Stories don't always begin with stolen glances or promises. Sometimes they start between the lines of a book, behind a Potions desk or in an overcrowded train carriage. Seléne Montrose is a brilliant, competitive and charismatic Gryffindor. With her sharp humour and hidden anxiety about always having to prove herself, she built a solid reputation: a girl who knows how to stand up for herself, even when her heart races faster than her confidence. Blaise Zabini, instead, spent six years in the silvery shadows of the Slytherin dungeons. Elegant, reserved, unapproachable, with an aura of detachment that makes him difficult to read but impossible to ignore. The son of a feared yet admired mother, he learned early on not to trust others, to protect himself behind a controlled smile, to hint at a lot and say very little. They'd never really spoken to each other before being the Slug Club. Sitting a few seats apart, forced to share the same air and conversations, Seléne and Blaise suddenly found themselves adversaries. Two opposing worlds. Two characters destined to clash. But behind provocations and glances, there was common ground that neither of them wanted to acknowledge: the fear of showing vulnerability, the intolerance towards those who took everything for granted, the awareness that growing up in an ancient family did not mean feeling understood. It wasn't love at first sight or fierce hatred - but something more subtle: a balancing act, a tightrope that risked breaking with every sharp remark, every challenge thrown down, every silence shared for too long. As the war approached, two seemingly incompatible students would discover that attraction doesn't always arise only from the opposite that fascinates, but from that unexpected reflection that forces you to see yourself in the eyes of the other. blaise zabini x fem!oc started 25.01.2026

Born and first raised in a home filled with love and laughs, Lyra Eileen Potter came into the world minutes before her twin brother, Harry James Potter. So she was the first to cry and the first to be held - but the fate decided she'd be the one to be taken away first, that night. On October 31st 1981, the night everything changed for Harry - who soon became the Boy Who Lived -, a burst of white lighting carried Lyra out of Voldemort's reach. And while everyone remembered Harry, no one remembered Lyra - the Girl Who Vanished. Years passed, and under the name Selwyn, she grew up surrounded by the cold elegance and silver-lined expectations - a pureblood legacy, distant smiles, and rules stitched into every word. But Lyra learned how to adapt, how to read people, how to keep secrets. At Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat had screamed Slytherin. And although she wore green and silver with quiet pride, she never truly mirrored those beside her: she was too thoughtful to follow blindly, too curious to conform - and too kind, perhaps, for a house known for its ambition and edge. Then her fourth year came and something shifted. Behind everything, a warmth became to bloom. Maybe it was the Twiwizard Tournament. Maybe it was him - the red-haired prankster with too much charm in his grin and too much gentleness in his gaze: George Weasley. Or maybe it was the way she started to really look at Harry Potter - not as the boy who lived, but as someone ho carried the same quiet ache in her chest. Or perhaps it was simply time for the lies to crack, and for the speed in her blood to rise. [gof-dh] [george weasley x fem!oc] [started august 4, 2025]

Nata e cresciuta in una casa piena di amore e risate, Lyra Eileen Potter è venuta al mondo pochi minuti prima del suo gemello, Harry James Potter. È stata quindi la prima a piangere e la prima ad essere presa in braccio, ma il destino ha deciso che sarebbe stata lei a essere portata via per prima, quella notte: il 31 ottobre 1981, la notte in cui tutto cambiò per Harry, che presto sarebbe diventato il Ragazzo che è Sopravvissuto, un lampo bianco portò Lyra lontano dalla portata di Voldemort. E mentre tutti ricordavano Harry, nessuno ricordava Lyra, la Ragazza Che Scomparve. Passarono gli anni e, sotto il nome Selwyn, Lyra crebbe in una famiglia circondata da un'eleganza fredda e da aspettative argentate: un'eredità di sangue puro, sorrisi distanti e regole cucite in ogni parola. Ma Lyra imparò ad adattarsi, a leggere le persone, a mantenere i segreti. A Hogwarts, il Cappello Parlante aveva urlato "Serpeverde". E anche se indossava il verde e l'argento con tranquillo orgoglio, non rispecchiava mai veramente quelli che le stavano accanto: era troppo riflessiva per seguire ciecamente, troppo curiosa per conformarsi e forse troppo gentile per una casa nota per la sua ambizione e il suo carattere spigoloso. Poi arrivò il suo quarto anno e qualcosa cambiò. Dietro tutto, cominciò a sbocciare un calore. Forse fu il Torneo Tremaghi. Forse era lui, il burlone dai capelli rossi con troppo fascino nel sorriso e troppa gentilezza nello sguardo: George Weasley. O forse era il modo in cui aveva iniziato a guardare davvero Harry Potter, non come il ragazzo che era sopravvissuto, ma come qualcuno che portava lo stesso silenzioso dolore nel petto. O forse era semplicemente giunto il momento che le bugie crollassero e che la velocità nel suo sangue aumentasse.