Chapter Text
"Yes, page 123 of your books. Today we shall study Amortentia—the love potion I’m sure you’re all quite familiar with." Professor Slughorn, of course, preferred to dive straight into the subject matter early in the year without delay. I involuntarily sighed, resting my chin in my palm. As my hair became a veil over my face, my eyes drifted to the brilliant sunshine outside.
"I'm sorry, I'm late." I didn’t need to turn around to see who had burst through the door—unceremoniously and deliberately. I already knew.
"Oh, no matter at all, my dear Mr. Jeon! Please, please, take your seat. Every young man is entitled to a bit of tardiness now and then, of course." The Professor loved to grant favors to his pets, and Jungkook was undoubtedly the professor's number one student.
"I’d understand if it were only occasionally," I grumbled. The classroom was shrouded in a silence deeper than I expected in that brief second; I was certain even Ceccilia, dozing in the back, had heard me.
"Did you say something, Miss Zabini?" Professor Slughorn arched his snowy eyebrows high above his round-framed spectacles, looking at me curiously. I fixed my gaze on Jungkook, whose icy expression pierced through the raven-black hair falling over his eyes, and said: "The term started weeks ago, yet I have yet to see Mr. Jeon arrive on time for a single lesson."
"Oh, of course," the Professor said, chuckling sweetly to diffuse the tension. "As Prefect, it is your duty to oversee such matters, Miss Zabini." Slughorn paused, nudging his glasses up, and took a deep breath after a brief sweep of the room. "In that case, I must deduct five points from you, Mr. Jeon. I trust this won't happen again. Now, please take your seats. Where were we?"
Jungkook, without withdrawing his narrowed eyes from me, went and sat in the seat diagonally behind mine. I ignored the whispers about me. When Scorpius grumbled beside me, my gaze shifted to him. "You just can't help picking a fight, can you?"
"As Quidditch Captain, don't you think he should show a bit more responsibility?"
"Zabini would die if she wasn't being a nuisance for once."
"Tch—she goes mental the moment the spotlight shifts away from her, as if you didn't know."
The whispers from the two Gryffindors behind me were too loud to ignore. I tossed my hair back and turned to them. "If you have a grievance, why not say it to my face instead of hiding behind your breath?"
As the girls continued to fix their condescending stares on me, Scorpius turned around. "Or make sure you aren't overheard next time, lest you fall victim to a 'classroom accident'—who knows?" He had inherited his ice-blue eyes and cold, pale skin from his father, but his menacing nature was far greater than Mr. Malfoy’s; I supposed that was due to Mrs. Malfoy.
The girls mumbled something while flushing and broke eye contact, returning to their cauldrons. I involuntarily rolled my eyes. What, was I not scary enough on my own, but the moment my boyfriend spoke, they folded like parchment?
"Don't get worked up so quickly," Scorpius grumbled, knowing exactly what was going through my mind. I just rolled my eyes again and faced forward. The brief eye contact with Jungkook only served to fray my nerves further.
The rest of the lesson was spent making the potion as described in the book, but for some reason, mine failed at a certain point. It had transformed into a slimy, green entity that grumbled as it slithered out of the classroom.
Of course, this was hilarious for everyone except me: The Slytherin Head Girl can’t even brew a proper Amortentia. Ha-ha.
"That's all for today. Dismissed." Mr. Slughorn ended the lesson by shaking his head in disappointment over my cauldron. I fought a lethal struggle not to blink my tear-filled eyes, letting the pain escape through my bitten lips; I knew that the moment I blinked, the tears would roll down my face.
So, without waiting for the professor to comment further, I grabbed my bag in a fury and stormed out.
I heard Scorpius calling out and the sounds of laughter, but I wasn't sure if it was aimed at me; I was making an incredible effort not to curse the first person I encountered.
The sound of my heavy footsteps—as if I were trying to damage the floor—bounced off the stone walls and echoed back to me, when someone called my name again from behind.
Instead of turning around, I quickened my pace. "Leave me alone, Malfoy!" I shouted.
The footsteps slowed and stopped, followed by a low, deep chuckle. My own steps slowed as I stopped in the middle of the empty corridor leading to Hagrid’s hut.
It was quite dark; save for the ends of the corridor, there was nothing illuminating the midpoint where I stood.
As the sound of footsteps regained life and drew closer, I finally turned around. Jungkook stood right in front of me, His tall, lean frame loomed over me like a dark omen. His long, raven-black, wavy hair obscured his eyes, framing his bony face. He crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side. "Don't you think this formality between you and your boyfriend is a bit old-fashioned? We're living in the 21st century."
"I don't think the bond between me and my boyfriend is any of your business, Jeon."
"Ah, I understand," he said and laughed. Despite his broad shoulders and tall stature, everything he wore seemed loose, as if his clothes were just hanging on him. "That's something unique to you, Zabini. I’d forgotten."
"You don't need to keep anything about me in your head anyway. What do you want?"
I didn't try to hide the blatant annoyance in my voice. Jungkook, as if suddenly remembering why he'd come, straightened his relaxed shoulders and leaned over me, erasing all human emotion from his face. “What's your problem with me?"
"I have a problem with everyone. What makes you think you're special?"
When he narrowed his slanted eyes and furrowed the thick eyebrows that shadowed them, I felt the last of my energy being drained from me.
"I don't know what this animosity is based on. But we’re in the same House, and the points you lost us by ratting me out are also deducted from your house. I hope you realize that... Madam President."
After his eyes darted between mine for just a few more seconds, he pulled back, adjusted his bag, and walked away with his hands in his pockets as if I hadn't been there at all.
After the intense classes, I found myself asleep on a sofa in the common room, in Malfoy's lap. I had no idea at what point I’d moved from the Great Hall to the building, or when I’d grown bored with my book and curled up in Scorpius's arms.
When he noticed I was awake, Malfoy's fingers, which had been wandering through my hair, paused, and I sat up. "I wish you’d never wake up," he murmured, his eyes still fixed on the lines of his book. I rubbed my eyes, unable to suppress a yawn. "Why?"
"You're so peaceful when you sleep. But the moment you wake up—as if someone had added milk to your morning coffee—you immediately start scowling and sulking."
I hadn't even realized I was frowning until he said it. I released my brows and let my shoulders droop. I remained silent, my eyes wandering over my uniform which I’d forgotten to change out of; I didn't know how to respond.
I looked at Malfoy as he took a deep breath; his eyes seemed ready to catch mine, and the moment they met, a warmth spread through his icy blues. "Are you going to tell me why you didn't go for the tryouts this year?"
"This topic again?" Ready to embrace his compassion, I recoiled at his words and stood up, rolling my eyes.
"Yes," he said in an authoritative tone, closing his book and setting it on the table as he rose with me. "This topic again."
"I’m not going to argue with you, Malfoy." My steps retreated toward the dormitory while Scorpius remained by the armchair. The firelight hit him from behind, casting him in total darkness and making him look more imposing than he was. Yet, I could discern the disappointment on his face; it was clear that the barriers I’d put up were wearing him down, making him feel as though I put him in the same category as everyone else.
Even though this upset me too, I wasn't making an effort to show him otherwise.
It felt safer that way.
Finally, I turned away and, instead of leaving him by the fireplace and heading to the dormitories, I left the building. At this hour of the night, no one would—or could—care where I was going.
In the pitch-dark corridors, ascending from the dungeons into one of the main halls, I was met by Peeves.
"Where are you off again at this hour?" Peeves glided around me, doing somersaults and passing right through me. I realized I was smiling for the first time today. Shrugging, I followed him toward the dark, deserted corners of the castle, murmuring, "Tell me, Peeves," as I continued through the labyrinthine, winding corridors in the direction I knew by heart. He responded with a 'hm,' disappearing into the walls. "Do I really frown all the time?"
He paused when we reached my favorite spot. In the middle of the pitch darkness, I sat on the stairs, casting a Warming Charm on them, and looked out the large window at the starless sky—as dark as the interior of the castle.
We were on one of the floors of an abandoned tower; the stairs were so narrow that two people could barely fit side-by-side.
"I don't know," said Peeves, sitting down next to me so that part of him remained inside the wall. "I only see you in the evenings, and at those hours, you just look exhausted."
I pursed my lips and leaned my head against the stone. There had been a relentless anger inside me for a long time, draining all my energy.
"Why ask me, anyway?" he said, raising his eyebrows with a gentle expression, in contrast to the incredibly annoying persona he usually displayed. I genuinely liked him. Unlike everyone else, he understood me.
"Because you're my friend. Who else could I ask?"
"Ah, Ursula... I think you have more serious problems to worry about than a scowl," Peeves chuckled mockingly. I felt my brows furrow. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Why no real friends? You're in your sixth year, yet you regularly visit me in this stairwell you discovered back in your second. And here I was, so certain you'd be bringing a boy here by your fourth year."
I rolled my eyes and my gaze drifted back to the window. "I have Scorpius."
"That Malfoy boy?"
My sudden burst of laughter startled Peeves. "What," he huffed, "did I say something wrong?"
"No," I said, after suppressing my laughter. "It was just funny that you said his name as if it were a curse word."
This time he rolled his eyes and continued. "He doesn't count."
"And why not?" I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my chin on them, turning my head toward him. Even the thin cracks in the wall behind his pale gray form were clearly visible.
"You didn't become friends with him; you were born friends. Besides, he’s your boyfriend."
"You know better than anyone that this isn't real anymore, Peeves. He’s my—friend."
"Still," he said, the mischievous expression on his face showing that he was planning something, and I knew nothing I did could change his mind. A premonition made my skin crawl. Peeves was about to say something I was going to hate; I knew him.
"I want you to make a new friend."
"I don't need a new friend, Peeves. You know how shitty people are."
"Not all of them," Peeves grinned wickedly, wiggling his eyebrows. "There’s one."
"Who?" I asked, having already accepted that I would come out of this conversation wounded. Being close friends with the school's most chaotic, annoying, and unreliable ghost had its price.
"Tall, handsome... perhaps too handsome."
"Knowing that I’m at the center of all the gossip, you want me to befriend a new man? I’m starting to think you don't like me."
He laughed. "Your nature wouldn't get along with another woman as feisty as yourself, and you can't stand whiners, Ursula. We both know that."
"There's Potter. Doesn't he count as a friend?" My desperate struggles seemed to amuse him; he shook his head and grinned gleefully. "Potter or Malfoy, they're both two sides of the same coin. In the end, you always come back to me."
"So your aim is to get rid of me? If so, I was the first to discover this place; you're free to never return." He cackled at my offense and gave a sarcastic "really?" look with his eyebrows raised.
I shrugged in resignation and groaned, throwing my hands up. "Fine. Tell me, what do you want from me?"
"That boy with the slanted eyes. He's in Slytherin too. In fact, he’s the Quidditch Captain this year."
My eyes widened in pure astonishment and horror as I shook my head violently. "You must be joking."
"Why?" He paused, pulling back slightly to scrutinize me suspiciously. "He seems like a decent, quiet, and easy-going fellow."
"God, Peeves, I beg you, pick someone else. Anyone but him."
Peeves suddenly shifted from sitting to gliding, doing somersaults in the air that made my head spin as if it were all a game. "Look at that! Why the sudden panic?"
I knew it was too late to pretend, so I just looked away. "I don't know. I just can't stand him. I don't even like being in the same room."
Peeves leaned into my face and nodded with a devilish grin. "I know."
Confused, I pulled back, trying to make sense of his words. "What do you mean?"
"Did you really believe me when I said I only see you in the evenings? I’m a ghost, Ursula. I have plenty of free time during the day."
My brows furrowed in anger. "And you spend that time following me around like a stalker?"
"Oh, darling..." His high-pitched laugh, usually reserved for annoying everyone but me, filled the air. This time, I couldn't help but be annoyed too. "On the contrary," he continued, "let's just say I'm observing my only friend. You're important to me."
"I don't believe anyone but yourself could be important to you; you just tolerate me, that's the only difference between me and the others," I grumbled. He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Meh—the point is, I've watched you both, and you have more in common than you think. I want you to be friends with him."
I didn't think I could endure this nonsense any longer. Rubbing both my temples, I muttered, "What is this, some kind of early April Fool's joke?" I hadn't expected him to hear me.
"That wasn't a request," he chirped, drawing out the last syllable as he spun around. I was starting to get truly angry; I’d come here to rest, not to tremble with rage.
"And if I refuse, Peeves? I don't want to go down this path with you."
He suddenly stopped spinning and turned to me with a dead-serious expression. "Ah, Ursula... I didn't want to resort to this, but you're leaving me no choice."
"What are you talking about?"
"If," he reached out dramatically, tracing his intangible fingertips across my cheek, "you don't become friends with him by the Yule Ball... I’ll tell everyone that Malfoy is actually gay and in a relationship with Potter, Zabini. And you know I’ll do it."
I was completely frozen, unable to even breathe. I don't know how many times I struggled to find my voice; I don't remember my heart ever beating this fast. Not even when Malfoy stole my first kiss back when we were children, before he’d realized his orientation and we felt something real for each other. Back then, I thought I would die. But it was nothing compared to this. The only difference was that then, my heart pounded with excitement and pure happiness; now, it beat only with deep fear, anxiety, and pain.
With tears welling in my eyes, I whispered, "I thought you were my friend." For a moment, it seemed to crack his devilish mask, but he quickly composed himself and drifted back.
"I am."
"Friends don't blackmail each other through their weakest points, Peeves. Clearly, everyone was right about you, and I was a fool to believe in you."
It felt as if whatever kept my muscles upright had been drained from my veins. I stood up on knees trembling from weakness, wiping the traces of a few tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.
"I'm doing this for you," he said, his voice faint. I didn't lift my head to look at him. All I wanted was to scream, stomp my feet, and hurl things at him, but I simply stayed silent.
"Ursula..." I didn't know why I was still listening. I knew Peeves; he was serious about every word. He had nothing to lose, so he would do it. Every single word.
He would do it knowing full well how much it would hurt me, how it would make us all out to be liars, and what it would do to our reputations in the eyes of our families.
"You don't see it now, and you hate me, I know. You believe I’m the ultimate scumbag everyone says I am. You're angry. But believe me, one way or another, I won't gain a thing from this. I only want what's best for you."
I laughed. It was the kind of laugh that even made me hurt.
Just before I began my slow descent down the stairs, I muttered, "Liar," and shook my head in disappointment.
I felt as if everything I was barely holding together had suddenly collapsed on me, and I couldn't breathe beneath the rubble.