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Jean and Eren had gotten together when they were in fourth year.
Before that, they often acted like typical rivals you’d often see in novels. They hexed each other, fought every time they met, and they rarely called each other by their name. That’s why it was a shock to the whole school when the two appeared one morning, holding hands and acting like a…
A couple.
Well, sort of.
“Eren, I don’t like waffles.”
“Open your mouth.”
“Wha—mmph!”
… Kind of?
“Shouldn’t you sit with the Slytherins? It is Gryffindor vs Slytherin today.”
“Is it?” Eren glanced at the brooding Slytherin Quidditch team at the other side. “Well then, I bet you’ll lose—”
“You little—”
“—because you aren’t eating enough! Here! Take some waffles!” Eren paused, before reluctantly saying, “And I’ll kiss you if you win.”
Anyway, they were a couple. Period.
Today was Valentine's day.
“Here.”
Jean stared at the box of chocolates.
“Huh?” He said unintelligently.
“I’ll take it if he doesn’t,” Mikasa piped up.
Eren sighed. “Yeah, okay.” He didn’t notice Mikasa punching the air in victory, and by the time he turned his head back to Jean, the other’s betrayed face had been wiped off, leaving nothing but a blank expression.
“T-today’s Valentine’s day,” Eren began, blushing. “A-and, we-well, take this!” He blindly threw the box at Jean with all his might.
And had Jean been standing a meter or two away, he probably would have been able to catch it with ease. However, Jean had been standing in front of Eren, face to face, so when Eren threw the box, it hit his chest before he could react. Painfully.
So painfully that the box Jean had attempted to hide behind his back flew out of grasp, only to fall to the ground.
Right next to Eren’s feet.
“J-Jean?”
Jean blushed, darting his eyes away from the brunet. “U-uh, I can e-explain.” He coughed.
When he looked up, he was instantly met with Eren’s worried face, right in front of him. His doe-like green eyes that sparkled brighter than any emerald (wow, poetic), his dark brown hair that curled and framed his face, and his Slytherin robes that accentuated all of his best features. (since when did Jean become such a sap?)
He was nearing Eren’s face, watching, as the brunet’s eyes fluttered closed when—
“Merlin, take Jean to the hospital wing! He’s bleeding!”
Eren was an idiot.
Who the hell commands a group of snakes (literal snakes, not Slytherins) to sing to Jean, just so he could ask him out to Hogsmead?
Well, Eren, apparently.
Jean had been eating breakfast when the doors to the Great Hall slammed open (were they not open before?) and he was absolutely mortified when Eren came, commanding groups of snakes, and then came to the Gryffindor table. And worse, before he could ask anything, Eren hissed some otherworldly instruction, and then the snakes began to sing.
Literally.
Not just random singing, but actual melodies and rhythm. And in tandem.
Had Eren been practicing with these snakes?
But it would also explain Eren’s periodic disappearance.
Wait…
“You’re a parselmouth?!”
“He’s looks great in my robes,” Jean said to his Quidditch teammates.
The others stared at him, unimpressed.
“What?” Jean said defensively. He turned back to Eren and gave him a dopey smile. “He’s very attractive—if only he was a Gryffindor.” He looked wistful at the prospect.
Levi coughed. “Weren’t you just telling us that he looked ugly with his—according to you—‘bushy eyebrows’ and ‘chapped lips’?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jean paused when the other teammates—especially Oluo—vocally shared their agreement with Levi’s statement.
“I did?” He asked. And at the other’s nods, he simply nodded and said, “Oh.”
“Besides,” Levi continued, “The day a Yeager enters Gryffindor is the day hell freezes over, no matter how brash the youngest is,” his expression darkened for a moment before he muttered, “Damn ape.”
Petra looked at Jean, who looked at Levi, who looked at Oluo, who looked at Eld, who looked at Gunther.
“Uh,” Gunther said awkwardly. “I think you should go visit him.” He glanced at Levi for confirmation.
“Yeah,” Levi agreed, nodding. “Go play with your lover.”
“But I’m a Keeper?”
“Go.”
Who was he to refuse?
“Yessir.”
So Jean went with a broom in one hand and ran towards the stands. He waved his hands at Eren, who looked a little confusedly at him before smiling—and gosh, was that smile sweet.
“What happened?” Eren asked. His brows furrowed worriedly, and Jean wanted to take back whatever statement of his brows being ‘bushy’.
No, they were perfect.
However, instead of saying that—anything about Eren’s looks—Jean shrugged. “Dunno. Captain told me to go to you.”
He took the time that Eren used to think to stare at him appraisingly. The brunet’s hair seemed to not have been brushed and Jean could see that his tie was askew—which had a plausible explanation, and it was because Eren had attempted to wake up early in the morning to visit Jean’s Quidditch practice. And judging from the shivering figure and the lack of any warm robes (or scarves), he had deduced that his boyfriend had been half asleep, and disregarded everything besides a vest.
Which is why Jean, the ever kind boyfriend, handed his own Gryffindor robe (re: thrown) to the other boy.
“Take this,” he had said. “And don’t forget your's next time.”
“Shut up! I like you—die.”
“Hah? I hate you—me too.”
Magic crackled in the air as Eren and Jean glared at each other. One of their hands were intertwined as their other hand held their wand, which was pointed at each other.
“Besides,” Jean scoffed. “Who’d like to date a Slytherin like you?”
Eren snorted. “Stupid Gryffindors,” he retorted. “Don’t know what people see in them.”
The two paused to stare at each other, before:
“Say that again!” They yelled at each other in tandem,
Armin sighed for the umpteenth time of the day. His hair was messed, his glasses were crooked, and he was reading his book upside down as he stared at the duo warily.
The two had been going after each other—both romantic and non-romantic—for the past thirty minutes, and it was only natural that Armin was exasperated at their antics. And it wasn’t only Armin. Sasha, who was focused on eating her snacks now watched the two were an unimpressed expression, and Mikasa just glared at Jean as if she wanted to castrate him. She probably did.
Connie snorted loudly before fumbling awake. “Where am I- oh,” he yawned, putting his head back on the table. “Wake me when they’ve shut up.”
“We won’t,” Armin said cheerfully. He glanced at Eren. “Unless they quit it. But they probably won’t.”
Sasha sighed. “Is this even considered flirting?” She asked. “They’re just putting sappy words in between insults.”
“It’s not,” Mikasa answered. “It’s called a Confundus.”
“Oh, for Merlin’s sake—”
“It’s a Confundus,” Mikasa said resolutely. “So we must castrate Jean.”
“Confundus doesn’t work that way—put that knife down, Mikasa, you won’t be castrating anyone in this room.”
Mikasa paused before nodding. “Yes,” she agreed. “I’ll get caught.”
“You don’t care.”
“You’re right,” she stood up with a knife in her hand. “I don’t care.”
“Mikasa!”
“They’re kissing,” Sasha informed them.
Armin turned.
Away from the couple.
“Tell me when they stop,” Armin requested.
Sasha scrunched up her face in disgust. “You think I’m going to watch them?”
“Yes,” Armin answered bluntly.
“Wrong,” Sasha stated. “I don’t like watching people snog.”
Armin grabbed Mikasa’s robes when he spotted her moving out of the corner of his eye.
“Please don’t,” Armin pleaded. “You know I suck at Defence without you. Why can’t you—” he gestured towards Jean. “—do it later?”
“I’m a Gryffindor,” Mikasa stated flatly. “And we are hot-headed.”
“A Gryffindor that hangs out with two Hufflepuffs, one Ravenclaw, and one Slytherin.”
“So does Jean?”
Armin looked at Sasha. “Not helping,” he said.
Sasha glanced at the couple. “Oh, they stopped kissing.”
“Thank Merlin.”