#hufflepuff!elain

[thefangirlofhp]

3. wearing each other’s clothes

“Are-you-kidding-me?!”

Each syllable was punctuated with a feather-pillow thump of frustration landing right over the sleeping boy buried in the folds of comfortable bedding and the dormitory mattress that Elain has discovered to be disturbingly personalized and ultimate. One of the things she’s trying to make her peace with is the uniqueness of the Ravenclaw Tower, with its frustratingly snobby doorknob and its gorgeous Common Room. Nuala did not think twice about immediately pointing Elain towards the boys dormitory, having long-since given up on the idea of getting said boy up for classes.

“Okay! Okay! Okay! Stop it, I’m up!” Azriel shouts, his hand shooting out to fend off the pillow Elain clutches tightly in her hands. She gives his head another smack for good measure, watches his jet-black hair flop with the assault and stand all over.

“How are you still asleep?!” she shouts back, his dorm room empty but for him as his classmates are already downstairs halfway through their breakfast. “You’ve got a test in fifteen minutes and you were asleep before dinner last night!”

A muffled grunt escapes her friend, who drags his blanket over his head.

“Oh no you don’t!” Elain yanks off the bedding, who has much experience getting stubborn sleep-loving people out of beds (if anyone could get Nesta up in the morning, she was such person) much to his chagrin. “I don’t believe this. Get your arse up this instant, Azriel Shadowsinger!”

He groans, curling into himself and then when it does nothing, he gives a frustrated shout.

“Who made you a clock?” he mutters, sitting up in bed, fixing her with a wild-eyed gaze and a puffy face.

“Merlin but you’re impossible, so you are,” she replies, grasping her hips. “Get moving into that bathroom before I give you a shower right here and now with ice-cold water.”

He blinks impassively at her. “You don’t know how to do that yet.”

Elain grits her teeth, her knuckles whitening over her hips. “Try me and I’ll get really motivated to learn. You’ve got five minutes to get dressed.”

To his credit, he does eventually get to his feet, not before shooting her a scathing glare, and when the bathroom door snaps shut behind him, it takes him all of a minute and a half to come back out with sharp-eyes and drenched black hair plastered to his head, water soaking the collar of his t-shirt.

“I can’t believe you’re that daft,” she remarks, shivering at the mere thought of the ice-cold water on her own head. Azriel shrugs, grabs a towel and rubs his head furiously. She prefers to wake an hour early to beat her dormmates to the hot water, to allow her hair adequate time to dry and her body to wake up of its own accord—shocking it into wakefulness is not something she’s ever considered doing. “I brought you toast.”

“Thanks,” he mutters from the midst of his self-inflicted tornado. “Can you put my stuff in the bag?”

“Sure,” she turns her back while he tugs on dry clothes and his shoddy uniform, crosses over to his sidetable overflowing with books and parchment scrolls that the house-elves of the school have long since learned not to touch—in a way, it is the picture-perfect image of a Ravenclaw student, who are renown amongst the wizarding world for being brainy twits obsessed with books and smartness. After befriending a few Ravenclaws, Elain’s realized that though each individual is a bizarre unique phenomenon, they’re all obsessive idiots hyper-fixated on a matter of their interest and without the common sense to be found in a hen. Still, not people Elain would ever want to be on the bad side of. They’re the sort of people who will go far in life, and it’s nice to have friends in such places.

Where Azriel will end up, though, is a question up for grabs. No-one can fathom if it’s a cold cell in Azkaban or as Minister for Magic; both are entirely probable. Wherever he ends up, Elain is sure it will be something worth witnessing. For now, if he isn’t downstairs in ten minutes, he’s going to end up doing remedial Transfiguration over the winter break and Elain cannot have her personal encyclopedia fall back.

Oh, but the books are a depressing sight to bear, for students meant to be having their noses buried in their textbooks and relevant sources. Elain’s eye twitches as she beholds a worn down hardcover first-edition of Bodies of Water and The Wowza Discoveries That Wizards Uncovered In Their Murky Depths that was likely never scheduled for a re-print. A brief glance at the list of students who’d ever checked the book out of the school library confirms Elain’s hypothesis that no-one would ever read it. Everyone except Azriel who has found it to be a riveting read, it seems. What with the pages full of notes.

She sighs. Stacks the non-textbooks up and puts quills and ink-bottles in his schoolbag, hunts around for his actual school textbooks and oh, of course, finds them discarded under his bed. His Charms book has actual dust on it.

And the fucker somehow was a top-scoring student.

“Look, I know you’re a gifted brilliant genius and all—”

“They mean the same,” he mutters under his breath and she has to count to five before going on.

“—but you really need to start paying attention to your studies,” she buttons the flap on the bag, brushes off a leaf stuck to the material and turns round. “Natural intelligence will get you far in life, but in school it’s not about cleverness. It’s about figuring out the patterns, the high-yield information and being smart enough to know what to memorize for exams. I know you don’t care for them, but they do determine your future, Az.”

His wide hazel eyes blink back owlishly at her, black hair ruffled wild atop his head and his scarred fingers making a sorry knot of his blue and bronze tie. “Yeah,” he replies quickly. “I know.”

“Wowza Discoveries, Az?” she softly recounts. “Really?”

“I’ll have you know it’s a riveting read,” he points firmly at her. “You can’t judge books by their covers—or titles.”

“I just think it says more about the person picking up a book with ‘wowza’ in the title than the actual book itself,” she replies.

“Whatever,” he scoffs, holding out his hand into which she dumps the bag by the strap and he shrugs onto his shoulder. “How’d you get in here anyway?”

“My feet,” she replies smartly, following him out the dormitory.

“Funny,” he snorts. “Got past the doorknob did you?”

“Excuse me, I take offense!” she yelps, crossing the expanse of the Common Room. “People outside your stupid house do have brains, you know?”

He shoots her a sharp meaningful look as he pushes . “I’m just saying, the doorknob’s existential crises lasted for weeks after your little stint about evolution and accusing it of being outdated and irrelevant.”

“I just meant the riddles it asks are stupid,” she mutters. “‘What comes first, the chicken or the egg?’ my arse. The egg actually did. The egg was a bird that evolved into a chicken. And I just as much hate that ‘a circle has no beginning’ line. Stupid doorknob.”

“You nearly made it gain consciousness,” Azriel laughs. “Professor Silver had to reset the charm on the thing which no one ever had to do since the school was made.”

Elain busies herself with brushing her hair behind her ears and adjusting her bag over her shoulder.

“Thanks for waking me up, by the way,” Azriel pipes up as they descend the staircase of the third floor. “I probably would have gotten up in time, but thanks still.”

“You really wouldn’t have,” Elain snipes back.

He grins. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have.”

“Don’t you—don’t you actually care about putting in an effort?” she pries hesitantly, finding their academic gap tricky waters to navigate without sounding like a jealous sourpuss. She does get frustrated by their difference, sure, that the three hours of effort she’d put in studying for a test he needs only quarter an hour of mild reading. Or that while she is pacing the length of the courtyard in breaks trying to get her mind to remember different potions ingredients, Azriel is napping somewhere or practicing Quidditch with his team and still he ends up as one of the top five in their year. Elain is entirely convinced he’d have come out first last year, fourth year, if he hadn’t forgotten about the five whole units they were told to revise in History of Magic and still his freakish memory had saved the day and if word is to be believed then the couple of points he lost were because the arse fell asleep in the exam and missed a word in the question.

But she’s more curious, and infatuated with this secret method of his.

“Sure, I do,” he replies. “I just soak in a lot of information, most of it not academically related, granted. But I can’t help that my attention constantly drifts. I just let my mind take me where it takes me.”

“Fascinating,” she nods, skipping the last two steps and landing with a heavy thud on her soles.

“You mean to tell me you can tell your mind to just focus on something and it does?” he demands. “Merlin’s balls, it’s like wrestling with an angry bull up here,” he taps his temple. “What’d I give to have the mindpower for that.”

“Some people would give their firstborn for your mind,” she reminds him.

“Oh, but how the other half lives.”

“Twat,” she laughs, rounding a corner that brings them to the Great Hall. A violent autumn breeze sharply whips into the corridor through the front doors, one that makes her own bones shiver and forces her to bend her knees to stay in place. Azriel squeezes a stabling hand over her shoulder, squinting his eyes against the beating wind, damp hair whipping back in the current.

“You’re going to die from a cold,” she decrees as the breeze dies down, what with the idiot not wearing neither a sweater nor a scarf.

“‘m fine, come on,” he tugs her towards the grand staircase that would take them to their first class of the day and their aforementioned test. Elain digs her heels into the ground, at which he huffs and stops as well.

“Here,” she unwinds her neatly wrapped scarf from around her neck and slings it around his own considerably longer one. “You can’t be an idiot in Ravenclaw. It doesn’t look good for your house.”

“If I keep it on will you drop it?” He asks from behind the knit yellow and black wool.

“Yes.”

“Fine,” he mutters, tugging it away from his skin but nonetheless slinging the longer tail over his shoulder. “I’ve a test to flunk.”

“Liar,” she chirps back, following him towards the classroom.

And sure enough, the next day when their marked tests were handed back and Elain twisted in her seat upfront to catch Azriel’s eyes from the back of the classroom, he held up an unfolded scroll with an almost annoyed red A+ scribbled in the corner and mouthed I was wrong at her. She rolls her eyes for good measure, but turns back to her own scroll and the exhilarating A marking it.

Sure, cleverness gets one far but so does hardwork and effort.

#reader: this won't happen to be another hogwarts au elriel would it? #me: :)) #reader: would IT?!!! #:)))) #sorry lads this au has taken over my conscious and honestly how can one have fall without the harry potter universe????? #this is just how my brain is wired #elriel fic #azriel #acotar fic #elain archeron #hufflepuff!elain #ravenclaw!azriel #hogwarts!au #it is LTIERALLY in my name #honestly the thought of those two cooking on a very slow burner since they were in school and kicking it off in adulthood? I am in shambles #yeah expect more of this au #listen it's a fully flushed fic in my mind but it's gonna take some metnal effort from me to do so #therefore I will be presenting fluffy snippets #:D #flufftober23 #flufftober 2023 #wearing each other's clothes

[casuallivi]

“I’ll probably die before figuring out why you always keep me company,” he pipes up, crossing his arms as he stops before her. She glances up before sighing and shuffling aside as gracefully as she can on the bean bag. Azriel joins her with a sigh that also wheezes out of the bean bag.

“To look after your idiot self, why else,” she pulls out a folded blanket from her bag, earning his raised brows as she unfolds it and spreads it across their laps. “You’d freeze to death on your own.”

Little elriel/hp moodboard inspired by:

for years or for hours (my hand in yours) by @thefangirlofhp​

#elriel #elriel au #elain archeron #azriel #hogwarts!AU #hufflepuff!elain #ravenclaw!azriel #moodboard #for my lovely bestie fany <3 #who knew elriel/hp would be such a good combo! #in love with these two #acotar

[softpinkprincipessa]

Sorting Acotar characters into Hogwarts houses Part 2:

Azriel - intellect, wit, creativity

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #elain archeron #elriel #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #pro elain #pro elriel #beautiful #azriel acosf #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #elain and azriel #azriel acomaf #azriel acotar #harry potter #hogwarts #hogwarts houses #ravenclaw #hufflepuff #gryffindor #slytherin

[freepandahugs]

Well, hello. It’s been a while since i posted anything, so i bring a tiny sketch as a peace offering (?)

Hufflepuff Elain and her lovely (carnivorous?) plant 💛

it’s just a little doodle i did but i found it funny so i wanted to post it hahaha i hope you like it (?)

#elain archeron #acotar #elain is a hufflepuff #whoever says otherwise is WRONG #thinking about doing a matching azriel to go with her #kinda like hogwarts elriel

[clarxcomms]

Day 5: Alternate Universe

Elain and Lucien in the Harry Potter universe❤💛

Art made by the wonderful Ouhbela comms by me and Ella.

Elaine Hufflepuff is canon, and we all agree that our brave little fox is Gryffindor. And the patrons of the doe and the fox?! absolutely beautiful.

Link to Instagram post | Link to Twitter post

#elucien #elucienweek2022 #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien art #acotar fanart #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acotar art #art digital #book art #gwynriel #feysand #nessian #harry potter #gryffinpuff #gryffindor #hufflepuff

[separatist-apologist]

Would you ever write am HP Elucien au?

Fun story, I had like, 50k of one written last year. Tragically, I like to write smut and that was about where I abandoned it. The plot was so good, and probably impossible to replicate anywhere else so there it lives in my drafts.

@kingofsummer93 has a very good Elucien HP AU though!

#it was Hufflepuff Elain vs Slytherin Lucien untangling a mystery of the founders

[lily-chen-supremacy]

🌸 ELAIN ARCHERON + HUFFLEPUFF AESTHETIC 🌸

“it’s already ended badly. now it’s just a matter of deciding how to meet the consequences.”

#elain archeron #elriel #acotar #sjm #hufflepuff #aesthetic moodboards #elain archeron aesthetic #acotar aesthetics #hufflepuff aesthetic

[libellule-ao3]

List of birthdays of the different MCs of Hogwarts Legacy

🎉 Hi everyone! 🎂

Inspired by a similar post from @magomo, I thought it would be nice to compile all the birthdays of the MCs from the Hogwarts Legacy fandom.👉👈

This post could also be useful for planning an event, or something special to celebrate your favourite MCs on a significant date or simply to wish them a happy birthday!✨️

For this post to be consistent:

. Your character must be an MC in the game or an MC in one of your fanworks.

. Your character must fit into the timeline/canon of the game and not just live in the same era.

. Please provide the complete date of birth of the MC, their full name and surname, their house, either in a comment, reblog or message. 😊

. If for any reason you no longer want your MC to appear on this post, please let me know in the same way.

1873

December

26. Gerome Edelfelt @chrystabelleblaumferge

1874

January

29. Raven Fawlty @lilac-ravenclaw

February

March

Avril

May

June

July

19. Jean Vestrit @sallowslove

August

8. Elliot Vandermorgan @chrystabelleblaumferge

September

8. Lydia Parkinson @esolean

October

14. Avis ni Conraoi @ariparri

30. Evelyne Lavandin @libellule-ao3

November

5. Rohan Mac Uáid @ariparri

16. Cassandra Darque @cesqdarque

27. Raegan DesRosiers @hazyange1s

December

12. Io Gordon @drinkyoursoupbitch

1875

January

19. Elaine Hopkins @mrs-sharp

21. Inger Eve Nilsdott @ethniee

26. Aurélie Collins @morelikeravenbore

February

24. Anwen E. Elmstone. @serpensortiamaxima

March

21. Apolonia “Pola” Reytan @caramel-hufflepuff

April

22. Julia V. Wright @superconductivebean

28. Siobhan Sloane @sloanesallow

May

1 Calypso Salutations @dwightschrute11

16. Philip Brown @endeavour12345

27. Evelyn Caddel @celestial--sapphic

June

22. Bethany Pentaghast @chrystabelleblaumferge

July

5. Beatrice Hayes @moongurl95

18. Olive Raywood @ginger-lala

August

7. Flora Sinclair @caramel-hufflepuff

12. Maribelle Pentaghast @chrystabelleblaumferge

September

October

30. Eulalie Wilhelmina Hawthorne @witchyafterdark

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy oc #hphl #hphl oc #hogwarts legacy mc #hphl mc

[jeannineee]

sort the acotar characters into hogwarts houses

What Hogwarts Houses the ACOTAR Characters belong to…

a/n: this is a fun break from writing kinktober lolol. Also this is just my opinion, and for reference, I’m a Ravenclaw.

Gryffindor:

Cassian. I don’t think I need to elaborate on this.

Feyre. I also don’t think this needs to be elaborated on. Miss Cursebreaker is a Gryffindor. (W/ a hint of Hufflepuff)

Morrigan

Hufflepuff: (forgive me for the orange)

Elain. Her strength is in her softness.

Slytherin:

Amren. Pretty self-explanatory.

Nesta. But she gives off a little ravenclaw too.

Eris—this one shouldn’t be shocking

Ravenclaw:

Lucien!!

Rhysand I KNOW YOURE PROBABLY THINKING SLYTHERIN BUT LISTEN!! Rhysand does not like tradition, whereas Slytherin prides itself on it. Rhys has the intelligence, and the open-mindedness that is typical of Ravenclaws. Not to mention, Ravenclaws can be cunning like Slytherins.

Azriel. He’s the spymaster. Be so serious this man is a Ravenclaw.

I can elaborate on any of these if you guys want me to.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acosf #acowar #acofas #Feyre #rhysand #nesta #Cassian #amren #morrigan #Elain #Lucien #Eris

[belle-keys]

My Hogwarts House book recs

Okay, ever since some of my favorite booktubers made posts like these many a year ago, I always wanted to make a book rec list like this because I still genuinely do like the Hogwarts Houses. Enjoy!

Gryffindor

Graceling by Kristen Cashore - she walked so these new fantasy girlies could run, fantasy kingdom with assassin main character, the original ya high fantasy killer girlboss imo

A Game of Thrones by George RR Martin - all of the sympathetic leads are classic heroes (dany, jon, arya), adventure and politics and battle and dragons, nuanced outlooks on honor

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah - ww2 novel, deals with the french resistance during the occupation, hit every spot in my cold black heart, emphasis on sisterhood and endurance

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen - what is bravery if not a broke woman telling a rich man to get a grip, og strong female lead overcoming many challenges, criticisms of polite society

Hufflepuff

Crave by Tracy Wolff - big on found family, paranormal romance shenanigans in a boarding school, somewhat satire, unserious and just very wholesome, steeped in nostalgia uwu

All My Rage by Sabaa Tahir - unapologetically written to heal and explore trauma, cathartic, wholesome and pure relationships, emphasis on self-growth and overcoming abuse and pain

The Stationery Shop by Marjan Kamali - historical, about the value of relationships in war and hardship, themes of growth and acceptance and promises, beautiful story

The Foxhole Court by Nora Sakavic - what happens when you let a bunch of mentally ill kids play a made up sport, angsty but feels like a big hug, contemporary fiction, just genius ok

Ravenclaw

The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake - very slytherclaw, philosophy and physics as the basis, dark academia urban fantasy, character-driven, multiple POVs, morally grey academics

Babel by RF Kuang - this book has been likened to a history textbook, by a nerd girlie for the nerd girlies, linguistics and languages, super well-researched, condemns colonization

Disorientation by Elain Hsieh Chou - witty and sharp narration and dialogue, set in academia and deals with east asian literature, satire and black comedy, explores racial fetishization

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov - only a ravenclaw could appreciation its complexity, so many literary references, stylistically immaculate, lots of room to debate its message and themes

Slytherin

Vicious by VE Schwab - perfect moral quandaries demonstrated here, everyone is morally dark grey, supervillains, very angsty and also profound at times, dark academia

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde - my man makes a deal with the devil for eternal youth and beauty, everyone here is morally dubious, murder and orgies and philosophy

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn - exhausted woman does what she needs to do, female rage book, does some interesting things with pov, justified evil, amy dunne is insane and it's great

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao - tired chinese woman does what she needs to do and kills men, very unhinged queen behavior, ambition and god complexes, pacific rim but in china

#book recs #book recommendations #hogwarts houses #gryffindor #slytherin #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #the picture of dorian gray #asoiaf #all my rage #the foxhole court #the atlas six #babel an arcane history #iron widow #graceling #books and literature #book blog #ya books #dark academia #dark academia books #books #slytherclaw

[fieldofdaisiies]

𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝟕: 𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒚

Azris Hogwarts AU for @erisweek2023🧡 ~6k words

• ──────────────────── •

As the clock's hands show 11am the Hogwarts Express lurches forward with a jolt. The train's whistle is louder than the chatting of the pupils who haven't seen each other for over six weeks, finally reunited and trying to find places to sit down. 

And so, once again the journey begins, for some of the pupils for the first time, for some for the last time. 

Eris loads his hand luggage above him, rolls back his shoulders, smoothes out his white shirt and then claims his usual seat alongside his house mates. His long legs are stretched beneath the small table, crossed at the ankle. And thank Godrick, the mark he bears since this summer, his mark, is hidden beneath the sleeve of his shirt. It is nothing he is proud of, nothing he wanted, but he had no other choice. 

Slowly, Eris' attention returns to reality. His friend, Tamlin laughs loudly as Elain Archeron trips over his out-stretched foot. He is sneering at her, her disheveled demeanour, having fallen to the ground and landed on her bag. Plants and books about Herbology are scattered around her, pages torn, branches of the plants and flowers broken or twisted. 

The young Hufflepuff only bites down on her lower lip, tears rising in her eyes from the pain that erupts in her knees where she hit the ground. "Foul beetle," she grumbles through gritted teeth as she collects her things, and gets up. She hurdles away, quickly following after her older sister, Feyre who is already in the next compartment, not having noticed her falling. Tamlin is lucky, because if Feyre or Nesta had noticed what he had done they would have punched him right in the face.  

"Isn't the little Mudblood dating your bastard brother?" Dagdan asks. He snorts and points the end of his wand at Eris. 

The seventh year Slytherin flashes him a glower and shakes his head. "Don't mention that, or I will curse your stupid ass."

Deep inside his heart, Eris loves his little brother. But no one can know this, no one can know about their secret meetings where he warns Lucien about what is happening in the world, where he checks to make sure Lucien is alright. And Lucien…he can never know that he now bears…his mark. Koschei's. There are so many secrets now, secrets that weren't always there. Once, Eris used to be a happy, young boy, joyful about going to Hogwarts. This no longer is. Now he is serious, sad, torn and twisted. Scared. 

"Last year, huh?" "Fucking finally," Amren chuckles, claiming her seat next to Eris. He moves over a little, making room for the short, dark-haired witch. 

Dagdan snorts, but then is attention moves to Nesta Archeron passing them, chin held high and not deigning her housemates a single look. 

"Not sitting with us, beautiful?" Dagdan drawls.

Nesta turns her head a little, gives him a once over, her stare flat. "I would rather sleep in the Forbidden Forest or kiss the giant squid in the Great Lake than sit with you."

Just like every year, Nesta sits with her sisters, and their boyfriends and her boyfriend. Cassian is in Gryffindor and it took her a damn long time to allow herself to fall for him, but now she loves him more than anything. 

She does find two of her classmates alright — Eris an Amren— but the rest she can really do without and since she only tolerates the other two, she rather opts to sit with her family and friends. 

"Making out with the squid is probably not much different to making out with Dagdan, is it?" Eris comments, a sly smile on his lips, as his eyes trail over Nesta. 

That makes Tamlin laugh wickedly, but the slap he earns himself from Tamlin immediately shuts him up. 

Nesta is gone in the meantime, not paying anymore attention to them.

"Big mouth, Vanserra. You are the one who hasn't hooked up with anyone in ages."

"We had summer holidays, how would you know?" the oldest Vanserra brother shoots back, hoping his glower will edge onto the Cruciatus Curse. 

He is not in the mood to talk about anything related to love. Love is fucking awful, and annoys him. And in all the chaos, and whirlwind in his mind, definitely something that is not on top of his priority list. 

Tamlin only snorts and shakes his head, not finding the right words for a come back. 

Tired of the conversation, the Vanserra boy leans his head back after a moment, and closes his eyes. And then…Bloody hell!

Maybe love is higher up on his priority list than he thought. His thoughts immediately start to wander, going to…to the stupid Ravenclaw half-blood…And he immediately shuts up his brain. These are thoughts he can't allow. 

They are long past London when Eris blinks open his eyes, absently staring out of the window. "They are recruiting," he hears Tamlin say and quickly hits is leg under the table. What a fool, talking out loud about it. "Who?" Dagdan asks, the obvious idiot he is.

"You know who," Tamlin answer him, but Eris' warning glare is enough for him to not continue speaking about this topic. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The atmosphere is gloomy, the scenery eerie, no excitement comes from the pupils as the Hogwarts Express comes to a halt at the platform of Hogsmead station. Students leave the train, crowding along the platform, getting ready to go to the castle. Anxiousness and nervousness weigh heavy in the air, a sense of uncertainty going along with. Koschei is rising to power, and people —mostly Muggles of course— grow more and more afraid the imminent danger. 

Eris Vanserra is nothing, but elegant and arrogant confidence when he steps out onto the train platform, smoothing one hand over his neatly combed hair, the other moving into the pocket of his trousers. The air around him is crisp, a breeze carrying the scent of pine and moss, as it touches his skin. His amber eyes scan his surroundings, halting on the big gates. 

Beside him, Tamlin Fahrhan grumbles loudly, complaining about something Eris couldn't care less about. Dagdan wears an amused smirk on his face, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers as he saunters a few steps behind the two boys. "Our last year," he comments. 

But Eris does not answer him, his eyes are still on the gates, on the Aurors behind them, searching every pupil and all the luggage upon arriving. Cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck, a kernel of panic and anxiousness taking root inside of his chest. 

"Can you believe this nonsense?" Eris mutters, his tone tinged with disdain. "Searching our trunks as if we're hiding dark secrets." Like the fucking huge secret hidden beneath his sleeve! He is terrified, but masks it in sheer arrogance and disdain. 

Tamlin snorts and shakes his head. "Honestly, do they think we are Death Eaters or what?"

Dagdan chuckles, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Well, that I would not deem as something bad, you know, Tam." 

The two boys chuckle, but Eris doesn't. He feels like throwing up, the tattoo feeling like it is burning its way right through his pale skin. Shame and regret feel like they are sinking claws into Eris' heart. 

As they make their way towards the gates, their grumbling continues, complaining about being searched and all the unnecessary things happening, but Eris does not pay attention. He is caught in his own mind, pained and haunted by what had been done to him during the summer holidays. It wasn't his choice — the choice was made for him. Beron made this choice for him. 

The Aurors check them only quickly, Eris glowers at them, hoping they remember who his father is so they will let him pass — and they do. 

The majestic Thestrals —only visible to Tamlin at this point— are awaiting them when they reach the carriages. Eris, Tamlin, and Dagdan climb into the carriage, no conversation happening between them, until Dagdan unfortunately has to open his mouth.  

"At least the Mudblood is pretty. All three sisters actually are," Dagdan mumbles, gazing back into the distance when the carriage departs. 

"By how much you talk about them, one could get the impression you have a crush on Elain Archeron!"

"Shut up, Tamlin!" Dagdan growls and slumps back into his seat. He flips off his friend, with a grimace on his face. 

Once again Eris is in his own mind. The creaking of the wheels, mingles with the wind around them as they continue their journey to the castle.

As the carriages come to a halt in front of the castle, Eris, Tamlin, and Dagdan step out onto the cobblestone, heading for the inside. 

The Great Hall, brightly lit and welcoming, awaits them, its doors wide open to let everyone in. In here everything seems lighter, the people happier — chatter and even laughter fills Eris' ears and he looks around in the Great Hall. 

Eris once again wears his demeanour of arrogant confidence, a mask and shield he has perfected for himself. He veils his face in cool boredom, strutting towards his house table, just when someone walks past him. Not someone…Azriel Moretti. 

He is also already dressed in his robes, his dark blue Ravenclaw tie in perfect place just like the glasses sitting on his nose, as he wants to walk to his table. 

All house tables are adorned with goblets, and plates filled with all sorts of dishes. But Eris is quicker, not sure why he even bothers to talk to him…maybe because he wants to spend time with the handsome Ravenclaw, with the beautiful brown eyes and the lovely glasses? Ugh, hell no…

"Moretti." Eris' lips curl into a sly smile as he turns to Azriel, who has stopped walking and also turns around.

"Well, well, well," Eris drawls, his voice dripping with a feigned air of superiority. "Look who we have here. Look who has returned again, the Ravenclaw half-blood, so very smart and brilliant. Must be tough, not being part of either side, huh? Not a pureblood and not a mudblood either."

But Azriel looks unfazed, tired, his expression emotionless. He stares at Eris for a long moment and then brings one hand up to adjust his glasses. 

"Being half-blood doesn't seem to be bad to me, and everything is better than being like you — a pure breed who thinks that that sort of thing really matters in life."

Eris raises an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard by Azriel's unexpected response. His usual air of arrogance threatens to waver. His nostrils flare, eyes sharpening on the Ravenclaw. "Oh, how wonderful of you, Embracing your…oddness."

Azriel's lips curl. "Better odd than like you."

When the fuck did he grow that confidence to answer back to me? the Slytherin boy thinks. His glower only intensifies, but damn is it hot that Azriel turned so confident and strong over the holidays.

Eris opens his mouth to retort, but no words come out, he is too stunned. Azriel's subtle confidence has left him momentarily speechless and he does not like this. Before he can find his voice, Azriel leans forward a bit. He is the same height as Eris, another thing the Slytherin doesn't really like about him. But then…there is hardly anything the Slytherin really doesn't like about Azriel. 

Over the last year he has figured out that he actually likes too many things about Azriel. Too many things no one can ever find out about. No one can know about his crush, it would be his end.

"You know, Eris," Azriel says, his voice dropping an octave, "I am pretty alright with the way I am. It took me a damn long time to accept it, but now I can say I feel good about myself, my heritage. And no matter what complexes you have about your own heritage, don't leave your frustration out on someone else, it doesn't make you a better person. It only makes you look pathetic. "

Eris' cheeks flush slightly, embarrassment flooding his entire being. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Moretti. I was just messing around with you, not my problem that you don't understand some fun."

Azriel chuckles coldly, his laughter like a melody that caresses Eris' skin. "Of course, Vanserra." Azriel's gaze is stern and hard. "But I want you to remember one thing: it's not the blood that defines a wizard, but his heart and mind. Maybe you should remind yourself of that from time to time."

With that, Azriel turns around and walks away, not deigning the Slytherin boy another glance. Frustrated, embarrassed and deeply annoyed, Eris heads to the Slytherin table, his thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. 

What goes unnoticed by him is that as Azriel walks over to the Ravenclaw table, he turns and his gaze lingers on Eris for a moment before he sits down and dives into his meal, his heart beating with a secret that is only his share. But he will never do so.

The feast begins, the pupils are greeted, Headboy and Headgirl are announced — Rhysand and Feyre, to no ones surprise. 

Then the pupils are warned about the dangers lurking outside the castle walls. And then the pupils are sent of to their dorm rooms. 

In the quiet Slytherin dorm room, the moonlight casts a gentle glow upon Eris' pale skin. He leans against the headboard of the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles. His roommates, Tamlin and Dagdan, are fast asleep, their snores drifting to him, but otherwise the room is calm — one could hear a needle drop.

Eris is wide awake though— too many thoughts are coursing through his mind. 

And somehow, he can't help but think back to his encounter with Azriel in the Great Hall. He remembers the witty come-back the Ravenclaw had, his confident responses, and the way his eyes shone with some unplaceable emotion.

Alone with his thoughts, Eris lets himself dream. He traces his fingers along his bedsheet, mulling over his feelings. And then…he smiles as he replays the memory, hearing Azriel's voice in his mind, seeing his eyes. His heart suddenly beats faster at the sheer thought of the Ravenclaw. Idiocy…

But in the quiet of the Slytherin dorm room, Eris allows himself to hope for something more, something completely impossible.

With a sigh, Eris settles into his bed, pulling the sheets up to his chin, thoughts of Azriel warming his heart. The memory of their encounter becomes a secret source of joy, even though it was all but joyful. But it was…something and a good distraction from all the chaos and pain in his life. 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

"Same old bullshit," Dagdan comments as Professor Devlon strolls to the front of the Potions classroom. The first week at Hogwarts was rather uneventful, but now that the second week has started, things are starting to become more interesting. 

"Today, we are brewing a potion of which the name should for now be a secret to you. And I will chose the partner you are working with."

Groans and annoyed grumbles fill the Potions classroom, the pupils letting their displeasure about it be known out loud.

The professor turns around, his brow raised, black robes like a veil of darkness around him. "Anyone wants to say something?" he asks, in his deep rumble, speaking very slowly. 

Everyone is calm. 

"I thought so. Now, let me put you into pairs." And so he starts. 

Some are happy with their partners, some are not. Emerie from Gryffindor, who is in a team with Tamlin nearly throws a cauldron through the whole classroom when she finds out about her partner.

But it is another cauldron that should bring Eris and Azriel together. "Moretti, Vanserra."

Eris' eyes nearly fall out of their sockets and the groan Azriel releases speaks volumes. 

Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Cassian, and best friend of Azriel, quickly reaches his hand over to give his friend a supportive pat on his back. "You can do this, Azzy. It is just one potion."

Azriel fights the urge to roll his eyes and walks over to where Professor Devlon is waiting next to a cauldron, Eris already standing next to him — obviously Devlon would chose Eris' cauldron, him being head of Slytherin House obviously makes him favour the Slytherins. 

"Don't mess this up, I need a good grade." "Funny, I was going to say the same thing," Azriel grumbles and turns to Eris, a disdainful expression on his face. Azriel pushes his glasses up his nose as he draws in a steadying breath, steeling himself for what lies ahead — having to work together with Eris. Being in close proximity to Eris. 

With the cauldron in front of them bubbling softly, the two boys set out to work, their movements cautious. Eris reaches for a vial of crushed rose thorns, his fingers accidentally brushing against Azriel's as they both reach for the same jar. Their hands linger for the blink of an eye, and they exchange a fleeting glance that holds a hint of intrigue. But quickly they look away, and pull their hands back.

"Watch it, Moretti and take a step back," Eris growls. "I'd hate to see your glasses fog up from the heat of the cauldron."

Azriel rolls his eyes, his lips curving into a wry smile. "I'm more worried about you accidentally dipping your fingers into the liquid." Not a good come-back, but the only one Azriel could come up with. His mind is racing, heart beating to fast — he still feels Eris' fingers against his. 

Somehow, they slowly find their rhythm, falling into a pattern of actions and they work perfectly together, without any conversation passing between them. 

Eris pours a good amount of peppermint and Pearl Dust into the Caulrdon, while Azriel grinds moonstone powder. "Easy there, Moretti," Eris quips, "we don't want you to grind it down to nothing."

Azriel only shakes his head and then adds the powder to the potion and it starts to bubble a little more. "Looks good."

Eris smirks. "Talking about me?"

"No, about myself." Azriel quickly turns his head, not able to avoid the small smile that appears on his lips. 

Their banter continues, and soon turns from not so nice remarks to subtle flirtation — somehow unbeknownst to them both. As they lean over the cauldron, their shoulders brush against each other, a sensation that sends a shiver down both their spines. Their eyes meet once again, a spark passing between. 

The potion continues to simmer, and they are constantly checking if everything goes well. 

Azriel and Eris are the top students of the class, and barely ever fail any potion. But this time, it is a little more difficult. With the constant distractions…

Both look into the cauldron and then lift their gazes. Their eyes lock. In that moment, the classroom fades away, and it seems like it is just the two of them. Their fingers brush once more, the touch fleeting, as they both sharply pull their hands back from the cauldron. 

Eris's heart races, his breath catching as he meets Azriel's gaze again. Time seems to stand still.

And then, as quickly as it began the moment between them is gone. Eris reaches up to brush a few strands of hair out of his face. They have curled around his forehead from the steam rising from the cauldron. 

But it is the wrong arm and his sleeve shifts, revealing a glimpse of ink on his forearm. 

Azriel's eyes widen as he catches sight of the tattoo – his mark.

"Eris," Azriel starts, his voice cautious, "what is…?"

But Eris pulls his arm behind his back, panic flashing across his features. Cold sweat breaks out all over his skin, panic gripping his heart with icy claws. "Don't. Don't ask. Just… promise me you won't say anything."

Azriel doesn't react and so Eris grows angry. He glowers, teeth clenched. "You can't say anything. I warn you. Think of your pathetic Muggle mother," he seethes. 

Shock flashes in Azriel's eyes, just like pain and disappointment. Azriel takes a step back, his lips parting but no words leaving his mouth. 

Eris takes a cautious step forward. He wants to take back the words, wants to tell Azriel that he would never hurt his mother, but his fear, the panic running so deep in his veins, has been stronger and made him say something he did not at all mean. The Slytherin wants to apologise, explain himself, but he gets no chance to do so. 

"Tell us what yours smell like!" Devlon orders, suddenly appearing in front of them. 

Being so caught up in their own conversation, the two boys haven't noticed that everyone else has stopped brewing and it is time to do a presentation in class now. 

"Go on then!" Professor Devlon commands, no hint of kindness nor any room for protest in his voice. 

Azriel harshly shoves Eris by his shoulder as he steps forward, closer to the Cauldron. 

"Step back, I can only smell you, Vanserra."

"Says the one who bathed in cologne this morning — its the only damn thing I can smell," Eris growls, although his heart aches. Why the bloody hell does his life have to be so terribly difficult?

In this moment, as they present their potion, even Amren is quiet at the scenery that unfolds itself  in front of the pupils. She is watching the two males through squinted eyes, a sly smile on her lips. Are they truly revealing their most hidden secrets in this moment, their crush for the other? Obviously unbeknownst to them… 

"That, is indeed highly interesting," professor Devlon says, his eye brows raised. "Is that all you can scent, Mr Vanserra?"

"It is, I can barely make out the other scents over his cologne. But I think there also is…spearmint, and hint of old parchment, and night air."

Professor Devlon taps the side of his face, as if in deep thought and then waves his hand. 

"Good, good. As it should be. Class is over for today."

"Won't you tell us what potion it was, Professor?" Azriel asks, but Devlon does not hear him or decides to ignore him.  

"Amortentia, Azriel." It is Gwyn who answers him. She is in his year and in his house. Her teal eyes meet his when she says in a soft voice, "It lets us scent the things we like the most, the things we desire, those things that attract us." 

There is small curve to her lips and then she walks past Azriel, following after Emerie and Nesta, leaving an absolutely stunned Azriel behind. 

Holy Helga! The things we desire. 

Eris hasn't heard the conversation, his mind is racing, thoughts too loud and he knows he has to talk to Azriel. He walks up to him when the Ravenclaw is about to follow Cassian and Rhysand. But Eris is faster. Hidden behind the robes, he grabs Azriel's arm, pulling him to him. 

There is warning in his voice, but also fear when he leans in closely. "Astronomy tower. 10pm. Come alone."

He does not wait for an answer, he only holds on to the sliver of hope that Azriel will come.

The moment Eris steps outside the classroom, a painful, dreadful time is about to start. He has to wait until it is 10pm to find out if Azriel will give him away, and if he even shows up. 

He barely communicates during his time at dinner, and also not later when they sit together in the common room. He excuses himself early, leaving for his dorm room. Both Tamlin and Dagdan give him questioning looks, sneering at him for being a baby who needs a lot of sleep. Amren simply does not care about him going to bed so early, she just shrugs her shoulders and Nesta, when he passes her before the staircase, has something like empathy glimmering in her eyes. 

But it is only fleeting, and Eris not at all in the mood to talk to her. His mind is racing, heart beating faster than a stallion galloping in the wilderness. 

He feels so empty, so sad, so torn, and broken. When he is finally alone all the emotions reach the surface, and he silently sobs into a pillow. 

Later, he washes himself, not immediately putting back on his pyjama shirt so he can look at the tattoo, his mark for a moment. Everything inside him convulses, until there is nothing but a painful ache in his heart. 

Everything hurts just at the sheer thought of what had been done to him. It wasn't his choice, he never made this choice. His father did and his mother had to stand by and watch. 

He does not look at it directly, the steam from bathing earlier making the tattoo barely visible through the mirror. But it is there. And if he can't see it, he will always feel it. It is burned into his skin…and that until forever. 

Eris' fingers curl around the frame of the sink, his teeth clenched, until he pushes off and finally dons his night shirt. He brushes his damp hair back, securing them at the nape of his neck with a hair tie. 

He hopes he can somehow make Azriel see that he did not want this. He hopes Azriel will somehow understand he was forced to wear his mark. Azriel is a smart boy, and also kind, Eris thinks, he will understand it. Or at least, maybe not tell anyone.

But what if Rhysand or Cassian, Azriel's best friends, already know about it? Would he really keep a secret from them?

Although, Eris doubts it, he holds on to the glimmer of hope — Azriel would first let him explain…

The handle on the clock ticks almost painfully slowly, reminding Eris exactly how miserable his situation right now is. And it is very miserable. 

When Dagdan and Tamlin return to the dorm room, Eris is still awake but pretends to be fast asleep. They also wash and finally climb into their beds, falling asleep soon. But Eris is wide awake, awaiting the time to finally go up to the astronomy tower. 

And so the time passes, so terribly slowly, but at some point 9:45 arrives and Eris sets out for the astronomy tower — calm and smooth as a cat. He can't be caught. Under no circumstance can anyone catch him. 

Eris, his wand tightly grasped in one hand, wanders through the corridors, always watching out for any imminent danger. He doesn't know what wanders the corridors of Hogwarts at night, you can never be careful enough. 

The air is cool and crisp, goosebumps appearing on his skin. But they don't appear because of the cold, but because of how nervous and anxious he is. This talk will decide about everything. 

If the talk even happens. What if Azriel does not show up? What if he already told everyone?

Doubts start to gnaw on Eris…Maybe it had been a bad idea to ask him for a talk in the first place?

Eris' bare feet — so caught up in thoughts, he forgot to put on slippers— move over the floor as calm as possible. 

He releases a low and relieved breath when he finally arrives at the staircase leading up to the astronomy tower. With careful and coordinated steps he climbs upstairs and—

His breath catches in his throat, heart hammering against his rib cage. 

Azriel turns around, adjusting his glasses, and gives Eris a once over. Just like the Slytherin, Azriel is dressed in his pyjamas…and barefoot. 

"You are late," the Ravenclaw says matter-of-factly. His face is expressionless, on the edge of cold.

"I didn't think you would come," Eris breathes, finally taking the last step. 

"But I am here. So what do you want to tell me?" Azriel takes a step back, leaning against the railing that surrounds the astronomy tower. "How you got the mark? If you are proud of it?" Azriel raises a brow, waiting.

Eris swallows around the lump in his throat, it is probably the size of a peach. He wipes his clammy hands down his thighs, his jaw aching from how hard he clenches it. Then he shakes his head. "Did you tell anyone?"

Azriel looks pained, almost like he had been struggling with this question for the past hours. And he has. It has plagued him ever since he spotted the mark on his classmate's arm. 

The Ravenclaw gives his head a little shake and Eris releases another breath of relief, before Azriel says. "Not yet…"

"You can't tell anyone, Azriel." Eris is in his face in an instant, hands brace next to Azriel's body on the railing. "Hogwarts is all I have. The only place where I am safe, where…I…" His voice breaks, not able to finish his sentence.

"Are you not safe with your Death Eater mummy and daddy?" Azriel retorts, glowering fiercely.

"My mother is no Death Eater!" Eris quickly defends, glowering as well. 

He can see his breath —or is it Azriel's?— between their faces and it distracts him momentarily. Their closeness does. 

Azriel raises a surprised brow. "She is not?"

"She would never." Eris swallows thickly. "And neither would I. It wasn't my choice. I did not agree to this, I was forced to do it." "Everyone has a choice!" Azriel growls, shoving his face forward, his forehead now pressed against Eris'. "Everyone has a choice, Eris."

Eris grows angry, because he didn't. It is simply wrong. Sometimes you don't have a choice. He clearly didn't. 

"I did not. With a father like Beron, you don't have a choice."

Eris' eyes close, when tears start to burn in them and already dampen his lashes. He inhales a deep, shaky breath and makes a move to step away from Azriel. But the Ravenclaw is faster, his hand…with scars on it, curls around Eris' wrist. "You were forced to do it?"

Eris nods slowly, and the first tear slides out of the corner of his eye. 

"Do you believe in what they praise? Blood purity, I mean." "I did…I did for a long time." "Not anymore?" Azriel's tone is careful, but much softer. Eris shakes his head. 

"What has changed?" the Ravenclaw knows this is his only chance to properly talk to Eris, to see if he really means it, or if he just pretends to be something better so Azriel won't give him away. 

"Many things," Eris breathes, Azriel's hand still on his wrist. And it really shouldn't feel that right.

"Enlighten me." Azriel won't let him go that easily. 

"My little brother…Lucien. I think you might know him?"

Azriel nods, his expression once again unreadable. 

"He as a Pureblood is dating a Mud—a Muggleborn now. Elain Archeron. And this somehow already changed a lot about how I see things. And I realised that blood purity is simply wrong, our beliefs are. And then—"

Eris cuts himself off, swallowing thickly once again. Will he lay all the cards on the table now? Reveal everything? Maybe this is his only chance…

"And you."

"I changed?" Azriel seems irritated, his brows raised.

Eris throws his head back with a loud groan. "How thick are you? You fucking changed something about me, okay? I have an enormous crush on you. And I don't give a damn about you being a Half-Blood or your mother being a Muggle. I couldn't care less and that was when I realised that I am not like them. That I am different. That I want to be different!"

Tears freely roll down the Slytherin's face. His declaration somehow hangs in the air between them, heavy and tangy, but Azriel, gathering all his courage, does what he has been dreaming of since quite a while. 

He slams his lips onto the Slytherin's, his arms curling around Eris' shoulders so he can bring him in as close as possible. Eris pushes the Ravenclaw against the railing, his tongue brushing Azriel's lip. He can't kiss him hard enough, fast enough. 

The Ravenclaw's glasses are wedged between their faces, low groans and growls, erupting in both their throats, hands touching every possible place just to feel more of the other. 

Once their lips are swollen, breaths ragged, their lips part, but their bodies stay close, holding onto each other. "Azriel," Eris breathes, needing a moment to ground himself. 

"My Amortentia…the potion we brewed today. It smelled like you." There is a small, sheepish smile on the Ravenclaw's face. Azriel adjusts both his glasses and his hair and finally meets Eris' gaze. 

"Amortentia…" Eris' voice is tinged with wonder. "Mine smelled like you." He smiles then, relief and something like hope in his eyes. 

"I don't want to drag you into this with me, Azriel."

Eris brings up a hand, brushing his thumb over Azriel's cheek. "It is my battle and it won't get easier, I don't want you to be in danger because of me. I bear his mark, and I am part of the Death Eaters, I can't bring you into this with me."

But Azriel vehemently shakes his head. "Too late. I am already in this with you. From now on, we are doing this together. I will help you get out of it. Or I will protect, but you don't have to deal with all of this alone."

"Azriel—" "Don't Azriel me! I will help you with this, and you can't stop me."

"Good Godrick, I don't deserve you." Eris shakes his head with a small, sad chuckle and leans in to press a kiss against Azriel's lips. 

"You don't deserve what was done to you, Eris." Sadness passes over Azriel's face. "But we will find a solution. Together."

Eris intertwines their fingers. "Together."

~~~~~~~ erisweek tag list: @brekkershadowsinger @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @liftyourhipsformelovex @elsie-bells @the-sweet-psycho azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt@brekkershadowsinger  @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#erisweek2023 #eris #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x azriel #azris #acotar au #hogwarts au #slytherin #ravenclaw #acotar #acosf

[thefangirlofhp]

25. fireplace

“Now why would I do that?”

Elain looks over from her Herbology textbook at Azriel, hunched over the long table reading yesterday’s print of The Daily Prophet. Next to them, Rhysand and Cassian have settled into a game of chess a few minutes ago.

“Come on, mate,” Rhys persuades him, from where he’s sitting next to Elain. “Mum would love to have you there. We’d have proper fun. Cassian’s coming.”

Cassian snaps his head up from the chess board and pointedly glares at Rhys. “I said I’m going if Az is.”

“Shut up,” Rhys waves him quiet. “Mor will be there.”

“She’s your cousin, of course she is,” Azriel replies, uninterested, as he turns a page. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Now you aren’t,” Rhys argues. “But it’s not for another two weeks. Eh? I could lend you guys some of my clothes, you wouldn’t have to worry about getting fitted or anything. Better yet, Mum would make you robes on the spot if I tell her you’re coming.”

“Rhys, man,” Azriel sighs, and lays a scarred hand flat on top of the newspaper. “I’m really honored you want me there, but it’s not my crowd.”

“It’s a New-Years ball, at my parents’,” Rhys reiterates. “We’ll fuck around with the guests for a bit, steal a couple of drinks, break into Dad’s office, and have fun at my place. What about that isn’t your crowd?”  

Azriel blinks down at the paper, quiet, as a muscle in his jaw flickers. Cassian glances at him, before turning back to Rhys.

“Maybe drop it?” Cassian suggests quietly. “Don’t pressure him.”

“You’re gonna make a move or not?!” demands a chess piece, that Rhys promptly moves before looking back at Azriel.

“What are you even going to do over the holidays?” Rhys asks. “Stay here alone all break?”

“I’ve got work to catch on,” Azriel replies quietly. “I’m way back.”

“Hey, I’ve got you covered on that,” Rhys presses. “And the professors understand. Come to the ball, change of air. What do you say?”

Elain leans against the table edge, watching Azriel purse his lips tightly.

“Sleep on it,” she suggests softly, as three pairs of eyes swivel to her. “Could be nice. Does he have to answer now?” she asks Rhys.

“No,” he quickly answers. “No, of course. She’s right. Think it over, yeah? You can’t let Cass go alone.”

Azriel nods once. “I’ll think about it.”

Rhys nods and returns to his and Cassian’s chess game. Elain meets Azriel’s eyes and offers an encouraging smile.

“Oh, and Elain, you’re welcome too, obviously,” Rhys remembers, a few minutes later. “Sorry, it slipped my mind.”

“Thank you,” she smiles politely. “It’d be a pleasure, but I’ve got plans with my family for the holiday.”

“Ah,” Rhys blinks. “That’s a shame. But have fun, yeah.”

She smiles again, and returns to her Herbology and swirling thoughts. She, too, like Azriel is very much behind on their work. Only Azriel has a plausible and legitimate reason but Elain’s is her lost grasp on reality. The stress makes it worse, as she’s realized, and this state of hers only generates more for her to worry over and on goes the vicious cycle.

She does think a change of scenery would be good for him; this year has been rough on all of them, but for Azriel it’s been one punch after the other. From being interrogated almost monthly by the Ministry aurors for potential relations to Hybern’s supporters (an unfortunate consequence of being the Shadowsinger family’s heir, the first actual shadowsinger in several generations) and most recently his mother’s passing away. Elain feels as if it has upended his life in a way, as whatever boy he was before this was no longer found in the aftermath. Azriel had left the school to bury her, and what came back was a solemn and reserved young man—granted he has always kept to himself, to a certain degree, but it was attributable to his shy nature and unique personality. But something was different, now, and Elain hopes it is only the grief.

When most of the students in the Great Hall have retired to their dormitories, and Elain’s too drowsy to make sense of the blurring words on the pages, Azriel takes a look at her and folds up the newspaper neatly.

“Come on,” he climbs over the table and shuts her textbook. “Bed.”

She yawns. “But ‘m not tired.”

“Elain, do you really want to risk actual sleep for half-assed no-yield studying?” Azriel packs her things up into her bag and slings it over his shoulder. “Could you guarantee another chance to sleep?”

She stands up, and follows him to the doors. “You’re right,” she mumbles. “But I want to stay up with you. I know you’re not getting any sleep.”

“I’m fine,” he replies. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Don’t have to,” she insists. “I’m right as rain.”

Azriel sighs. “Yeah. Plans with your family over the holidays? Since when?”

“Well, I am going to see Nesta, and spend time with Father,” Elain frowns. “What’s so unbelievable about that?”

Azriel raises a brow at her. “Didn’t you say your Father’s in Brazil?”

Elain blinks. “I actually forgot about that. But I’m going home, nonetheless. And you should stay with the Blackwoods. I hate to think of you here alone.”

“Look, let’s agree to suspend our mutual worry for each other and just focus on our own selves, how about that?”  

Elain snorts. That meant she was winning. They reach the Hufflepuff corridor, and Elain turns to Azriel. “Hey,” she reaches out and squeezes his hand. “Think it over, really, okay?”

His eyes flicker over her face, his own unreadable and encrypted with his narrowed brows and clenched jaw. “I will,” he replies softly.

“Liar,” she breathes out.

He pauses.

“What are you hiding?” it is a rhetoric question, of course. If she thought whatever he had going on was something he could actually talk about, she’d have long ago pressed him for answers. But Elain kept his mother’s passing in mind, the bare minimum of excuses, while keeping a close eye on him. But she supposes what she wants to say is something like; I see you and I don’t understand, but I see something is the matter.

Azriel shakes his head a beat late. “Nothing,” he softly lies, and she supposes he knows already by now she can hear the lies just as well as the truth. “Good night, Elain.”

She watches him go. “Night, Az.”

#hogwarts!au #strikes again #reader: so it's really either a short nonsensical word vomit or an intricate scene from a fic with insider references and details #to the overall plot that you're not really revealing? #me: uh yeah :)) yes you are correct :)) #elain archeron #rhysand #cassian #hufflepuff!elain #ravenclaw!azriel #slytherin!rhysand #gryffindor!cassian #no i will not accept any different houses this is final #although i would turn a blind eye to rhys being in ravenclaw but his slytherin characteristics are overwhelming #maybe one day i'll get to sit down and write this entirely #when i'm done with apaixonar and the last chapter of loea #hogwarts elriel #because i am a sucker for that #cheers

[writingsbychlo]

pls cast your ✨hogwarts au✨ i would love to know lol

gryffindor

cassian

mor

tamlin

lucien

emerie

slytherin

azriel

eris

amarantha

amren

ravenclaw

nesta

rhysand

gwyn

kallias

vivianne

hufflepuff

reader

feyre

elain

helion

tarquin

#hogwarts au ✨

[softpinkprincipessa]

Sorting Acotar characters into Hogwarts Houses:

Elain Archeron - kindness, loyalty, conscientiousness

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #elain archeron #elriel #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #pro elain #pro elriel #beautiful #azriel acosf #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #elain and azriel #azriel acomaf #azriel acotar #harry potter #hogwarts houses #hogwarts #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #gryffindor #slytherin

[freepandahugs]

so, i am back once again, this time with both elain and azriel ft. the cute carnivorous plant 🌱

i have to say the plant has to be my favorite part of this

it’s not the most detailed drawing or anything, but it was fun, so i present to you: hufflepuff elain and her resident slytherin boy, azriel 💛💚

for a second there i questioned if i should make azriel a ravenclaw, but i think he would fit better in slytherin. what do you all think?? also, i had an idea that maybe i should do a feysand and messian version of these drawings ft. the plant 🌱

anyways, hope you like it

(@casuallivi please don’t collapse, i’ll feel guilty if you do)

#elain archeron #azriel #elriel #acotar #i can’t decide if azriel is a ravenclaw or a slytherin #elriel fanart #elain fanart #azriel fanart

[dottielovegood]

ASPHODEL

Elriel, Hogwarts AU Prompt: Shy glances and restricted touches (first day of @elriel-month) Summary: Elain helps Azriel in the greenhouse and teaches him about muggle mythology.  Warnings: None Word count: 5774 Read here on AO3

Maybe it was a bit cliché that Elain, a Hufflepuff, spent most of her time in the greenhouse, but she really didn’t care. Ever since her first year at Hogwarts, herbology had been her favorite subject. She hadn’t known much about plants before getting that letter at age eleven, but it hadn’t taken long before she realized that she had a knack for growing things. Growing up, Elain had always been the sweet sister. Perhaps it was because she was the middle child, but she had lived to make her mother happy and that required dressing up in the most ridiculous dresses and learning everything about how to behave ladylike. She was expected to be pretty and never make a fuss since her parents had their hands full with her sisters, Feyre and Nesta. She loved her sisters dearly, but they were wild souls that no one could ever contain. Elain, on the other hand, just wanted to make life easier for everyone around her. People pleaser, Nesta had called her once, and yes, maybe she was. Or at least, she had been. But that all seemed to change when she came to Hogwarts. Suddenly, she was able to be whoever she wanted to be. She rarely spent time with her sisters since they were in different houses and Elain quickly realized that she had no idea who she was when nobody was there to control her every move. 

Elain had asked herself sometimes if liking herbology was an act of defiance. Her mother had always told her that good girls didn’t play in the dirt and maybe that’s why it felt so good to get her hands dirty? There was certainly something therapeutic about seeing something beautiful grow out of the soil; seeing your hard labour turn into something new and wondrous. Of course, being a witch in itself was an act of defiance since both of her parents were muggles. She had come to learn that it was very rare that two muggles would give birth to three witches and her mother had never been able to let it go. She hated them for what they were and Elain was quite certain that her feelings stemmed from jealousy. They were able to lead a life she could never dream of and when Feyre, her younger sister, had received a Hogwarts letter, their mother’s hope for a normal child disappeared. Sometimes, Elain thought that it might have been a kindness sent from the gods that her mother died during Feyre’s first year. Her relationship with her mother had been strenuous and even though she still sometimes missed her mother, she didn’t like the control and the abuse she had endured. As a child, she hadn’t questioned it but as she grew up, she realized their her mother hadn’t been a kind woman. 

Hogwarts had been her salvation. She could remember how scared and nervous she had been on her first day here, but she also could remember a feeling of finally coming home. Of finally having someplace she belonged. She immediately threw herself into her schoolwork, trying to learn everything she could about the magical world she now was a part of. Apart from herbology, she also realized that she was very good at divination, which her sisters sometimes made fun of her for. “It’s not a real subject, Elain,” Nesta, who was one year older, told her when Elain announced that she wanted to proceed to NEWT level in divination after receiving an outstanding on her OWLs. “Neither is Quidditch but that’s all you seem to care about,” Elain had retorted. Elain didn’t dare add that apart from Slytherin winning the Quidditch cup, Nesta seemed to only care about a certain Beater on the Gryffindor team. If anyone even suggested that Nesta didn’t hate Cassian, she would throw a fit. “He’s a dimwit. He’s taken one too many bludgers to the head,” she would tell Elain when she dared to mention his name in Nesta’s presence. And yet, Elain hadn’t been a bit surprised when she found Cassian in Nesta’s room during the summer holiday before returning to Hogwarts for her sixth year. Elain had seen it written in the stars, after all. And in the tea leaves during one of Professor Trelawny’s classes. 

Elain was lost in thoughts of her family when she felt the air in the greenhouse shift. It was as if the shadows were watching her. A shiver ran down her spine. It was dark and she was all alone. The only light came from the small lantern she had placed on the table next to her so she could see while she worked on her plants. She had never been afraid of the dark, but right now she was feeling as if someone was watching her. Slowly, she reached for a pair of scissors and turned around.

At first, she saw nothing, but then - movement. 

She gasped when someone stepped out from the shadows. With her heart beating furiously, she raised the scissors. The dark figure stepped closer, the light from the lantern not yet illuminating his face.

“I come in peace.” He held up his hands in front of him as if to show her that he was unarmed. She recognized that voice. She would recognize it anywhere, at any time. She had dreamt of it. Had yearned for it. Had listened when it answered the professors' questions during class and had wondered what it would sound like while whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She really shouldn’t think about such things - she had never even spoken to him. Yet there was something in her that felt drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain. She knew in an instant that the person standing there in the shadows hadn’t come to harm her. She lowered the scissors and pressed a hand over her heart. 

“Merlin’s beard. You gave me a fright,” she said. 

“I tend to have that effect on people.” His voice was smooth, like shadows and velvet.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” she said, her heart still beating a little too fast. 

He took one more step toward her, finally stepping into the light. Azriel. His dark hair was messy, just like it always was. As if he was unable to tame it. Elain still remembered seeing him on her first day at Hogwarts. She had sat down on that stool in front of the entire school, waiting for the headmistress to put the sorting hat on her. She had looked out at the crowd to find Nesta at the Slytherin table, but instead, her eyes were drawn to a dark-haired Ravenclaw. His hair had been messy back then too, and for some reason, she hadn’t been able to look away. She didn’t know if her memory was playing tricks on her but she was quite certain that he held her gaze until the hat shouted “Hufflepuff!” and sealing her fate. 

It had been over six years since that day but Elain still had a crush on Azriel. It was silly, really. She had never had the courage to talk to him. He seemed so cool, so out of her league. He was the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, he was a prefect and he was the top student in all his classes. He was also ridiculously good-looking and mysterious, which only added to his charm. Last year, someone even started a rumour saying that Azriel was a vampire. It was absurd, of course, but looking at him now when he stood in front of her in the darkness, she couldn’t help but think that it would be quite fitting if he was a vampire. He certainly looked like a creature of the night. A very beautiful creature, she thought to herself. Merlin, she was pathetic. 

“In all honesty, I didn’t think anyone would be down here this close to curfew,” he said and dropped his hands to his sides. He pointed at the scissors in her hands, “Especially not someone with a weapon. Maybe I should be frightened of you?” he teased. 

Elain quickly put the scissors down on the table behind her. “I’m–I’m sorry,” she said quickly, feeling all the nervousness she usually felt around him returning to her as her heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm. 

He shook his head, “I’m just teasing. I really didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I can leave if you want.”

Elain felt foolish. This was the first time she had ever spoken a word to him and she had threatened him with a pair of scissors. Not the best first impression…

“No, you can stay,” she said quickly. Maybe too quickly. “I was just finishing up here anyway.”

She wanted to ask him why he was there. She had been given a key by Professor Longbottom so she could prepare for her exams and to her knowledge, no one else had a key. And no one else was nerdy enough to spend a Friday evening in the greenhouse. 

“Thank you,” he smiled at her and she was quite certain that she might die on the spot. She suddenly had no idea what to do with her hands. What did normal people do with their hands? 

“What are you working on?” he asked and turned his head to see the potted plant behind her. 

“Sneezewort,” she answered and felt herself blush. She suddenly wished she had been working on a more interesting plant. “I’m learning how to cultivate them.” She shouldn’t have added that. It was quite obvious what she was doing, but she couldn’t stop herself. She always babbled when nervous. “We need quite a few since they’re a vital part of many potions and with the NEWTs coming up for the seventh years…” she trailed off, realizing that she was, indeed, babbling. “It’s not that interesting.”

His eyes were still focused on her, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a gentle smile. The attention made her even more nervous. She hoped he didn’t notice her blush. Maybe the greenhouse was dark enough to hide her red cheeks?

“And Professor Longbottom has his students growing them for him? I hope he’s paying you, especially if you have to work on them this late on a Friday night.”

Before Elain could stop herself, she said, “Oh, I had nothing better to do. And I wanted to learn more, so I asked if I could help.” 

Shit, he was going to think that she was utterly pathetic now. Nothing better to do? She might as well have the words “lonely, loser, nerd,” stamped on her forehead. 

She was surprised when he chuckled. “I know the feeling. I usually spend most of my nights in the library.”

Somehow, Elain had trouble believing that. She had seen the way girls looked at him. She was certain that he wouldn’t have to spend a single night alone if he didn’t want to. But then again, what did she know? She didn’t know him and therefore had no idea about his preferences on how to spend a Friday night. 

“So, what brought you down here? We have no books, I’m afraid,” Elain said, feeling a bit bolder now that she knew that he too spent his evenings studying. Perhaps that shouldn’t come as a surprise? He was a Ravenclaw, after all…

Azriel scratches his neck and looked around the humid greenhouse. “I needed some powdered root of asphodel but there was none in potions classroom. I thought that maybe I could find some here.”

Elain narrowed her eyes at him, knowing fully well what kind of potions one could make with that ingredient. “And why do you need powdered root of asphodel in the middle of the night?”

He raised an eyebrow as if surprised by her question. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, trying to come off as more confident than she felt. “Just making sure you’re not doing something illegal.”

“Would you report me if I was?” there was that teasing tone of his again. She had never heard him speak like that before and she had no idea why she felt so warm when he did. 

“Maybe,” was all she managed to say. In all honesty, she probably wouldn’t. She was many things, but she wasn’t a snitch. And she couldn’t imagine Azriel actually wanting to hurt someone.

“Well, I’ll have you know that I just need it for my studies. I’m trying to brew every single potion on the curriculum a few times before the NEWTs and I only have one more potion left. The draught of living death.”

“And you couldn’t wait to get this one ingredient in the morning?”

“Where would be the fun in that? Also, I do my best work after dark.”

Maybe he was a vampire after all? If he was, would she let him bite her?

Elain wanted to slap herself for even thinking such things. And she wanted to slap herself even more when she realized that yes, she would definitely let him bite her. 

Elain let out a shaky breath. “Well, we have some roots that have been left out to dry, but they haven’t been made into a powder yet.”

“Shit,” he swore. “Maybe I could find a book in the library on how to properly prepare them…” he seemed to be speaking to himself. 

“I thought you needed the ingredient urgently?” 

“I do.”

“And yet you have time to read a book, but you don’t have the time to wait until morning to ask Professor Longbottom for the roots?”

He shrugged. “I’m a fast reader.”

Elain nodded, carefully contemplating her next move. She really didn’t want him to go now that they were finally talking. She had no idea if he was as interesting as she thought he was, but this seemed like the perfect time to find out. And maybe her only time. He might turn out to be a complete buffoon, but at least she’d know, and then she could get over her crush. And if he turned out to be even half as charming as she imagined… well, there was only one way to find out. 

“I could teach you how to do it. I mean, only if you want me to. I could also give you a book if you’d rather…”

“You know how to do it?” 

“Yes. I’ve helped prepare the ingredients for potions since my third year.”

He looked surprised. “Well, that would be really helpful actually. Thank you.”

She felt as surprised as he looked at those words. She hadn’t really thought that he would take her up on that offer, and now she had to prove herself. Her palms started to sweat. 

“Well, I just have to get a few things.” She picked up the potted plant she had been working on. When she turned back to him, he was reaching for the plant. “Let me,” he offered and took the pot from her hands. “Over there?” he asked and nodded to where a few other pots with Sneezewort stood lined up on a table.

She nodded, too stunned to speak. The fact that he was helpful only made her crush even harder on the handsome Ravenclaw. 

Get yourself together, she admonished herself as she made her way over to the back of the greenhouse where they kept a drying rack for roots, leaves and various flowers. She put a few roots in a big mortar and carried it to the workbench. Azriel walked up beside her and moved the lantern so they both could see better. 

He was so close she could smell him. His scent was like night-chilled mist and cedar and she had no idea how someone could smell so good. She knew that if she wasn’t careful, she could probably get drunk on his scent. 

He stood so close, his arm brushing hers. She had never been this close to a boy before and she had no idea what to do with herself and all of the emotions currently running through her body. 

“So, how do we do this?” he asked, his voice effectively bringing her mind back to the task at hand. 

She pushed the mortar toward him and handed him the pestle. His fingers brushed hers when he took it and it felt as if electricity passed between them. He quickly drew his hand back. 

“You– well, first you need to break the roots into smaller pieces.”

Azriel followed her instructions, pushing the pestle down on the roots until they started to break. 

“And now, you have to move your hand in a clockwise motion. You need to be firm, but not too rough. You don’t want the powder to be too fine.”

“Like this?” Azriel grabbed the side of the mortar with one hand while moving his other just like she told him. 

“A bit softer…” Without thinking, she reached over and put one hand over his. He tensed and she could almost feel the way his eyes focused on her pale hand covering his scarred one. She didn’t know what had happened to him, but she had noticed his hands before. Noticed the beauty that lay beyond the scars. His scars reminded her of ivy, for some reason. She had always found ivy beautiful. Even if it was an intrusive plant, she couldn’t help but marvel every time she saw a house or a tree covered in the green leaves. No matter how boring and mundane something was, ivy seemed to make it more magical. Beautiful, even. Just like Azriel’s hands. They told a story, and even if that story was filled with pain, they were proof that he had lived. That he had endured. 

They were truly beautiful. 

When she realized that she had let her hand linger on his, she removed it quickly and let it drop to her side. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“Don’t be.” His voice was lower, too. She wished she could know what he was thinking. Something told her that he really didn’t need help to ground up some roots. He was a Ravenclaw, and she knew that he had received perfect marks in all his courses. Surely, he knew how to do this. 

She dared to look up at him and found that he was already watching her. She felt herself blush again and had to look away. 

“Just– just keep going, but be more gentle,” she said and motioned for him to continue. 

He did as he was told. “I’m always gentle.” She could hear the smile in his voice but she didn’t dare look at him again. Instead, she just kept her eyes focused on his hands and the mortar. 

“I’ve seen you play Quidditch,” she told him. “I know that’s a lie.” He was certainly not gentle on the field. He had made Nesta eat dirt more than once, which is why Nesta thought of him as her nemesis. He was the only seeker that was better than her, which annoyed her to no end. 

“You’ve seen me play?”

Of course, she had seen him play. She didn’t care much for sports, but the way he played… It was as if he had been born to fly. Like the broom was part of him. He moved so effortlessly. He almost made it seem like an art form. “Of course,” she began but stopped herself. She couldn’t very well tell him that she only watched the games because of him. “Nesta, my sister. She’s in…”

“Slytherin, I know. She’s the reason why I haven’t seen Cassian in weeks. She’s a great player though, I’ll give her that.”

Not as good as you, Elain thought. 

Silence fell between them once more and Elain was surprised to find that it didn’t feel awkward. Usually when conversation stalled, she felt the need to somehow keep the conversation going. But with Azriel, silence felt almost natural. Comfortable. 

“What now?” he asked when the roots had turned into a powder. “Is this enough?” 

“Almost,” Elain walked over to the rows of asphodel they had planted at the beginning of the year. She picked a few petals from one of the flowers and walked back to Azriel. She dropped three petals into the mortar. 

“There is no mention of it in any book, but I have found that if you put a small part of the flower with the roots, the powder will be more potent.”

She felt him watching her and dared to glance up at him again. There was a gentle smile on his lips and his eyes were so kind. She wanted to drown in them. “I didn’t know that,” he said, his voice curious. “Then again, I stopped taking herbology last year. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

Elain returned his smile but said nothing. She had no idea how to respond to that. She didn’t understand how anyone could find herbology boring or unnecessary. 

“How lucky that I found an expert on the topic,” Azriel continued. 

“I wouldn’t call myself an expert,” she said under her breath. 

“I think you’re selling yourself short, then.” 

She felt herself grow warm from the compliment. She knew that she was good at herbology, but hearing it from him was different than hearing it from classmates or her professor. She was definitely not getting over her crush anytime soon if he continued being so kind to her. 

She cleared her throat. “Now you need to ground the flowers into the powder,” she pointed at the white petals. They were such a stark contrast to the dark powder of the roots. “Gently,” she added.

“Gently,” he repeated and followed her instructions. She watched the white petals turn darker with each press of the pestle and it reminded her of a story she had read in a book back home. 

“Did you know that even in muggle mythology, asphodel has been associated with death since it was believed to grow in the underworld?”

“I did not know that, no.” The curious tone in his voice made her want to continue. 

“Well, there is this story in Greek mythology, about Hades and Persephone–”

“Hades,” Azriel interrupted. “He was the god of the underworld, right?”

“Yes, exactly. According to the myths, he kidnapped Persephone and forced her to be his bride. However, some say that Persephone later fell in love with Hades and chose to stay with him - which obviously makes the story more romantic.”

Azriel hummed. “The god of the underworld and his bride of spring. Death and rebirth,” he said. “It’s quite poetic.”

She smiled at him. “It really is.” She had always loved the story of Persephone and Hades. As a child, she used to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and read that story over and over again. “So, in Greek mythology, there were three layers of the underworld. If you were a bad person, you would go to Tartarus after death. If you ended up there, you were doomed to suffer for an eternity. Heroes went to Elysium. But since most people weren’t bad enough to go to Tartarus, nor good enough to end up in Elysium, most mortals went to the Asphodel Fields when they died. They would forget their previous lives and live in eternal mindlessness.”

“Eternal mindlessness? I’m not sure that’s better than torture,” Azriel muttered. 

Elain laughed. “Spoken like a true Ravenclaw.”

“I’m guessing you would prefer the Asphodel meadows?” 

Elain laughed. “Yes, I would rather spend eternity in a field of Asphodel than in hell being tortured.”

“Fair enough.”

“The Asphodel later became a symbol for Persephone. It is a flower that grows in spring and many muggle artists over the years depicted her wearing a garland of asphodel – a sign of life even in death,” she continued. “I loved reading about this as a child and the more I learned about magic, the more I thought that muggle mythology might be rooted in magic. I mean, for centuries, we have known what kind of powers asphodel holds and what it can be used for. Maybe some of the old Greeks were actually wizards, and the myths were just a way to explain the inexplicable to muggles?”

Azriel hummed again, his motions coming to a halt. The powder in the mortar had turned gray. Elain felt self-conscious all of a sudden. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him all of that. He didn’t come here to get a lecture on Greek mythology. 

“They should have taught us more about mythology in muggle studies. This is definitely more interesting than learning about phones and the internet,” Azriel said, and even though it made her feel a bit better, she still felt foolish for rambling on and on about death and the afterlife like that. Most people weren’t as interested in myths as plants as she was. 

“I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous,” she said under her breath. 

There was a beat of silence again and she could have sworn she felt the shadows move around them. 

“Do I make you nervous?” 

“Yes,” she answered without thinking and winced as soon as the word left her mouth. She did not intend to admit that. 

“I’m sorry,” Azriel said. There was a sincere gentleness to his voice now which made her feel even more foolish. 

“Oh, no,” she added quickly. “I mean, many things make me nervous. My mother always said that I have a nervous soul.” She added that last part in an effort to lighten the mood but she was quite certain she was unsuccessful. 

But then Azriel spoke. “Well, I happen to love it when people talk about things they're passionate about, so please, continue.”

She didn’t know if he only said it to make her feel better, but the words settled somewhere inside of her, making her feel at ease again. She was grateful for his kindness. 

“I think I told you everything I know about asphodel in Greek mythology.”

She looked at him again and this time, she didn’t feel the need to look away when he met her gaze. “Will there be a quiz?” he asked and gave her a playful smirk. 

“Maybe.”

“When?”

She had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling. “When you least expect it.”

“I look forward to it.” 

How very Ravenclaw of him…

Elain reached into her apron and produced an empty vial. “You can put the powder in here.”

He took the vial from her and this time he let his fingers linger on hers for just a second too long to be an accident. 

“So we’re done?”

“It’s perfect,” Elain told him. “But be careful with it. Remember that it’s stronger, so you might need to use a bit less than the recipe calls for.”

He nodded and pulled out a knife from beneath his cloak. With the edge of his knife, he scraped up the powder and carefully put it in the small vial. 

Elain stared at the dark blade. “And here you were telling me that you should be scared of my scissors when you’re the one carrying a knife.”

A small laugh escaped him. “Seeing that every single person in this school has a wand, I would say that we’re all carrying weapons of some sort. Any object can be a weapon, as long as you know how to wield it. Even a pair of scissors. Or a fork.”

“A fork?” Elain laughed. 

“Yes,” Azriel watched her with a serious expression on his face. “I once saw a man stab another man right through his hand with a fork. One moment, it was just a utensil, and the next – a weapon.” 

“Maybe I should start carrying a fork with me? You know, for protection,” she teased. 

“One can never be too careful.” Azriel held up the vial and inspected its content. “Thank you for this. It will be invaluable.”

“I’m just glad I could help” And I’m also very glad I got to spend time with you. 

Azriel put the vial in his pocket. “I’m very glad you were here. It’s known to be quite difficult to get into the greenhouse after dark.” He looked at her in challenge – as if asking how she had been able to get in. 

She pulled out the key she kept in a chain around her neck and raised her chin. “Not if you have a key.”

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up. “Where did you get that?”

“Professor Longbottom gave it to me.”

A feline grin spread across his face. “Teacher’s pet.”

Elain laughed. Damn him - why did he have to be kind and polite and funny. It’s not like her crush wasn’t bad enough before. “At least I’m not the headmistress’ pet.”

He rolled his eyes. “She only likes me because I’m good at Quidditch. We all know that McGonagall is a huge Quidditch nerd.”

“Did you just call the headmistress a nerd?”

“Of course not,” he said and shook his head. “What would ever give you such ideas?”

Still smiling, Elain whispered, “Your secret is safe with me.”

He laughed again and Elain wished she could bottle that sound. She had only ever seen him look serious – she had almost imagined that he was incapable of laughter. But here he was - joking and laughing with her. She didn’t know what to think of it. 

Azriel looked up. Moonlight was streaming through the windows now. It was late. 

Too late. 

Shit, they had stayed out after curfew. Elain felt a slight jolt of panic at the thought. She had never broken a rule before. They had to get back before they were caught out here. Professor Longbottom had made it very clear that no one was to know that he had given her a key to the greenhouse. 

As if he could read her mind, Azriel said, “It’s late. I guess we should get back,” but he made no move to leave. They just stood there, watching each other. She had no idea what to say, she just knew that she wanted to stay here with him just a little bit longer. 

“Thank you for teaching me everything there is to know about asphodel, and then some. If I don’t get an outstanding in potions, I’m blaming you.”

“Hey, I only gave you the ingredient. If you don’t know how to use it, it’s not my fault.”

“Oh, I know how to use it.” She was used to seeing his cocky confidence on the Quidditch field, but up close, it was even more attractive. 

“Again, I’m sorry for the lecture about muggle mythology,” she said and picked up her cloak from where she had left it on the floor. She threw it over her shoulders just to have something to do with her hands. He was still looking at her and the attention felt too much all of a sudden. 

“Don’t be sorry. As a Ravenclaw, I’m usually the one giving lectures and helping people with homework. It felt a bit odd being the one needing help.”

“You could help me write my essay for Care of Magical Creatures if that will make you feel better,” she joked.

She was surprised when he didn’t turn her down right away. She had meant it as a joke, but he sounded sincere when he asked, “What’s it about?”

She felt a giant smile form on her lips at the question. As a Ravenclaw, he was going to hate the essay topic she had chosen. “Crumple-Horned Snorkacks - are they real?”

He snorted, “Everyone knows that Xenophilius Lovegood made them up. Not even his own daughter could find them and she looked for years.”

Elain was quite certain that crumple-horned snorkacks didn’t exist, but he didn’t have to know that. “Just because they cannot be seen, doesn’t mean that they don’t exist.”

He hummed as if he was actually considering that as a valid argument. “You know what, meet me in the library tomorrow after class and we’ll see who’s right.”

“Are we going to hunt for crumple-horned snorkacks in the library?” she laughed. 

“Try saying crumple-horned snorkack five times fast,” Azriel said, which made her laugh even harder. 

“I’d rather not. Maybe that’s how you make them appear? I couldn’t risk summoning one in the greenhouse. Professor Longbottom would surely take back the key if I did.”

He laughed. “Let’s try it tomorrow then. But if it works, you’ll have to explain yourself to the poor librarian.”

“Deal.” Elain had to pinch her arm underneath her cloak just to make sure this wasn’t a dream. Did Azriel just ask her to spend time with him tomorrow? This was like all of her dreams coming true. 

Azriel reached for the lantern. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the castle.”

When Elain had locked the door to the greenhouse, she turned around and found Azriel holding his arm out for her. “It can be a bit difficult to walk over the grounds in the dark,” he explained. She had never once found it difficult, but she was not about to pass up an opportunity to touch him. She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and let him lead her up to the castle. When they were safely inside, she took a deep breath before letting go. Once again, his scent filled her and made her feel all warm inside. She wondered what she smelled like to him – probably dirt and sweat after spending a few hours in the greenhouse. She winced at the thought. She was definitely having a shower before meeting him in the library tomorrow. 

Azriel blew out the candle and handed the lantern back to Elain. “Don’t get caught,” he whispered and took a step towards the stairs. He patted the pocket where he kept the vial of powdered root of asphodel. “Thanks again. I’ll see you tomorrow, Elain.”

“See you tomorrow, Azriel.”

Elain walked on clouds all the way to the Hufflepuff common room. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought that she was under the influence of Felix Felicis this evening. Not only did she finally get to talk to Azriel, but she also managed to get back to her dormitory without being seen.

As she climbed into bed, she thought back to his last words to her. “See you tomorrow, Elain.”

It was odd, Elain thought. She had never told him her name. 

Elain fell asleep with a smile on her lips and dreamt of nigh-chilled mist and asphodel meadows. 

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