𝙮𝙤𝙪 || 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱: 𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞

Unfortunately, you and Hermione had to part ways before and after breakfast. Gryffindor had Transfiguration while Hufflepuff took History of Magic.

You reunited with Susan in that class seeing as she was the only familiar face you saw. That and she had urged you to sit next to her both during breakfast and before class started.

You found History of Magic to be an interesting subject (your professor being a ghost was an added bonus), but you just chalked that up to the fact that you've never seen or experienced magic in your whole life. The majority of your classmates and Susan were bored minutes into your lecture.

But Susan did find your quick note-taking to be amusing, so she at least had something to entertain her during class.

"It's because you're Muggle-born, right?" Her expression suddenly shifts. "Not trying to be offensive or anything. It's actually quite cute how you find the lecture fascinating."

You stop writing for a moment, made sure that Professor Binns wasn't looking, before whispering back. "What's a Muggle-born?"

"Oh. You don't know? It means that your parents are non-magical folk. We call them Muggles."

After that enlightening fact, History of Magic finally ended and you had free period. Susan invited you to join her and a few Hufflepuffs, but you politely decline. Hermione wanted to see you in the library during your shared free period.

It took you a good twenty minutes to locate the library after several wrong turns. You had to ask a few students where it was, and by the time you found it you saw Hermione was already seated at a nearby table.

You smile at the librarian (which earns you an indifferent glance) before making your way towards your friend. Once you pull up the chair in front of her, she finally takes notice of your appearance and sighs.

"Finally! I thought you wouldn't come," Hermione said. "You didn't get lost, did you?"

You smile coyly. "Uh, no?"

Hermione just deadpans at you. You puff up your cheeks, looking at anywhere but at her.

"(Y/n)," she begins, exasperated. "You do know that I gave you directions at least five times before breakfast?"

"I-I forget things easily, okay? I'm sorry."

You spend your free period reading and getting tutored by Hermione. Not that you were complaining.

△⃒⃘ ⌁☍ ❾¾

"Having trouble with the rhythm?"

You were just manifesting some mean energy on the barrels when you heard the sudden voice, making you jump. You turn away from the barrels to face the person who spoke.

You almost gaped at the boy in front of you. Dark, slightly messy hair, grey eyes, a tall stature, and a smile that complimented his features. Handsome would be an understatement. He was beautiful.

You were flustered, not knowing how or why you even thought that. You were suddenly unable to utter a single coherent word, your mouth open and closing like a fish.

Thankfully, he seems to take your odd behavior as shyness, as his expression suddenly turns apologetic.

"Did I scare you?"

You didn't trust yourself to speak, so you just nod. A flash of guilt looms over you as he grimaced. You shouldn't have done that.

"I'm sorry. Uh," he trails off, looking at the barrels before giving you the briefest of smiles. "Here. Let me show you how to open it."

You tried not to panic as he places a hand on your back and pushes you gently to face the barrels again. Your heart was pounding wildly and his close proximity didn't help. At all.

"You're a first-year, right? See, what you need to do is tap the barrel to the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff."

He does so and the barrel immediately opens. He taps it again and it closes. "Got it?" He asked, looking at you to see if you had paid attention.

You nodded, gulping when he drags you to the spot where he was previously standing. He was now behind you, hands on your shoulders.

Be still, beating heart.

"Now, it's your turn."

You let out a shaky breath, raised your dominant fist and tapped the barrel in what you thought to be the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff. You must have done something wrong at the end because no sooner as you finished, he suddenly pulls you closer and pushes you away from the barrels.

Before you could do anything else, a different barrel opens up and he was immediately sprayed with vinegar. You can smell its strong scent wafting in the air, making you gag.

Now, standing in front of you was a vinegar-drenched Hufflepuff. You can see the way his face scrunches up as he lifts his arms away from his body. You feel guilt crawling on your back as you rush to his side.

"I—" You start, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean-mean to—"

"It's alright, I'm okay," he reassures you. "I didn't expect you to get it on your first try, first-year." He chuckles, reminding you of how Oliver treats you kindly. This puts a smile on your face.

"Well, ready to try again?"

"Pardon?"

It took you exactly four times before you could memorize the rhythm, and by the time you made it to the common room, the both of you were soaked in vinegar. He managed to shield you the second time, but his reflexes weren't fast enough the next two tries. It was as if the barrels were aware of his heroic saves and did twice the amount of effort necessary to spray vinegar just so you would be included.

"Ugh." Your nose scrunches up in disgust as you smell yourself. You knew the scent wouldn't wash away from your robes easily. You just hope that whoever did the laundry will forgive you.

The boy who had helped you just laughs as you continue to sniff your robes. "I trust that you already took the rhythm to memory?"

"Err, probably?" You respond, unsure if he would get mad or not.

He just blinks, looking quite incredulous, and you wanted to slap yourself for not lying instead. After everything he did to teach you, you ended up forgetting it anyway. It was understandable if he was infuriated.

But then, he just smiles, not a hint of anger on his face. You couldn't help but notice how handsome he looks like even with vinegar dripping from his hair.

"If you need any help, I can always—"

Before he gets to finish his sentence, multiple squeals erupted from behind him. He steps to the side just in time before five girls came barreling towards him.

"Ceddie, are you alright?"

"You reek of vinegar!"

"What happened?"

You can barely see him when the group had crowded around him already, standing on their tiptoes and brandishing their handkerchiefs from their pockets to wipe his face.

Ceddie? Must be a nickname.

You decided to just thank him later if you see him. You doubt your words of gratitude can amount much to the worried tones and loving words of his...fangirls?

As they fuss over him, you took this as your cue to walk away and change into new clothes. Then, you'll take a bath with the intent of using twice as much needed shampoo and soap.