𝙮𝙤𝙪 || 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Christmas at Aunt Cecilia's was an exciting event, to say the least. You didn't expect any revelations to come to light during your time there, but in the end, everyone had fun for the rest of the holidays.

She knows now that you are a witch. Magic being real wasn't a concept she could easily wrap her head around, so her fainting when her husband turns out to be a wizard himself was understandable.

It all began when you went to your Aunt's and saw Uncle Lewis again. He's been very busy working in another country for this foundation that rescues animals, is what Aunt Cecilia told you, so him being able to come home was a rare occasion.

As soon as he saw the red and gold scarf around your neck, he visibly tensed up before he ushered you and your parents inside. When Aunt Cecilia distracted them with tea, he grabbed you with the excuse of showing you something before taking you to the kitchens and immediately asking if you were a Gryffindor.

It clicked at that moment that he knew about Hogwarts. He explained that he used to go there before graduating, marrying a Muggle, and pursuing his dream job. He was still hiding his status as a wizard from Aunt Cecilia, seeing as she was all about being normal and a 'functioning member of society' (whatever that means) but he made up his mind when he could no longer bear to keep it a secret. He planned on confessing when he returned home from Norway.

It turns out that he's been staying there to study dragons, dragons, and you've never felt so lucky to have another family member who could use magic. The surprise was mutual on both sides.

He never expected you to be a witch. And frankly, he told you, that he used to see you as more of a Hufflepuff than a Gryffindor if you were ever to be sorted. When you inform him you were a Hufflepuff—he grinned—and the scarf was just a gift from a close friend—his smile disappeared—he seemed more interested in this friend of yours than the fact that you can use magic.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" He asked.

"Boy," you reply.

His brows furrow at this. "How old is he?"

"Er..." You ponder over what random numbers you were going to guess. You never knew Oliver's exact age. "Fifteen? And what does being a boy have to do with anything?"

"It doesn't matter, I was just curious," he said seriously. "I don't exactly trust both boys and girls around you. Or anyone at all!"

You frown slightly. "But Oliver's nice."

Then he rambles on about wolf wearing sheep's clothing for some reason? You didn't understand what he was trying to tell you anymore. You were starting to get frustrated when he wouldn't listen to your valid points about Oliver being a good person. Your voices grew louder with every second you spend in the argument that your mother came by to check what was going on.

"Mum, Uncle Lewis is a wizard!" You blurted out without any previous thoughts about consequences. You may or may not have done it on purpose to spite Uncle Lewis for badmouthing Oliver.

Your mom gasped. Your dad, who followed after her in concern, also gasped from the hallway outside. Aunt Cecilia, who heard your loud cry from the other room, came rushing in to see what was happening. Uncle Lewis gaped at you, apparently shaken that you betrayed him so quickly.

Amid the outbursts and confrontations going on, you just smiled, knowing that you succeeded in delivering justice for Oliver. This would make a good story to tell to your other friends on your way back to Hogwarts.

△⃒⃘ ⌁☍ ❾¾

As soon as the Christmas holidays ended, the trip from your home to King's Cross station and saying goodbye to your family passed by like short flashes of scenes until you got settled into a compartment in the Hogwarts Express. You expected to run into your Hufflepuff friends first, but someone else had come by before them.

"Hello, Seamus!" You greeted upon seeing him, watching as he opens the compartment doors with a wide smile of his own. "Are Dean and Neville not with you?"

"I was looking for 'em," he said, glancing around the empty compartment before his eyes go back to you. "But I'll just wait here. If you don't mind, of course," he added quickly.

You shake your head. "Please, sit. I'm dying to have someone to talk to," you said while gesturing to the empty seat in front of you. "So, how'd your Christmas break go?"

You were so immersed in Seamus' company that you fail to notice the train moving. You didn't mind that he was the one doing most of the talking. You were trying to curb your habit of rambling anyway, but he coaxes you to give lengthier answers that you couldn't help but go on a tangent. You were so into it that you never realized it was you doing most of the talking now, but Seamus looked more than happy to just listen.

You went on about things that happened during Christmas. You spoke of meaningless moments and details that served no importance, and yet your companion was hanging on to every word you said. Your ramblings may seem redundant but it meant so much to Seamus, even if you don't exactly realize this yet.

To him, these little moments with you were to be cherished. You were friends, yes, but you always hang out with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter that he doesn't get to interact with you as much. Not to mention that he felt awkward calling out to you whenever he sees you walking around the castle with your Hufflepuff buddies. Seamus was more confident this year. Better than he was before you became friends, but there was still a barrier looming between you that he wanted to cross.

It was that boundary that kept him from calling you in the corridors, that prevented him from sitting so close to you, that made his insides squirm like restless snakes whenever he sees you leaning comfortably against Granger or Potter or Weasley or anyone. And when they lean back, often snuggling close to your side, it was as if those snakes somehow grew wings and kept thrashing in his stomach while spewing venom up his throat.

He then wonders if you've hugged or kissed your other friends on the cheek other than him and Dean during last year's Christmas and if you've done it several times until now, but that often made him...exasperated? Sad? Something along those lines, so he shelves those thoughts to the furthest parts of his brain until he forgets about them temporarily.

That nasty feeling wasn't easy to get rid of. Seamus had no clue why or when it manifested, but he wasn't so overwhelmed that he doesn't notice how he unintentionally takes his frustration out on his friends. Especially Neville, because Merlin knows how often he avoids him ever since he noticed how many times he gets to talk to you. It wasn't Neville's fault that, despite being meek, he was braver when it came to you.

He really should apologize when he sees Neville again. He was as much of a friend as Dean was, and it seemed petty to ignore him just to quell his befuddling emotions. He had to handle this maturely, like how his parents handle situations he hopes to grasp someday when he grows up. What better time to practice being an adult than today?

But when the compartment doors slide open so suddenly, and he sees Dean and Neville poking their heads in, he tries not to show his disappointment at how his time alone with you was abruptly ended. Then, your Hufflepuff friends came by a minute later, and the compartment became noisier than before.

Still, the chatters weren't loud enough to distract Seamus that he wouldn't notice how the redhead—he vaguely remembers her being introduced as Susie or something—wrapped an arm around your shoulder in a hug as everyone laughed at some joke Dean said.

That bitter taste was making its way up to his throat again, but all he can do is grit his teeth into a forced smile.