Chapter Text
NOKTO LUNA
CHAPTER ONE: BEGINNING
“Welcome to your first day of Advanced Potions. I would like to take this time to congratulate each one of you for your brilliant work during the previous school year. It is an honor to teach some of the future’s best potion makers.”
Wednesday Addams blinked at Professor Kinbott from her seat in the back corner of the classroom.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The annoyingly cheerful woman—Wednesday would never understand how the potions professor was the head of Slytherin House—was mental. Wednesday would hardly characterize the other six students sitting in rapt attention as the ‘best’. Most of them were barely competent in potions, managing to come up with halfway decent concoctions that, to Wednesday’s forever dismay, did not result in a missing limb, while two students had burned their eyebrows and lashes off just last year while attempting to make a basic Hair Raising potion.
(Listening to Bianca Barclay, self-proclaimed Queen Bee and ‘brightest student’ at Hogwarts, scream bloody murder when she discovered her momentarily ruined face would always be one of Wednesday’s favorite memories.)
Professor Kinbott pointed to the four cauldrons standing behind her. One bubbled, one simmered, one emitted small bouts of yellow steam, and the other shinned grey.
“This year will be a little different. We will be making potions in class, yes, but we will also—”
The old wooden door creaked on its hinges.
“Aw, Mr. Thorpe. I believe class started a few minutes ago.” Professor Kinbott gently admonished, though it was more to keep up the appearance of being a strict professor than actually being cross.
“Sorry, Professor.” A deep voice said from behind Wednesday’s right shoulder. “My meeting with Head Mistress Weems went a bit over schedule.”
“Quite all right.” Kinbott replied, any tones of whatever annoyance she was faking already gone. She smiled brightly and gestured to the only open seat available in the classroom. “Please, take a seat. I was just going over this year’s term-long assignment.”
The chair next to Wednesday scrapped across the floor while a few students murmured their dissatisfaction with Kinbott’s announcement. A tall, lanky body sat next to her.
Wednesday stared pointedly ahead.
She would rather break all the bones in her left hand—something she had once thought about doing when there were too many fluffy white clouds in the sky and the birds were singing a little too brightly—than give Xavier Thorpe even a bit of recognition.
Xavier Thorpe.
The perfectly popular Gryffindor.
The perfectly popular Gryffindor who had just been named Head Boy.
The perfectly popular Gryffindor who had just been named Head Boy who purposely loved to push Wednesday’s buttons.
The perfectly popular Gryffindor who had just been named Head Boy who purposely loved to push Wednesday’s buttons by constantly trying to best her in every class.
The perfectly popular Gryffindor who had just been named Head Boy who purposely loved to push Wednesday’s buttons by constantly trying to best her in every class and who—
“—partners!”
The entire class groaned audibly as Professor Kinbott clapped her hands in delight at her perceived cleverness.
“What?” Wednesday whispered to herself. She had been so caught up in all the ways she detested Xavier Thorpe, she had missed the reason why the class was considering mutiny, something she would personally love to lead despite not knowing what they were revolting against.
“We are going to be brewing one of the potions behind Kinbott with a partner.”
Wednesday slowly turned her head to stare blankly at Xavier Thorpe. She refused to give him the satisfaction of a glare, not wanting him to think he had any effect whatsoever on her emotions when he most certainly did not.
(She hated him.)
“I work alone.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think that excuse is going to work for you this time, Addams.” Xavier pointed to each individual student. “There are eight of us; four perfect pairings.” He winked, his stupid green eyes shining at the knowledge Wednesday was not going to get her way and work by herself like she had managed to do for the majority of her academic career. “Do keep up. It won’t be any fun beating you this year if you aren’t at your best.”
Wednesday whipped her head around to look at the students in question.
Bianca was out. Wednesday couldn’t listen to her sweet voice for longer than a second before her ears felt like bleeding.
Yoko would be tolerable. She wasn’t the best potioneer (that was Wednesday, obviously) but she also wasn’t the worst.
Wednesday bit the inside of her cheek. Enid would have been the best choice, but the Hufflepuff, and the only person Wednesday would consider a friend if she believed in such notions—she did not—had decided not to take Advanced Potions.
Wednesday’s eyes zeroed in on Enid’s boyfriend Ajax. He was sitting two tables ahead of her. While Wednesday barely spoke to him, she knew him well enough through Enid. He was one of four people who did not shy away from looking Wednesday in the eye while speaking with her, the first of course being Enid, the second Tyler Galpin, and the third being—
Wednesday’s hand shot in the air.
“Yes, Ms. Addams?”
“I would request to partner with—”
“I’m sorry Ms. Addams but the partnerships have already been decided.”
Wednesday clutched her potions book tightly. It was her first sign of emotion. “They have?”
Kinbott nodded.
Wednesday wanted to pull her blonde hair out at the roots.
“You will partner with the person sitting next to you.”
Xavier chuckled. “Looks like it is you and me, Addams.” He tucked a strand of blonde hair that had come lose from its bun behind his ear. “Game, set, and match.”
Wednesday slammed her potions book against the table.
XXXXX
Wednesday marched out of the classroom as quickly as her short legs would allow. To be partnered with Xavier Thorpe was one thing, but to be given—
“When would be the best time for you to meet so we can start brewing Nokto Luna?”
Wednesday’s left eye twitched.
The bloody potion took six months to make.
“I have Head Boy duties Monday afternoon, rounds Wednesday night, and Quidditch practice Tuesday and Thursday afternoon until an hour before dinner.”
Of course. How could Wednesday forget perfectly popular Gryffindor Xavier Thorpe was the captain of Gryffindor’s quidditch team?
“It sounds like you are too busy to meet. I will do the assignment on my own and—”
“No chance, Addams. Professor Kinbott said we must do the assignment together otherwise we fail.”
Wednesday glowered at a group of second years as they laughed about something inane. What right did they have to be happy when everything in the world was utter shit?
“Fine.” Wednesday grit out. She stopped walking and looked up at the unnecessarily tall Xavier. “The potion must be stirred clockwise under the light of the full moon every five minutes for an hour and counterclockwise every ten minutes for an hour during the new moon. During the full moon we need to make sure the potion is at a full boil, while during the new moon—”
“The potion needs to be at a simmer. In between each moon cycle the potion must remain at a lukewarm temperature created from natural heat and not magic and be checked daily for color and consistency.” Xavier casually leaned against the wall. “Don’t forget I beat you in potions last year.”
“We were all very impressed.” Wednesday replied dryly.
Xavier smiled, a dimple appearing on each cheek. “Really?”
“No.”
Wednesday had in fact, not been impressed Xavier had beaten her, taking the loss as more of a commentary on her own personal intelligence than choosing to believe Xavier was, in fact, in some small way, smart.
(She had studied the potions books in her families well-stocked library all summer to be sure he never bested her again.)
“Have I never impressed you, Addams?”
“No.”
“Not once?”
“It is hard to be impressed with someone who possess no qualities I find admirable.”
A small bit of hurt passed over Xavier’s eyes before he quickly schooled his features. “Charming as ever.” He pushed himself off the wall and stuffed his hands into his robes pockets. His red Head Boy badge shinned brightly against the black material.
It hurt Wednesday’s eyes.
“The new moon rises on Friday. We can start the potion then.” Xavier resituated his school bag and began to walk towards Gryffindor tower.
Wednesday frowned when she realized Xavier hadn’t told her where exactly they would meet. She called after him, demanding to know where he planned to brew the potion.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Addams. I’ll find a way to let you know.”
XXXXX
Xavier’s ‘way of letting her know’ entailed him strolling up to the Slytherin tables in the dining hall the next morning, sitting next to her with a stupid smile on his face, and saying loud enough for the entire table to hear that he looked forward to their ‘date’ on Friday night. Xavier leaned towards her, whispering in her ear the room he had secured for their project. With a smile, he causally stood and walked towards his own table, winking at Wednesday before taking a sip of tea. It was enough to set the entire hall ablaze with speculation and Enid sprinting over to demand what was going on between herself and Xavier with a half-eaten piece of toast in one hand and a glass of orange juice splashing all over her robes in the other.
(She hated him.)
XXXXX
“I want a new partner.”
“And a good morning to you, Wednesday.” Professor Kinbott chirped, completely unaffected by Wednesday’s surly mood. She was sitting behind her desk in the potions room, going over her catalogue of stocked ingredients. “I hope today finds you well.”
“It does not.”
“Well, I suppose that is a good thing, since you are normally so… sullen.”
Wednesday resisted the urge to scoff. “I want a new partner.” She repeated.
“I’m afraid that is out of the question.” Kinbott turned the page of her book. “Oh dear, it appears I am getting low on gillyweed.”
“Why?”
“I suspect a group of fourth years stole my batch to go swimming in the Great Lake to try and find the mermaids. Though they deny it, I’m sure you recall their screams of hor—”
“I wasn’t asking about your lack of gillyweed.”
“There is nothing wrong with the partnerships.”
“There is everything wrong with the partnerships.”
Kinbott wrote a letter to the Herbology professor requesting more Mandrake tears. “You disliking someone is not a reason to change partners.” She attached the letter to an owl. “Besides, I happen to think you and Mr. Thorpe will prove to be the perfect pairing.”
“I work alone.”
It was true. Wednesday had always been by herself for partner assignments due to the odd number of students in her year. It was perfect; nobody wanted to partner with her, and she didn’t want to be partnered with any of them either. The only time the numbers allowed for a partnership was when Slytherin and Hufflepuff took classes together, hence her association with Enid. The energetic girl had been partnered with Wednesday on their first day of classes during their first year of Hogwarts. Wednesday had found Enid to be annoyingly bright and optimistic, everything Wednesday herself was not. She tried in vain to keep the girl from latching on to her like a leech, but Enid was incredibly persistent, and once she decided she liked Wednesday’s more morbid and negative nature there was nothing Wednesday could do to stop the girl from seeking her out on trips to Hogsmeade or as a study partner.
It had annoyed Wednesday in the beginning.
It didn’t annoy her anymore.
(She would never admit that to anyone.)
Kinbott sighed. “Wednesday, do you remember what I tell you every year at the start of the term?”
“To not hex unsuspecting first years because they are walking too slow.”
Kinbott narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t been doing that again, have you?”
“No.”
“I’m sure.” Kinbott hummed disbelievingly. “Wednesday, this is your last year at Hogwarts. Don’t you want to at least try something different or make a new friend? The only person you ever speak with is Enid. Mr. Thorpe is on par with your intelligence—
“—hardly—”
“—and is well liked among the students and faculty.”
“He thinks he is smarter than everyone.”
“So do you.”
Wednesday ground her teeth together, having no counterargument. “What if I refuse to work with him?”
“Then you and Mr. Thorpe fail the assignment.”
Wednesday mulled the possibility of purposefully sluffing the assignment to make Xavier fail.
“Before you decide to go through with what you are so obviously thinking about, may I remind you Ms. Barclay currently sits in the third highest spot for potions. If you fail, she will become number one, a spot above Mr. Thorpe and two spots above you.” Professor Kinbott crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side. She looked far too innocent for what she was about to say. “Third place doesn’t suit you, Wednesday. We both know there are some things you do care about despite all your arguments to the contrary. You get a twisted sort of amusement being first in your year. Therefore, I do believe it is in your best interest to complete the assignment, lest you concede your spot at the top to Ms. Barclay.”
Wednesday’s jaw ticked as her the woman seated before her transformed from a wide-eyed doe to a slippery snake.
“I don’t care about anything.”
“That is the second lie you have told me in so many minutes. I am not a trusting Hufflepuff.”
Wednesday forced her eyes to remain emotionless and not glare at her head of house.
The woman was correct.
Wednesday did like being at the top of her year.
It made students even more afraid of her when they dueled in DADA.
“Fine. I will do the assignment with Xavier.” Wednesday stood from her chair and picked up her school bag. A quick glance at the clock behind Kinbott informed her she would either need to run to Ancient Runes or risk being late.
Wednesday calmy walked to the door.
She didn’t care about being late.
Unless Xavier Thorpe was in the class.
Then she would be first.
XXXX
“You’re doing it wrong.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes you—” Wednesday held out her hand. “Give me the lacewing flies right now before you grind them into dust and we have to start over.”
“I am not ‘grinding them into dust’. I am pressing them into a fine powder, like the recipe calls for.”
“No, you are not.”
Wednesday made a dive for the mortar and pestle.
Xavier easily dodged her and held the instruments overhead.
Wednesday glowered. “I will refuse to look like a newborn hippogriff by jumping up to reach something that is so clearly out of my grasp thanks to your freakishly long arms.”
“Then I suppose you leave me no choice but to continue to turn these flies into powder. Unless…” Xavier dangled the mortar and pestle in front of Wednesday at a much more acceptable height.
Wednesday stared resolutely ahead. She would be damned if Xavier Thorpe of all people—
“Nice try, Addams.” Xavier laughed as he once more moved the instruments away from Wednesday’s reaching grasp.
“Fine.” Wednesday growled between clenched teeth. “But I am not helping you when the potion turns to black tar and you are forced to grind the lacewing flies properly.”
Xavier emptied the contents into the gently bubbling cauldron. Wednesday watched with horror as the potion turned a clear grey color, resembling the moonlight filtering through the window.
“Looks like I was correct.” Xavier announced triumphantly.
Wednesday didn’t dignify his statement with a response.
(She hated him.)
Once the rest of the ingredients had successfully been added to the potion, Wednesday cast a countdown spell to let them know when to stir the potion.
“I’ll go first to show you the proper technique. You tense your shoulders too much. It makes you look like an ogre and will ruin the potion. It needs a more delicate touch.”
Xavier snorted. “The last thing I would ever call you is delicate.”
“I can be, when the occasion calls for it.”
Wednesday looked up just in time to see Xavier’s eyes darken slightly. It happened so quickly before they turned back to their normal bright green she was left unsure if she had seen anything at all or it if was a simple trick of the light.
“How was your sum—”
“We don’t need to talk while we work.”
Xavier crossed his arms over his chest and smiled cockily.
(She hated his stupid dimples.)
“What’s wrong? Afraid you might come to like me?”
“Fuck. No.”
Xavier laughed.
It irked Wednesday to no end.
During their entire time at Hogwarts, Wednesday had treated Xavier the same way she treated all their peers with the exception of Enid and occasionally Ajax: with contempt. Much to her confusion and frustration, this only seemed to make Xavier want to spend more time with her. He was always there, choosing to sit next to her during classes they shared together instead of sitting with his own house, trying to in vain to strike up a conversation with her in the library when their paths crossed, and even sitting across from her on the train during their third year and quietly reading a book while Wednesday kept her gaze to the window.
(Wednesday pretended she hadn’t noticed him staring at her last year when Enid had managed to convince her to go to the Rave’N. It had made her insides do things that felt pleasant, something she did not like in the least. Wednesday much preferred the feeling of needing to throw up than way she felt when she saw Xavier in his white suit and bolo tie with his hair perfectly pulled back in his trademark bun.)
They finished the hour in silence. Xavier drew in a muggle notepad while Wednesday did something much more productive and worked on her DADA essay about Patronus casting.
“Here.” Xavier handed her a blank piece of parchment paper as they walked out the door. “I made this so we can share our daily check-in.” He took a quill in between his long fingers and wrote on his own parchment paper. “I charmed them to send messages back and forth. It will be much better than using our owls.”
After a few seconds, Wednesday’s own parchment glowed a bright golden. Xavier’s neat handwriting appeared.
Admit it, Addams. You are a little impressed.
Wednesday resisted the urge to use to her wand and set the parchment on fire.
It was a clever idea.
(She would never admit it.)
XXXXX
Wednesday stared impassively at the closet. She held her wand at the ready, not at all afraid of what the boggart would appear as when Professor Huston opened the door.
She was Wednesday Addams.
She feared nothing.
“Ready, Ms. Addams?”
Wednesday nodded curtly. The older woman released the door, her long black robes sweeping across the floor. She held her own wand at the ready, a useless gesture since Wednesday knew she would have no need of her professor’s assistance. There was nothing the creature could show her that would scare her, and if it did, she would cast her Patronus successfully and pass the exam.
Nothing happened.
Wednesday allowed herself one, barely there, smirk.
The creature had obviously—
Without warning, Wednesday’s lungs squeezed.
She dropped her wand as her hand clawed desperately at her throat. She commanded herself to breath, but her body would not listen to her. Her entire body seized from the pain of being unable to take in oxygen.
A pair of bright yellow shoes stood in front of her vision.
It was Enid.
(That wasn’t right. Enid wasn’t in DADA with her.)
“How interesting.”
Wednesday looked up through watery eyes to see Enid staring at her with the same detached expression Wednesday would see every morning when she looked at herself in the mirror.
Enid cocked her head to the side. “Is this what it feels like to not care about anything?”
“’lp…me…” Wednesday croaked.
“I don’t think I will.” Enid sat down in front of her. Her robes billowed, the sparkles she had added to the hem shinning around her. “It is rather fascinating watching someone die.” Her purple shadowed eyes narrowed. “Besides, you wouldn’t help me, would you?”
Spit fell from Wednesday’s mouth.
“No. I didn’t think so.”
Spots formed around Wednesday’s vision. She desperately reminded herself that none of this was real, that she could breathe if she wanted to, that all she needed to do was think of something happy and say the spell.
Wednesday crawled to her wand. She could barely see it. Clutching it with shaking fingers, she closed her eyes and thought of what made her happy.
Blood.
Cemeteries.
Righteous torture.
Wednesday raised her wand. “Ex… expecto…pa-patronum!”
Nothing happened.
Not even a wisp.
Wednesday collapsed against the cold floor. Her entire body convulsed in pain.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
A large silver specter darted in front of Wednesday’s spotty vision. It was a golden retriever. It leaned forward menacingly, a low growl deep in its throat. Enid shrieked as the dog lunged, her entire body floating back towards the safety of the closet.
Wednesday’s lungs expanded as she took a deep breath of beautiful air. She closed her eyes, her mind registering the small whine of the dog as it licked the tips of her fingers in distress before everything went black.
XXXXXX
Wednesday awoke shrouded in darkness. She was in the infirmary. Her cheeks burned as she remembered her failure and the events that had led her to it.
She was Wednesday Addams.
She feared nothing.
(A lie.)
A soft snore came from her right. She gently turned her head—her throat was raw and burned—to see Enid sleeping in the chair next to her. In her lap was a small bag of Wednesday’s favorite black licorice that would explode in your mouth if you did not chew it fast enough and a bouquet of dead black roses.
Enid awoke a few hours later. She fussed over Wednesday like a mother hen, fluffing her pillows and watching like a hawk as Wednesday dutifully swallowed her medicine.
For the first time in their seven years of knowing each other, Wednesday patiently accepted Enid’s worry. She shared her candy and listened to Enid tell her about what she had missed during her two-day slumber. Enid had come to visit her every spare moment she could find.
An unpleasant—it wasn’t that unpleasant—swelling formed in Wednesday’s chest.
If this was friendship, perhaps it wasn’t so bad.
(The flowers were from Enid. The candy was not.)
XXXXX
Nobody mentioned what happened between Wednesday and the boggart. She had thought the gossip mill would have a field day over her one weakness, but the halls were quiet, talking about anything but her failure.
XXXXX
“So…”
Wednesday clasped her hands in front of her.
“Are we going to sit here in silence again?”
Wednesday kept her mouth resolutely shut.
He was wearing muggle clothes this evening, a loose grey jumper and black joggers with white trainers. His perfectly perfect Head Boy badge had been left behind. Wednesday herself was dressed in a button-up black dress with a pressed white color, black stockings, and black shoes.
Xavier sighed. He transfigured a wooden desk chair into a plush red couch. He leaned against the arm rest and spread his long legs out atop the cushions. Instead of drawing, he retrieved his Arithmancy textbook from his bag and began to work on the problems they had been given in class.
Wednesday transfigured her own chair into a recliner.
Xavier snorted. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He asked, referencing the Slytherin green color of her recliner.
Wednesday sat primly in her chair and took out her own Arithmancy homework. It was yet another advanced class she shared with Xavier.
The only sounds in the room were the scrawling of quill against parchment and the stirring of the potion every few minutes.
Wednesday frowned. She bit her bottom lip between her teeth as she scratched out yet another incorrect answer. The number chart equation was long and difficult.
“It’s your turn to stir.”
Wednesday stood. One quick glance at Xavier’s parchment revealed he had already solved the problem she was struggling with in addition to the two after.
Wednesday delicately stirred the potion one time counterclockwise.
“Out with it, Addams. I can hear you thinking from here.” Xavier casually turned the page of his textbook. He didn’t bother to look at her, his eyes hidden behind his fringe.
(His hair was down today.)
Wednesday went back to her chair. She looked at her schoolwork, Xavier—who was sitting a bit too smugly for her liking—and back again.
“You are going to make me ask, aren’t you?”
Xavier turned another page. “Oh absolutley.”
Wednesday glowered before quickly schooling her features lest Xavier see how he had affected her. “Will you help me with problem three?”
Xavier finally looked up. He smiled brightly, dimples on full display, and his green eyes sparkled. “I thought you would never ask.” He swung his legs from the sofa and patted the space next to him.
Xavier was a good teacher. He didn’t make her feel dumb for making what she thought was an obvious mistake and taught her as he corrected her. He was her intellectual equal and, though he loved to tease her, he remained focused as they studied. When the problem was finished, Wednesday made no move to leave his side. Instead, she continued to sit next to him and completed the rest of her homework, only this time, when she needed help, Xavier readily gave it without being asked. Sometimes he would ask her for help as well.
It was…
Nice.
Doing homework with Xavier was nice.
XXXXXX
The parchment glowed. Wednesday rolled onto her side and retrieved it from her nightstand.
Study partners?
Wednesday’s cheeks burned. At one point in the evening, Xavier had leaned against her shoulder, his warm breath fanning against her face as he check his work with her own. The close proximity had caused Wednesday’s heart to bloom in a way that reminded her of how she had felt when she gazed upon him at the Rave’N.
(She hated him.)
Yes.
XXXX
Wednesday watched the giant squid swim past the window of her Slytherin dormitory. It was Friday evening. She had spent the majority of her day with Enid. They sun was shining—something Wednesday detested—and the girls had laid under the shade of a tree playing exploding snap. Enid had separated from her after dinner to spend time with Ajax, and Wednesday, craving isolation and quiet, had spent the entirety of the evening reading in her room.
The parchment glowed golden, breaking Wednesday from her thoughts on if the fourth years who had stolen the gillyweed had been successful in their hunt for mermaids.
The potion misses you.
Wednesday huffed at Xavier’s exceptional drawing of the potion, the liquid inside the cauldron simmering and emitting small wisps of steam that floated off the parchment.
Impossible. Potions don’t have feelings.
Are you sure? The grey coloring looks a little dour tonight.
You’re imaging things.
Perhaps.
Figuring their conversation over, Wednesday set the parchment to the side. She was surprised when it glowed again a moment later.
Are you coming to the match tomorrow?
Hogwarts had been in session for a little over a month and it was time for the first game of the quidditch season. Of course, it was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. The rivalry between the two houses, antiquated and played out in Wednesday’s opinion, never failed to get students and faculty excited.
Tyler Galpin, fellow seventh year Slytherin and Captain of their house team had asked her the very same question as he sat next to her during dinner. Wednesday had scoffed in response. She would never understand why her fellow classmates assumed she would not attend quidditch matches when blood, broken bones, and death were on the line in a socially acceptable atmosphere.
(Truth be told, Wednesday wasn’t so sure she wanted to experience watching someone die anymore, not after what happened with the boggart.)
Yes.
Wednesday bit her bottom lip. She hesitated for a moment before deciding to add,
Go Slytherin.
You wound me, Addams.
Perhaps that was my plan.
A deep frown formed between Wednesday’s brows when she realized what she was doing. If Enid had been there, she would have been screaming, jumping up and down and smiling like a lunatic that Wednesday Adams was doing something so human as flirting.
(She would never tell Enid.)
XXXXXX
Gryffindor won the match.
Xavier had managed to catch the snitch in a neck-and-neck dive with Tyler. Wednesday had feared—no, hoped, she had hoped—Xavier would crash when the snitch was spotted a mere foot above the pitch, but the athletic Gryffindor had managed to catch the snitch and pull up in one swoop.
The Gryffindor team had practically thrown themselves on top of him before two beaters picked him up and displayed him to the crowd.
Wednesday’s heart stuttered minutely when Xavier’s eyes found her own. She forced her face to remain impassive as Xavier mouthed a singular word to her.
Impressed?
Wednesday shook her head.
No.
XXXX
Wednesday carefully added the Ashwinder eggs to the potion one at a time, being sure to gently stir so they melted in the potion instead of breaking. The potion had been brewing for nine days and she would throw all of Kinbott’s freshly delivered gillywood into the lake for the mermaids to choke and die on if it burned now.
She risked a quick glance at Xavier’s potion. It had begun to steam. He breathed in the smell and smiled softly.
Amortentia.
Wednesday had audibly scoffed while all the other girls giggled like a bunch of bloody twats when Kinbott had told them they would brew the love potion.
“Don’t forget to write down what you smell.” Professor Kinbott stared directly at Wednesday. “If you do not, it will result in an automatic failure, regardless of your potion quality.”
Wednesday stared daggers at Kinbott’s blonde head as she turned around to assess Yoko’s potion.
“Done already?” She asked Xavier. He was packing up his supplies.
“Don’t be jealous, Addams.”
“I would never.”
Xavier laughed. He folded his parchment into an origami bird and enchanted the piece of art to fly to Kinbott’s desk.
“I’ll see you tonight in the library. Best of luck.”
Wednesday ignored the heat blooming in her cheeks. “I don’t need luck.”
“Whatever you say.”
Xavier left with Ajax.
Wednesday glared at the perfect whisps of steam coming from her potion.
All she had to do what bend over and—
No.
She wouldn’t.
Her mother and father loved each other deeply.
It made Wednesday nauseous.
Wednesday would not, under any circumstance—
“What a lovely potion, Bianca! I have never seen Amortentia brewed so perfectly.”
Wednesday leaned forward and sniffed.
She smelled freshly cut grass.
Paints.
And ice.
XXXXXX
Wednesday did not bother analyzing the scents she had smelled. She refused to be like her parents, most especially her mother.
Morticia Addams was everything Wednesday was not and would not be: pretty, adored, and a doting housewife who flitted about the manor doing whatever inane project tickled her fancy while doting on her children endlessly and dancing around the house with her husband after dinner.
Wednesday blamed love for the last one.
While it was true her mother seemed sickeningly happy, Wednesday often wondered if her mother had wanted that kind of life at all, or if she had been so blinded by love for Gomez Addams she had entered into a life that would have made Wednesday rip all of her fingernails out one by one.
Morticia had told her once she was happy because of love, and she chose not to work outside of the home because she wanted to raise her children on her own as opposed to having a nanny. That kind of life was fine for those who wanted it, but Morticia did not. Wednesday had suspected she was lying both to herself and her child and thus scoffed at her declarations.
No, Wednesday would never allow herself to feel anything for anyone ever.
(She would never be her mother.)
XXXX
“Can you cast a Patronus?”
Xavier choked on the water he was drinking. “What the hell, Addams?! You can’t just go around asking people things like that.”
Wednesday tilted her head to the side. “Why not?”
“Because it is personal.”
“How?”
“Because you are basically asking a person if they have ever been happy. If they can’t cast a Patronus they are unwittingly admitting they don’t possess a happy enough memory, implying they themselves, are, well…” Xavier winced.
“I can’t cast a Patronus.”
“Yeah. I know.” Xavier mumbled. The air around them became a bit awkward as he cast a drying spell on his clothes—he wore a hoodie with some sort of jersey over it for a some muggle team that liked fire along with tight fitted pants—and the only sound in the room came from the bubbling potion. “We take DADA together, remember?”
“It is impossible for me to forget when you insist on partnering with me in that class as well.”
“I’m not going to become the best duelist in the school unless I duel the best. What’s wrong? Afraid of a little competition?”
“I will let you know when I face actual competition.”
Xavier smirked. “I believe I beat you last week.”
Wednesday frowned. “You cheated.”
“I did not.”
“Liar.”
“It isn’t cheating to cast a nonverbal spell.”
“It is when you haven’t informed your opponent you are capable of doing such.”
“Do you think a wizard or witch you are dueling in real life is going to give you the luxury of letting you know what they are capable of beforehand?”
“This isn’t real life; it is a class simulation. It is different.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“Yes. It is.”
“No, it—
“I want you to teach me how to cast a Patronus.”
This time Xavier dropped his entire water bottle. The muggle contraption rolled along the tiled floor, spilling water everywhere.
“Did I ask something unacceptable again?”
“No.” Xavier cast yet another drying spell, this time on the floor. “It’s just… well…” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m a little shocked you feel like you can discuss your memories with me.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” Wednesday said with a scoff. She was certain her times spent in cemeteries imaging the gruesome ways people had died, studying blood splatters from possible murder scenes—Uncle Fester worked as an auror and often let her look over his files, much to her joy—and what ancient wizarding torture devices she would use on her greatest enemies would produce the necessary feelings.
Xavier stared at her doubtfully.
“The scene the boggart created caught me off guard.” Wednesday argued, pushing aside the memory of her lungs burning while Enid passively stared at her. “I am certain I will produce the feelings necessary to cast a Patronus during the retest. To make sure nothing goes wrong, I would like to practice the wand movements with someone who already possess the ability to create one.”
“Okay…” Xavier said slowly. He looked at his bag and then back to Wednesday. He looked slightly conflicted before sighing gently. He picked up his wand. “To start—”
“Do you not want to help me? If not, I can ask Enid for assistance.”
Xavier bit his bottom lip. “Honestly, it’s a little stupid, but the Flames are playing right now and I never get to watch the broadcast live so I was planning on watching it while we took care of the potion and was going to ask if you wanted to watch it with me because I have feeling you would really like hockey but I can always—”
“What is hoo-ckey?”
Xavier chuckled at Wednesday’s mispronunciation.
(She liked the sound.)
“It is a muggle game that is kind of like quidditch. You play on ice skates instead of flying on a broom and there isn’t a snitch to catch. It is super popular in North America and parts of Europe. I became a fan when I lived in Canada for two years with my dad while was writing his latest novel. Nan would take me to see the Flames all the time.”
Xavier explained the basics of the game and who the Flames were. Wednesday stared at him doubtfully during his entire monologue. None of what he had described sounded entertaining, especially when she learned there were no actual flames involved.
“Oh, and there are fights.” Xavier added a little too nonchalantly, knowing full well how much Wednesday loved watching quidditch due to the violence. “Lots and lots of fights.”
“Blood?”
“People have been known to break a nose or lose a tooth on occasion.”
Wednesday marched to the couch Xavier had transfigured. She sat down on the nauseatingly red cushions and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Xavier expectantly.
“Well?”
Xavier beamed. He took a medium-sized, rectangular contraption out of his bag.
“Is that a telly?”
“Laptop.” He answered in that way of his that never made Wednesday feel dumb for not knowing something. “Normally technology doesn’t get along with Hogwarts, but I was bored during Christmas holiday once and figured out the trick.” Xavier tapped his wand against the laptop and said a series of spells. The screen blinked to life. “The wi-fi situation was tricky since we aren’t exactly sitting on a hotspot but—” Xavier stopped talking once he realized he had lost Wednesday with all his muggle words. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. All you need to know is you should be very impressed with me.”
“I’m not.”
(She was.)
XXXXX
Hockey was incredible.
Players were constantly hitting each other and there had been two fights, one of which resulted in all the players punching each other. Two had skated off the ice with blood covering their faces. Xavier had indulged her love for violence and went to a place called YouTube once the game was over. They spent an hour watching videos that declared “Top Ten Hockey Fights of All Time”, their work on the potion long finished.
At some point, Wednesday had been unable to keep her eyes open, exhaustion over taking her. She had awoken some hours later. A blanket had been laid on top of her and her head was resting on a now-sleeping Xavier’s shoulder.
It was…
Nice.
Spending the evening with Xavier watching a muggle sport had been nice.
XXXXX
Xavier helped Wednesday with her wand work during the next two study sessions. She was holding her wand too tightly and thus her movements were too jerky. The Patronus was about happiness, and the spell castor needed a light and loving grip on their wand to create harmonious movements.
It was ridiculous.
After ten minutes of Wednesday being unable to make the proper motions, Xavier had come to stand behind her. Guiding her hand with his own, he showed Wednesday how to move her wand successfully.
Wednesday ignored the pressure of her heart beating against her ribcage as Xavier’s front pressed against her back. She felt his chest expand with every inhale of breath. His body was lean and muscular thanks to quidditch and the hockey he played during the summer, something Wednesday had learned about him during their time watching the game.
He had offered to teach her how to ice skate.
She had said no.
(She hated him.)
…
(Didn’t she?)
XXXXXX
Thunder rattled the tall windows of the library and thick sheets of rain fell from the cloudy sky.
It was morbid.
(It was lovely.)
Wednesday quietly worked on her questionnaire for Nokot Luna. As part of their assignment, each student was required to write an update on their potion to be turned in the first Monday of the month. Much to her annoyance, she and Xavier had one of the longer potions to make—she suspected Kinbott had done this on purpose to spite her—which meant Wednesday would have to answer the questionnaire a total of six times.
The questions were pointless and frivolous and Wednesday hated every second of it.
Is your potion currently brewing?
-Obviously
How long has your potion been brewing for?
-This is my third time answering these idiotic questions
Is your potion the desired consistency, color, smell, etc.?
-I’m not a bloody imbecile
Are you working with your partner?
-Unfortunately Yes
How are you working with your partner?
Wednesday peeked at Xavier over her lashes. He was sitting across from her, twirling his muggle pencil that he often favored over a quill between his long fingers and stopping occasionally to underline something of importance in Advanced Transfiguration. A bag of opened candy was hidden carefully underneath his discarded hoodie. Wednesday watched as he stealthily popped a green colored candy in his mouth.
His hair was half up and half down today.
“You have to ask, Addams.” Xavier said with a smirk.
Wednesday huffed.
“Are you truly going to make me ask every time I want something from you?”
Xavier looked up from his book. His green eyes pierced her brown ones so intensely that Wednesday found she could not look away even if she wanted to. She licked her lips, Xavier’s gaze following the movement. He swallowed. Wednesday watched his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down.
“Yes.”
Wednesday forced her hands to not shake to the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat.
“May I have one?”
Xavier reached into the box and placed a small, red candy in her hand. It resembled a raspberry.
Wednesday’s pulse increased as Xavier’s fingers cautiously brushed her own.
For a moment, she felt like she couldn’t breathe, but it wasn’t like the time with the boggart. It was different. She didn’t feel dead.
No.
Wednesday felt alive.
She—
“Hello, Wednesday.”
Wednesday quickly fisted her hand around the candy as Tyler Galpin, perched himself on the desk, effectively putting himself between her and Xavier.
“Tyler.”
Xavier all but growled as Tyler ignored him.
The two boys despised each other.
“The Rave’N is at the end of the month.”
“Yes.”
“Would you like to—”
“Can’t you see we are studying, asshole? Get the fuck off the desk so we can finish our homework.”
“Or what?” Tyler mocked, his attention never leaving Wednesday. He winked.
It felt wrong.
Tyler had been kind once, during their first three years at Hogwarts, but he had come back for fourth year a completely different version of himself. He was cruel and cutting, something Wednesday had admired at first since it was so like herself, until she realized Tyler acted that way to purposely hurt others, while she was simply incapable of feeling things towards other people.
(She would never admit to anyone what she had just felt as Xavier handed her the candy.)
“Ask me your question and leave. You are distracting me.” Wednesday said calmly despite the tension between the two boys being so thick it could be cut with a knife.
“I would like to take you to the Rave’N.”
Wednesday blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
In her entire time at Hogwarts, no boy or girl had ever asked her to the Rave’N, excluding last year when Enid had begged her to be her last-minute date when Ajax unexpectedly came down with a horrid case of dragon pox.
Without her permission, Wednesday’s eyes flashed towards the boy hidden behind Tyler’s broad shoulders.
Tyler frowned, a knowing look passing his face that Wednesday did not understand. The ends of her braids floated slightly as he cast a powerful silencing spell around them.
“He’s going with Bianca.”
Wednesday felt like someone had stabbed her in the heart.
It was not as pleasant as she once thought it would be.
“People like us are a joke to him, Wednesday. He is playing with you like he always has been.”
An unfamiliar wetness pooled behind her eyes.
“People like us?”
“Freaks.”
Wednesday forced herself to not recoil due to Tyler’s frank tone. She had called herself a freak many times. She had worn the title proudly, in fact, so why...
…so why did it hurt so much to hear it now?
“Come with me to the dance.”
“I can’t.”
“Why? Because of him?”
“No.”
“Then—”
“I don’t want to go with you. I don’t want to go at all.”
Tyler’s jaw ticked at the slight. He said nothing, releasing the spell and leaving without a goodbye.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing.” Wednesday quickly packed up her books and parchment. The wetness behind her eyes was getting stronger. “I’m leaving.”
Wednesday walked out of the library as quickly as she could. Heavy footsteps signaled Xavier was right behind her. He gently grabbed her elbow.
“Addams—”
“Don’t speak to me again. When we meet for the potion, you are to remain silent. Do you understand?”
Xavier crossed his arms over his broad chest. “No, I don’t understand. What the fuck happened? Are you going—”
“No. I’m not going. I don’t want to go. It’s a new moon that night. I will take care of the potion. Have fun fucking Bianca.”
Xavier blanched. “What—”
“Goodnight.”
Wednesday turned on her heel and left a shocked Xavier behind. She didn’t need to hear what he had to say because it didn’t matter.
(She hated him.)
XXXXXX
I didn’t want to take Bianca to the Rave’N. She suggested it since we have to do the opening dance together as Head Boy and Head Girl. I agreed since it was the easiest option.
Will you talk to me, please?
Please?
XXXXX
The music from Rave’N echoed against the classroom walls.
Wednesday cast a silencing charm and then a locking charm food good measure.
She walked to the potion and checked the temperature. It was perfect, as she knew it would be. They may not be speaking to each other, but Xavier was sure to keep her appraised of what was going on through the parchment when it was his turn to check on the potion. The only difference was now he kept his messages to just the potion and nothing else.
Wednesday never wrote anything beyond ‘everything is fine’.
It didn’t escape her notice how, while her statement was true in regards to the potion, it was a lie in regards to the two of them.
Wednesday swished her wand and set the timer. She gave the potion one perfect clockwise stir and sat down.
It was going to be a long hour.
XXXXXX
“Umph!”
Wednesday clutched her wrist in pain. The hour finished, she had set the potion to the desired temperature and turned out the lights before opening the door. Eyes ahead, she had missed the person sitting against the wall, his stupidly long legs resting in front of the door.
“Are you okay?”
Wednesday pulled her arm away from Xavier as he tried to assess her for injuries. She would never let him touch her again.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at the dance?”
“She speaks.”
Wednesday rolled her eyes at Xavier’s lame attempt at humor. “Don’t worry. I didn’t ruin the potion if you are here to check on me. I don’t need a babysitter.”
Xavier ran his hands through his hair. “That isn’t why I am here at all.” He took a deep, steadying breath, as if he was trying to summon some annoying Gryffindor courage everyone was always raving about. “I had a plan, okay? I knew it was the new moon as soon as Weems announced the date for the Rave’N. As Head Boy, I am expected to go with a date. I knew the girl I wanted to go with would never say yes, so I planned to ask her to something else instead. See, I didn’t care what I did with her, so long as I was with her. I still had to go, however, and when Bianca asked me, I agreed on the condition I could leave after we opened the dance.”
“Why are you here, then? Shouldn’t you be with the girl you are talking about?”
“I am here with her.” Xavier stared at her, his green eyes wide and luminous. He smiled timidly. “It’s you. I wanted to be with you. It has always been you, Wednesday.”
Wednesday quietly gasped.
It was the first time Xavier had ever said her given name.
It sounded beautiful.
“I hate you.”
Xavier sighed, his shoulders slumping. He looked exhausted. “I know.” He turned, picking up his backpack. It was then Wednesday noticed his rumpled hoodie and joggers, his hair falling out of its bun.
“How long?”
“First year.” He whispered, more to himself than to her though it was her question he was answering.
Wednesday’s eyes widened. There was a lot to unpack in those two words, but to unpack them now…
She needed to focus.
“No, I mean…” She gestured to the wall. “How long have you been waiting?”
“I left as soon as the first dance was over. I went to my dorm to change and grabbed my laptop. I had hoped—well, that is I…” Xavier shrugged. He was unable to look at Wednesday and instead focused on his shoes. “The original plan was to ask you to do a marathon night with me. There is a show I always watch on the telly during this time of year and I really think you would like it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was dumb.”
A strange warmth spread through Wednesday’s chest.
(It wasn’t dumb.)
“What is a ‘shoooow’?” Wednesday pronounced the foreign word slowly.
Xavier laughed softly. “It’s kind of like a play, but you watch it on the telly instead of being there in person.”
“You mean a television program?”
Xavier nodded. He looked down the hall towards the direction of the Rave’N. The music echoed off the castle hallways. “Like I said, it was a dumb idea. This whole thing was a dumb idea. I should never have hoped that for one second you might, well…”
Xavier started walking towards the sounds of the music.
Towards Gryffindor tower.
And away from her.
“I’ll see you next week. Cheers.”
Wednesday shook her head.
This was wrong.
All of it.
“I hate you!”
Xavier stopped walking, his entire body tense. “Yes, I know. You have already made that clear.” He replied in clipped tones.
“No, I haven’t.” Wednesday marched to where Xavier was standing. She didn’t stop until she was positioned right in front of him. “Look at me.” Wednesday commanded. Xavier silently refused and continued to look over her head, an easy task considering Wednesday barely came to an inch below his shoulder. “Xavier Thorpe. Look at me right now.”
Xavier glared at her.
“You…” Wednesday squared her shoulders and forced her heart to stop racing within her chest. Xavier had been honest with her, and she would be damned if he bested her yet again. “You make me feel things. I never feel things, ever. When I am with you my hands shake and my heart beats and my stomach flutters and I feel… I feel…” Wednesday placed her hand over her heart. “I feel. For the first time in my life, I feel, and it scares me. Emotions and feelings are messy and I have never wanted them. I thought I could ignore what was happening to me. I can’t. I…” Wednesday raised her other hand. Slowly, so slowly it was almost painful, Wednesday touched Xavier’s chest, right above his heart. “I want to feel with you.”
A slow smile appeared on Xavier’s face. His green eyes gazed at her tenderly. He placed his large hand over her petite one. It was warm and his fingertips were slightly calloused. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” Wednesday said with a singular nod. “But I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“I’ll only disappoint you. I can’t change who I am.”
“Oh, Wednesday.” Xavier shook his head slowly. “I don’t want to change you. If I did, then I wouldn’t like you. I like how you are blunt, and honest, and morbid, and hate the sun, and never smile, and have all the students and some professors afraid of you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I do.”
Xavier let go of her hand. He wrapped one arm around his waist and placed the other behind her head. Gently, he pulled her towards him. She resituated her hand so that her ear now rested above his heart. She closed her eyes at the steady rhythm. Wednesday breathed deeply.
Xavier smelled of freshly cut grass.
Paints.
And ice.
It was…
Nice.
Being hugged by Xavier was nice.
XXXXX
They watched the show.
Xavier had been correct; Wednesday had loved it. The psychic girl, the sarcastic sheriff, the Upside Down…
It had been dark and morbid and scary and perfect.
Wednesday had forced herself to remain calm and not immediately demand Xavier start the next season, once he explained what seasons were.
As they walked towards the dungeons, Xavier had cautiously brushed his fingertips against hers. To his surprise and delight, Wednesday had immediately linked their fingers together and held his hand firmly the rest of the way.
It was hard to let go.