really expensive,” you note. “Do you want them back?”
“No.” You flinch when his voice suddenly comes at you a little rougher than usual. “I've got more than I can count. What’s with you and tryin’ to return all my gifts? Do you do this to everyone?”
Gifts? “Yes… Are you angry?”
“I’m not.” His voice softens just a tad. “I just don’t get you. You just said that you like them, so why’re you givin’ em back?”
“Because I don’t deserve them.”
For a moment, he just stares at you with an expression that you can’t decipher. His brow creases as he frowns, but this isn’t his usual scowl. “You really believe that’s true.” It’s not a question.
“Maybe we should stop here for tonight, Leona.” You sit upright and try to pull away from him, but his grip on your wrist tightens. “Let go.”
“Don’t leave.”
“Let go, Leona.”
“Stay,” he insists. “Let’s talk.”
“Why?”
“Cuz I like it when you’re here.”
His words bounce around in your head a few times before you manage to make sense of them. When you finally do, you still can’t think of a response. He winces under your blank stare as though the realisation of what he just said physically pains him.
When you break the silence, it is with a sense of finality, with an absolute certitude. “You don’t mean that.”
“How can you say that when you know I can’t lie?” he argues.
“Because someone like you isn’t supposed to like anything about someone like me.” Your final attempt at yanking yourself from his grip is successful. You crawl backwards to the other end of his bed, burning under his glower.
You seem to have offended him.
“Why? Cuz I’m a prince?”
“Because you’re you!” you blurt out in exasperation. “You’re you and I’m me. You’re not even supposed to acknowledge someone like me, much less enjoy my company.”
“Please, do go on,” he bites out. “Tell me all about what I'm supposedto do. I really don’t get you, (y/n).”
“And I don’t get you. Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?”
“The same reason you’ve been following me around school like a cub without a pride, all year long, thinkin’ I don’t know you’re there.”
Yeah right. “I am not a prideless cub. And what do you mean, ‘the same reason?’ You don’t even know why I did that. For all you know, Rook could have taken me under his wing.”
He doesn’t smirk at your joke. His ears swivel, but his serious gaze is fixed on you. “I know the truth.”
That’s not true. That can’t be true. Perhaps he believes it’s true, but it isn’t. Even if he really knew, he wouldn’t be able to lie and say that he likes you too. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. “You don’t,” you insist, more to yourself than to him.
“You told me in the infirmary.”
Mortification swallows you whole. “But you said—”
“I lied.”
You blank. For a moment, there’s nothing.
Then there’s too much. Your eyes sting and your vision blurs. He knows.
He knows you have a crush on him. He knows and he just pretends that he doesn’t. He knows and he just lets you keep pretending that you don’t love him. He was probably laughing at you the whole time. He was playing with you.
He was amusing himself at your expense.
“Y/n.” He reaches for you, but flinches when you pull away. “You’re… crying?”
“I suppose I am.” You try to keep your voice steady, try to appear strong. You fail miserably, though, mentally cursing the burning tears that keep escaping no matter how hard you try to imprison them behind your lashline. “People tend to do that when you play with their feelings.”
“I wasn’t playing with your—”
“Then what were you doing?!” you snap. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why did you play this game of pretend?”
“I was waitin’ for ya to work up the courage to tell me on your own and actually remember it.” He says it as though it’s the most obvious thing in Twisted Wonderland.
“Why? So you can laugh at me out loud instead of in your head?”
“So I can tell you that I love you too!”
The flames nipping at your head and making you feel faint doesn’t die down, but a dull ache blooms beneath your ribs. You feel like both your brain and your throbbing heart are about to explode. It's just a matter of which goes boom first. “Leona, you don’t—”
“I do (y/n). I’ve been telling you and you don’t hear it. I’ve been showing you and you don’t see it.” He drags a large palm across his face with an exhausted sigh, ears flat against his scalp. “Even now, when I literally have no choice but to be truthful… is it really so hard to believe me?”
“It is.” Your cracked voice is barely audible.
He reaches for you. “C’mere…”
This time you don’t pull away.
You let him haul you into his lap, back pressed against his chest. One hand reaches around to thumb at stray tears on your cheek, but the other simply holds you there, just like the first time he held you outside the lab a few days ago. He rests his chin on your shoulder and presses his cheek against your face and neck, nuzzling you more gently than you thought he would.
For a while, you just sit there. The only noise in the room is the steady thump thump thump of Leona’s rebellious tail tapping the mattress.
“Wish you could see what I see,” he finally murmurs into the side of your throat.
“What do you see?”
“Someone really fucking hot when they straddle a broom.” He stiffens before groaning in embarrassment. “Shit. Sorry. Wasn’t s’posed to say that out loud just yet.”
This pulls a giggle from your lips.
“You are insanely pretty. But you’re kind. Funny. Strong.”
“I’m not strong.”
“You are,” he insists. “Might not get everything right the first time. Or anything, actually…”
“Not helping me feel better.”
He huffs into your flesh before continuing. “You’re diligent, though. Even if it takes a little push sometimes, you get back up. You got no clue how good it feels to watch you bounce back. And, fuck, that mouth of yours. Sometimes I wanna argue with you all day just to hear what you’ll come up with. Just to hear your voice…”
The thumping stops. His tail comes around to latch onto your thigh. His arms tighten around you. “Tell me what to say and I’ll say it. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to get it in your lil head that I love you.”
“I love you, Leona.”
“I know, kitten. But you gotta let me love you too. Gotta quit pushin’ me away…”
You shift in his lap, looking at him over your shoulder. “I’ll try but… these things take time, Leona.”
“Good thing I’m a patient guy,” he responds. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’m in no rush.”
“Are you—”
“I’m sure.”
“Very, well then.” You turn around fully to face him with a small smile. “I’ll do my best. Now let’s get the rest of this assignment out of the way.”
Leona’s sigh is almost pained. “Thought you finally forgot about that.”
°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°
Savanaclaw is fucking freezing in the wee hours of the morning. Good thing Leona has a fancy comforter.
The first rays of sunshine bounce off the shimmering elastics that circle your wrist, ordering you to rise. You roll onto your side to look for Leona. He’s still sprawled on his chair, where he had insisted he’d be fine for the night. “What’re you reading?” you question with a breathy and hoarse voice.
“It’s about trade routes,” he responds, voice equally raspy. He locks eyes with yours. “Found it in a thrift shop a while back. I can lend it to you, if you want.”
“Leona, did you sleep?”
“I’m about to.”
“But we have class.”
“Relax,” he drawls. “We don’t have Potions til this afternoon.”
You slowly sit up, pulling the heavy comforter further up your body. “What about History and Astrology? Are you really going to cut class?”
“Probably.” He closes the book and places it on the ground. “Unless Ruggie starts badgerin’ me.”
“Maybe I should call him right now then.”
“I’m rethinking my decision to keep you here…” Leona stretches with a loud yawn, the hem of his shirt riding up slightly. “Still got a couple hours til the first bell. I can get in a quick nap.”
You sigh and lie back down, knowing there’s no use in arguing. “Well hurry up and come to bed so you can make the most of it.”
Leona makes no move to stand from the chair. “You sure you want me in there with you?”
“I might freeze to death otherwise,” you quip.
The next thing you know, the mattress is sinking under his weight as he climbs under the sheets with you, mumbling out a quiet, “C’mere.”
“That didn’t take much convincing,” you joke as he pulls you closer to him, pressing his chest against your back. “Were you itching to snuggle, kitty?”
“Says the one using me as a heater,” he murmurs into your shoulder. His breath is warm and the vibrations of his groggy voice dance across your flesh. “Go back to sleep. You’ll need the rest.”
“What for?”
“There’s no practice for the boys today. I want you to fly with me.”
