Stay With Me || Garreth Weasley

A Foreboding Letter

With the Christmas holidays the perfect excuse to forget every single thing he's learnt over the last few months, Garreth expects you to double-down on the workload.

But, because of the poachers, the opposite happens.

Ever since they attacked on the way back from Keenbridge, you've been way less... involved in the tutoring sessions. You give him the barest amount of homework. You mark it without explaining what he's done wrong. Your eyes sweep every room you walk into, and your shoulders never relax from their taut position. It's like every moment you're prepared to spring away, wound up like a jack-in-the-box.

"Aguamenti!"

His wand is stubbornly unreactive, the bucket below him empty, and he drags a hand through his hair. He's lost count how many times he's tried to do this damn spell. Not even Avis gave him this much trouble.

"Aguamenti!"

Nothing.

You sit at the desk, indifferent. "Keep going."

"Tell me why I can't just use Aqua Eructo?"

"That's a combat spell." Your tone is devoid of inflection. "It's one jet of water, often used to disorientate an opponent. Aguamenti can conjure a soft stream, a dribble, or a jet. It's much more versatile."

"And much more difficult," he grumbles.

You don't answer; when he glances at you, you're staring out the window.

"You okay?"

You turn back, sweep your skirt. "I'm fine."

"Sure?"

"Try again, Garreth."

You continue to defer, no matter how many times he asks, so the moment in that hut, on that bridge, weigh leaden between you. The poacher attack, the fact that you're supposedly notorious to them... now that it's been about a week, he wants to hash out more details. Missy hasn't got back to him yet, her ex-poacher friend apparently fishing for more information, but if Cadger What's-His-Face really is dead-set on vengeance against you both, Garreth wants to be prepared, but he can't do that without your help.

Though for someone you confessed was the best thing that happened to you, you sure don't want to give him the time of day.

"So... can I read your palm now?"

The Divination classroom this session thankfully lacks Professor Onai's supervision. He sits on one side of the round table, legs crossed and textbook open.

"Hmm?" On the other side, you blink back from dreamland and sit up. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Your palm. Can I read it?"

You offer it wordlessly, and he cups your fingers – your hands are so slender in comparison to his meaty digits that he feels like he's handling a baby bird. One wrong movement will spoke you. You've got nice skin, he thinks idly. As skin goes, at least. Then he questions his entire reality because Merlin's right fibula what the hell's he noticing your skin for?

"Erm." He clears his throat. "Right, let's see... life line... hmm, it's got a circle there, which suggests you will get a serious health condition, sorry to break that to you... two marriage lines... that means you'll be torn between two lovers... and your heart line is massive, meaning you'll be hot in bed."

You snatch your hand back, blushing furiously. "What—? Garreth!"

"That's just what the book says."