The Perfect Night

Part 1: Hidden Feelings

There was something about his eyes, glinting in the candlelight, that made time stand still. You stood in the doorway of the scriptorium, watching him toil over Slytherin's spellbook. In all the years you'd known him, you had never seen him study something so passionately. His usual carefree and roguish charm is the face he wore most of the time. It's what made him so magnetic. He could make anyone smile, even if they didn't want to. He lightened your heart and made the dark corners of your world a little less scary. How could you not fall in love with him?

You never said any of that to him, of course.

But as he sat there, haloed by the warm yellow candlelight, lower lip caught between his teeth, and hand tangled in his dark curls, the thoughts you so desperately tried to keep buried deep inside threatened to boil over. He hadn't heard you approach, and you didn't want to disturb the serene perfection of that moment.

You were suddenly glad that Sebastian had decided to use the scriptorium as his private office. Ominis knew about the scriptorium, but considering the dark magic that surrounded it, he had no interest in returning. So, it was just you and Sebastian. Late nights combing through notes and ancient books. Early mornings pouring over maps and drawings of runes and relics.

You wouldn't have traded it for anything. And that's why you kept your mouth shut and feelings shoved down into the tiniest box at the bottom of your heart.

"Ominis is looking for you," you say, just louder than a whisper, not wanting to startle him.

The magic moment was broken. Sebastian's brow relaxed, and his hand fell from his hair. You were sad for a moment, but when he looked up at you and smiled, none of that mattered. He was happy. This was the first time you'd seen him happy in nearly a year. But now he had hope.

You endured the Cruciatus Curse. You opened Salazar Slytherin's scriptorium. You gave him that hope. You fought the color that started to rise on your cheeks and stepped forward into the room.

"He needs your help getting ready for the Midwinter Ball. For some reason, he declined my offer to help even though I told him I'm perfectly capable of buttoning his trousers if he needs it." You tried to hold a straight face but burst out laughing when you reached Sebastian. The look of confusion mixed with horror was more than worth it.

He chuckled and relaxed when he realized you were joking, "Leave the jokes to me, sweetheart. You're bound to give someone a heart attack."

You both laughed for a few more moments. You soaked in the sound, cheerful, melodic, and wonderful. Wiping a stray tear from your eye, you told him that Ominis really was looking for him and needed his help.

"Right," he sighed. "Well, I suppose I need to get ready anyway. The search can hold on for one more night. I can't keep him waiting. You're not ready yet either," he said as he stood up from the chair and looked you up and down. "Did you plan to stand me up? Listen to me now. I refuse to go to the dance with Ominis as my date."

"Of course not. But I didn't want to come down here to this dusty old room and ruin my dress."

"Right, well, there isn't any more time to waste. We better get back to the dorms," he said, grabbing your hand in his and pulling you out into the corridor.

If someone had told you last year that Sebastian was your date to the Midwinter Ball, you would've either told them they were a liar or died of happiness. The reality was a little less magical.

You had been waiting for Sebastian and Ominis in the Great Hall, making sure the two spaces next to you remained open for them.

"Ah, there you are."

The voice came from the entrance and made your stomach drop. Frederick Fawley. He'd spent the last five years bullying you, and now the rumor was that he was going to ask you to the Midwinter Ball. Just the thought made you wish you could disapparate. You were sure it was some sort of cruel and twisted joke.

"What do you want, Frederick?" you asked, doing nothing to hide the disdain in your voice.

"Whoa, baby, no need to be so hostile," he replied, feigning hurt as he sat down in the empty spot on your left.

The way he said baby made you want to wretch.

"That spot's taken," you said, scooting away from him.

"I don't see anyone else here. Besides, I won't be here long. I just wanted to ask you something."

Oh, Merlin. What could he possibly have to ask you? You didn't respond, but he continued anyway.

"What color are you wearing to the Midwinter Ball?"

You blinked, taken by surprise. What kind of question was that?

"Why do you want to know?"

"So I can coordinate, of course."

"I'm not going to the dance with you, Frederick," you said with a small nervous laugh.

"Why not? It's not like you have anyone else to go with."

Laughter surrounded you. Obviously, the other Slytherin students had been eavesdropping. This wasn't going to end well. If you admitted to not having a date, Frederick and the other students would mock you. If you lied, well, they would probably find out and mock you anyway.

"I... Well, I am–"

"She's going with me, Frederick." Sebastian's voice cut through the laughter.

You reveled in the feeling of relief that washed over you at Sebastian's words. They repeated in your mind as you slipped into your dress. The emerald green velvet sat beautifully against your skin, making your eyes sparkle.

You had splurged on a new dress, not wanting to waste this one opportunity for a perfect night with Sebastian. You had convinced yourself that a perfect night with Sebastian simply involved keeping him out of trouble and not thinking about ancient magic, curses, or OWLs. He was only going with you to be nice, after all. You promised yourself you wouldn't get carried away and that you would do nothing to jeopardize your friendship.

With a final look in the mirror, you pinched your cheeks and headed out to meet Sebastian and Ominis in the common room. For some reason, you were nervous. It was ridiculous. You had known Sebastian all your life. A fancy dress and a nice suit didn't change any of that.

Never had you regretted a single thought more than that one.