1 The Witch and His Diary

Never judge a witch by her cover, a valuable lesson for the ton, especially for those who deem a skillful pure-blooded witch, such as you, to be tamed. Well, they let the perfect pressed skirts and ribboned hair fool them, completely clueless about your true behavior.

You aren't a complete menace, if you were than you'd be thrown out into the streets early on but you were a proper troublemaker, you knew when to strike and when to sit down and give people an innocent smile, the fact you were genuinely comedic and trustworthy made it even harder for you to be deciphered.

If given a chance to explain why you burned James Potter's homework during the rare days he does it or why the Hufflepuff basement has been haunted by a sound of hissing - which they still haven't found the source of - and especially why you haven't been caught is simple; you use your intelligence and charm.

You gave a few top students a run for their brooms and parchmemts when you transferred from Ilvermorny, you weren't only gifted with the knowledge needed in the wizarding world but also the gift of simple and plain assumptions. You're prideful, assumptions you give - to you - are a blazing fact, you feel it as a hunch, an instinct and that's what you credit for not being prosecuted for your troubles.

"Y/n Slughorn." McGonagall ripped you out of your daze, and you sit straight immediately, "Yes, Professor?" you question, she was right in front of you.

"Are you listening?" she asked and you nod, "Very well, tell me the first rule of Transfiguration."

Most students would break under the Professor's piercing gaze but you simply answer without hesitation or breaking eye contact, "Point your wand at the specimen, not at your seatmate," you point your wand at your seatmate, Sirius Black - who immediately shimmied away from the point of your wand - for demonstration, "or at you." you added with a small smile.

Godric knows you haven't been listening the minute class started, you know that yourself along with everybody else, you've been completely fascinated with the mirror at the corner of the room though you weren't eyeing yourself, but rather the boy who sat at the very back, nose deep into his book like he'd rather sip the information out than sit in a room of imbeciles.

"Very good." the Professor sighed in defeat, before turning her back and marching to the front of the class.

Class ended swiftly and you busy yourself with arranging your stuff as the class file out, but you stop when you hear the familiar sound of the one and only James Potter.

You turn to see him and Sirius picking on him again, poor Severus quickly trying to pull his books away but to no avail when Sirius grabs it and raises it up high, going on his tiptoes.

"Give it back, Black." your fellow Slyherin demanded though his voice came out like a dolorous lullaby.

By instinct, you mutter a hex under your breath and Sirius immediately threw the book and it hit his comrade James in the nose, a simple goosebumping hex always works on him.

Before they regain composure you were already behind them with your arms crossed and with a playful smile, "Balmy breeze for a classroom, isn't that right, Black?"

"Slughorn." he sneers, hugging himself as James curses at the pain.

Instead of confronting you he turned to Severus, "Snivellus needs a doll to help him, eh?"

"Sirius, shall I repeat the first rule of Transfigurstion?" 

"What ever for, doll?" he smirks, your relationship with the idiot of a wizard has always been with teasing and playful hexes but you swear on Salazar he's scared of you.

"Because I'm willing to break that rule for you." and with that, you point your wand right on his nose, "A book can break a nose but I'm afraid I didn't hear it crack on Pottery, so would you be a dear and fulfill that desire?"

He backed away slightly as James continued to groan.

"Get the bloody Baron out." you smile and as if on cue, Remus, who stood on the sidelines swept both his friends off their feet and dragged them out, on his way he turned back a gave you a grateful yet apologetic glance to which you replied with a nod.

You turn to Severus who was dusting off his book with furrowed brows, well, dusting or not, he always furrowed his brows by default, which to you was adorable, "I told you to call for me whenever they messed with you." 

"I told you to stop doing that."

You scoff, "Well, I can't help that I know when your in trouble." you said proudly.

It was his turn to scoff, Severus walked away and you followed laughing, it was free period so you dared to relax your shoulders as it occassionally brushed against his in the packed hallway.

He pulled out his potions book and you knew you were screwed, because contrary to common belief, you sucked at potions - well that least that's what they think, you made a fool out of everyone - despite it being something your family mastered.

It all started with a lovely argument with your grandfather, Horace Slughorn who was your Potion's Professor, you failed the subject on purpose, causing explosions intentionally and tipping over someone else's cauldron as smoke hindered their vision - though that part he didn't know - which in return, he had his star student Severus Snape become your tutor.

A few months later and you were still getting tutored, not because you were unable to accept defeat, you weren't that proud, but because you couldn't take your eyes off Severus and despite your bustling mind you had kept that information from seeing the light of day because you had to make sure he felt the same before you spill the words out your lips.

So you were euophoric that day underneath the largest tree in the courtyard. You laid alone surrounded by a mixture of your notes and Severus' books and hand made questionnaires. He had to get something and left you, the wind had raised your curiosity when it blew the notebook he has always placed as far away from your gaze as possible.

You knew it was bad to put your nose in other people's privacy but you curiosity got the best of you, after a few moments of reading you were bored, it was a diary but a rarely bland one, mostly filled with words of excitement when he discovered the correct recipe for a potion - to which he reclutantly shared with you ovee the course of your lessons - so that you immediately spotted the odd one out.

It made your heart flutter in every direction that you felt completely relaxed underneath that tree, it sweetly read:

I ought to ignore my growing adoration,

I wish to avoid any sort of confrontation.

Though it has been out of my power,

I cannot sway away from this love forever.

What has she done to me.

A poet or not, his words were poetic and warmingly sweet that you let out a joyous chuckle, he felt the same way? then you should go and run to him right now.

Instead of doing so, you stayed, resting his diary on your chest as your mind worked on engineering your assumptions into a vivid daydream that you were sure was gonna be reality anytime soon.

You pictured yourself confessing with confidence, the look on his face brightening when he realizes you feel the same way, "I like you, too" he'd say and you swear everything will be heaven from now on.

How would you react the first time you hold hands? his skillful calloused hands against your softer ones, would they fit perfectly? of course!

What would it be like to go on your tiptoes and kiss him? Will he blush and melt into a puddle or kiss you back? Will you make it until graduation? What does the world have in store after graduation? Will you still be together?

You kick the air with excitement before noticing a continuation written at the back;

Loving her came as a surprise,

but I knew it would last, for centuries to past.

Her red hair flowing in the air,

is intoxicating that I can no longer bare.

I wish to say my feelings out loud,

but my voice would betray me from sounding proud.

A nervous laugh came rippling out, you didn't have red hair, maybe it was a typo?

I wish to let Lily know,

that she has bewitched now.

Your hold on the the hardbound journal weakened and you got a face full of hardness, now you could sympathize with James but the pain on your nose wasn't half  the pain compared to the shattering of your heart.

You had thought wrong, the realization came stumbling down, the words began to stick in your head and then tears started to flow, you shot up, trying to wipe your tears. You felt humiliated and ashamed of your assumption that when you heard his subtle and awfully kind voice calling out your name, it fueled you to get up and walk away.

No longer would you assume. It wasn't right to stay mad, especially at him.