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Yann Fredericks sat, alone, at dinner. And this wasn’t the first time. All of his friends - ALL of his friends, were at rehearsals. Again. Yann regretfully spooned some mash potato onto his plate with a forlorn sigh. His second helping. He was drowning in mash potato and the fear of missing out.
Rose Granger Weasley rounded the corner into the dining hall and he sighed in relief, waving her over. Rose plopped down on the bench opposite, wearing her gryffindor red work out gear - (they were allowed to have whatever colour they wanted, but Rose was Rose) and shook her head. “I really don’t think we’ll be ready in time.”
“You’ve still got a week left!” Yann reminded her. Rose sighed unhappily and pulled out her script, all the Titania lines perfectly underlined. Loudly, she began reciting a speech word for word with her eyes closed. She really was a carbon copy of her Mother, with slightly redder hair.
“Is everyone finished?” Yann inquired hopefully.
“No, Polly has to stay back. Sophia said she wanted to do some monologue stuff.” Rose said, with a knowing look.
Yann nodded, trying so desperately to have an air of complete calm. He was so focussed on being so totally normal and calm that he didn’t notice Karl had joined them until he was hit cheerfully on the back and almost choked on his mouthful of mash.
“I really think we’re going to be ready ahead of schedule!” Karl chirped, spooning four helpings of mash onto his plate. Yann nodded at him hopefully, Karl was ever the optimist.
“I wish you could be there too, Yann.”
Yann grimaced softly, he wished he could be there too. But under instruction from the newest Head Boy, James Potter, he had decided against auditioning for Sophia’s project.
“All I’m saying, mate, is that they look at everything. Not just quidditch achievements.” James had said soundly, as they changed after practise. “So make sure by the end of sixth year you’ve got a shit tonne of good predicted grades for your NEWTs.”
Yann had nodded sagely at the red haired boy, who looked a hell of a lot older now. More masculine. Yann hoped he wasn’t looking too intensely. “But how do they even choose?”
“I just said to McGonagall that I was interested… and she said she’d think about it. Clearly she thought I was a perfect fit!”
“Or she just couldn’t think of anyone else.” Albus Potter had countered as he walked into the changing room for practice.
James stuck his middle finger up at his brother without a second thought which prompted an indignant noise from Albus. “Yann, if you want to be Head Boy, just ask to be considered. McGonagall loves you.”
“I can’t just ASK! Are you kidding? I’d rather sink into a hole and die than ever ask for anything like that!” Yann exclaimed.
“You do just have to be extremely impressive at everything then.” Albus said soundly, “That shouldn’t be too hard for you.”
Yann narrowed his eyes at his friend. “That was a bit too nice of you.”
“You’re a self obsessed prick.”
“That's better!” Yann kissed Albus’ cheek as he left, “See you at dinner!”
The same Potter joined him at the table now, in his joggers and one of his Mum's vintage Puddlemere Quidditch Team hoodies. “Stupid fucking play.. stupid fucking wall.”
“Hmm?” Yann murmured.
“Nobody told me that my character's main lines are me pretending to be a wall! I thought when Sophia asked me to be involved that meant she thought I’d be good at the serious bits!”
“Oh Albus, did you really not know the plot of Midsummer Nights Dream?” Karl said only a little bit patronisingly.
“I MISSED the table read!” Albus indignantly exclaimed. Yann let a smile break across his face.
“Al, you are the only person I know who would be cast in a play and then not read the play.” Rose said despairingly.
“Have you got to the bit where you have to make out with Quince yet?” Karl said evilly.
Albus blanched, “No?!”
Karl was seriously considering how far he could get with this wind up, but Rose put an end to it pretty quickly - “That doesn’t happen in the script, Albus. But with Sophia's directorial choices, who knows what could happen in the final scene.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yann chirped, finishing his food.
“Polly and-” Karl began before he was very obviously kicked under the table by a fuming Granger-Weasley.
“Polly and who?” Yann tried- but Karl was now deadly silent.
“You’ll see!” Rose said, a mischievous glint in her eye.
As soon as Polly had told him that she had been cast as Hermia, Yann had immediately taken out the script from the library and was slightly horrified to see her character classed as one of the ‘lovers’ of the play. Yann guessed this meant Polly was going to kiss someone in the play. Which was totally fine and cool with Yann, because Yann was a totally fine and cool guy who had no control over Polly or who she kissed. And why would he?
They were just friends. as Polly had told him so many times before.
Yann waved goodbye to the dinner table and headed back up to the library, where he felt he spent his whole life. In his small nook, he settled down to read his advanced potions book, making notes as he went. It took him a bit longer, sometimes the words squished together on the page and mixed and matched. He supposed that was why exams were ever so slightly harder for him than they were for other people. And why he was so stressed he would screw up his predicted grades, and with that his chance at being Head boy. If Yann thought about it too much, it made him feel slightly dizzy.
After a couple of hours, the words became so intermixed that Yann knew this was no longer productive. Sighing, he put his books back onto their shelves and packed the rest into his satchel. Heading through the courtyard, he glanced towards Craig's tree, as he always did. It was getting on for two years, now, and flourishing more than ever. Underneath it, on its old rickety bench, sat Polly, a lantern beside her.
Yann immediately melted.
Looking up at the noise, Polly smiled at her friend and beckoned him over. Yann went under the arched opening and grinned at her.
“Hello you.” She chirped, “Late night library again?”
“Pol, it's like 8.30. That's a totally normal time to be studying until.”
Polly humphed, “I feel like I barely see you anymore.”
Her hair was in a gentle plait down her right shoulder and she wore one of Karls big jumpers, she was grabbing onto the bottom of the sleeves as she often did to comfort herself. She took his hand and pulled him down onto the bench with her.
Yann tried so desperately to do anything other than just stare at their conjoined hands.
“How is the play going?” Yann asked dutifully.
“Oh! It's - great. I think! Sophia is a natural leader. She’s doing loads of fun stuff to it.”
Yann hummed, looking over the valley, seeing Hagrid's hut, warm firelight in the windows. This had been Craig's favourite place to sit, to watch the sun go down, so when the three were asked where his memorial should be, it seemed like the most natural place. Years before, Yann had confessed his undying love of Polly to Craig (to which he replied, “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”) right here, on this bench. A bench that had now been enchanted to never rot or break more than it had been when Craig was alive, so it would always be here, just the way Craig had known it.
Yann opened his mouth to say something before thinking better of it.
“Were you just about to make it sad?” Polly quipped.
“Maybe…”
“Don’t. I like sitting here and being happy where he was happy.”
“Noted.” Yann smiled at her. She smiled back. He couldn't stop looking at their hands.
“So. One of the lovers?” Yann said.
“Pardon?” Polly whirled around indignantly.
“In the play. You’re one of the lovers?”
“You read it?!”
“Of course I did.”
Polly smiled, “Yes. One of the lovers.”
Yann nodded, trying to seem like the totally calm guy he was, nonchalantly, very nonchalantly, he asked, “And which one… is your… y’know…”
“Yann.”
“Polly.”
“You didn’t read that much of it then.” Polly teased.
“No.” He confessed, “I tried - I got as far as the man turning into the donkey and decided maybe I should just wait to watch it.”
“I do kiss people in this play, Yann, if that's what you’re wondering.” Polly whispered. “Why? Jealous?”
Yann laughed, maybe a bit too much. “Why would I be jealous? We’re just friends. We’ve never been anything more than that.”
Polly looked staunchly at him. “Right. Exactly.”
Yann couldn’t stop himself, “That’s what you keep telling me, atleast.”
With a bitter laugh, Polly stood from the bench. “Sure, that’s what I keep telling you.”
As she walks away, Yann realises he isn’t totally sure what he has done wrong. He looks up to Craigs tree, “Any idea, mate?”
The tree stays silent.
“Glad it's not just me.” Yann pats the magnolia before heading back through the archway and up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.
For the next few days, Yann does not see Polly once. In the lead up to the play, all of his friends were occupied or too tired to hang out with him.
Yann wastes away the evenings in the Gryffindor common room, or the library if he’s desperate to be left alone. Which he is.
Polly’s words keep repeating in his head - that’s what i keep telling you, - as if Yann had ever heard anything other than friendship from Polly Chapman.
When they met on the Hogwarts Express, before Yann even knew what love was, he had loved Polly Chapman. When he was lucky enough to be sorted into the same house as her, Yann sat down with the small blonde girl, so full of attitude and vitriol, and knew that one day she would feel the same way. She just had to feel the same way.
And so, Yann waited.
Yann waited through her situationships, through her tantrums, her tears, her overwhelming kindness, helped her repair friendships, held her through her heartbreaks, just thinking: soon enough. Soon enough she’ll see that I’m right here.
That I will always be right here.
And yet, every time, he was thanked for being such a good friend.
Yann Fredericks was still waiting. He wasn’t sure when he’d ever stop.
When the evening of the play arrives, Yann has prepared himself to apologise for whatever he did wrong, because he just wants to see her again.
Sophia gives a speech to the audience as a preface for the show. The great hall has been set up as a makeshift stage, with the audience sitting on stools and benches facing towards where the teachers normally sat. Across the hall, enchanted shrubbery and flowers were creeping up the walls and covering the windows. Beneath their feet, grass and wildflowers sprung from the stone floor. Yann was absolutely obsessed with the drama of it all, his heart ached that he didn’t get to be a part of it. Sophia thanked Professor McGonagall for “embracing new ideas and plays of the muggle world,” looking extremely proud of herself as she took her seat right in the front row.
The candles in the great hall dimmed down and blew out. The play began.
Dressed in a white flowing cotton dress, Polly lamented about her failing marriage plans and her plan to run away to the forests with her love, Lysander. Polly spoke the unnatural prose as if she was saying the simplest, most sensible things in the world. Her blonde hair trailed down her back and collected just above her hips. Yann couldn’t really catch his breath until she exited and he was greeted by Karl playing a self obsessed actor with Albus (looking absolutely miserable) and a gang of merry friends following alongside him. Karl, as always, was stealing people's hearts, even when he was playing a selfish actor. Albus, with his two lines, kept looking scornfully over to his boyfriend at the stage manager's desk. Scorpius looked like he was trying to stop himself from bursting into laughter.
By the time that the interval began, Yann was about to combust in his seat.
Screw just apologising, Yann was ready to jump onto the stage and state in Shakespearean prose how deeply he was in love with Polly Chapman. He was sure if he got up there he’d be able to come up with a sweeping love confession, and Polly would jump into his arms and say “Finally.” in the softest voice he’d ever heard.
When the lights went down again, Yann prepared himself to see her again. He watched as Karl, now an enchanted donkey (he didn’t understand Shakespeare, but he thanked him for this mental image) kissed Rose, a very infatuated Titania, whilst neighing. He was constantly reminded of how brilliant his friends were, and constantly surprised by them, too. And so, so proud of them.
Polly was radiant in the candle light of the stage. When the lovers are enchanted back to sleep, she fell and rested on the chest of Lysander, otherwise known as Isabella, from Hufflepuff. The crowd laughed as Albus, in the most deadpan voice, with his face cut out of a “wall” painted onto cardboard, announced “Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.” And Scorpius cheered as he walked away. At the end of the play, Polly and Isabella kissed each other deeply as they were married.
The grin melted from Yann's face before he plastered his smile back on to cheer and clap for his amazing friends. In his head, everything was twisting like the words on his potions books pages. He kept trying to remind himself that Rose and Karl had kissed too, and they didn’t fancy each other. Far from it. So the kiss between Isabella and Polly was just blocking. It was acting and that was it. He was still calming himself down when, after the play, Karl came down in a shirt and jeans with one of Craig's beanies over his head, and scuffled Yann's hair.
Yann enveloped him in a hug, “You were incredible! The funniest donkey I have ever seen!”
Karl gasped dramatically, “You really mean that?!”
“Of course! I’ve never seen a more adept and staggeringly interesting donkey in my life.”
Karl wiped a fake tear from his cheek, before giggling and hugging Yann again. Behind him, Scorpius and Albus approached, Albus still had his face painted like a wall.
“You… were fantastic.” Yann said, trying not to look him in the eye, biting his lip to stop it quivering from laughter.
“You… can shut the hell up.” Albus muttered.
“I thought you looked really cute!” Scorpius chirped.
“Did I though?” Albus chides
“Yes!”
“Of course you did!”
“Cutest wall I ever saw.” Came the responses from the three boys.
Yann swore he saw the smallest of smiles from behind Albus’ stoney exterior. A smile he normally reserved for Scorpius, or talking about Scorpius.
Behind them, arms linked with Isabellas, came Polly. Yann tried his best to act normal.
“Congratulations!” Yann hugged them both, “You were both so so incredible! I have no idea how you remembered all those words.”
“Well, we tested each other!” Isabella laughed, her hair, which had been plaited down her back for the show, was now back to its fluffy curls with her plain headband keeping it from her eyes. She looked radiant.
Polly giggled at Isabellas comment, “Thank you Yann.” She said fondly. “Are you coming to the afterparty?”
“Oh. I didn’t realise you were having one! I suppose I shouldn’t as I wasn’t actually involved-”
Yann stopped in his tracks as he heard the familiar sound of a throat being cleared behind him. Yann turned slowly, until he was face to face with Professor McGonagall. Yann remembered when she would tower over him through his first two years, but now he was slightly taller than her.
The Headmistress smiled, “Congratulations again, you lovely bunch. This was Hogwarts first play, but it won’t be its last. I will make sure of that.” She smiled at the cast, who all looked extremely proud of themselves. “Mr Fredericks, if I could have a word?”
Yann gulped and followed Professor McGonagall to the side of the hall.
“I was surprised to see you in the audience instead of the stage - I would have thought this was right up your street.” She smiled warmly.
“Oh. Well, I thought it best to focus on my studies. I’ve been having some trouble recently - I don’t want to let myself down. Or stop myself from having opportunities because I haven’t been focussing.” Yann confessed.
Professor McGonagall nodded sagely.
“Yes.” She leant in closer to him, put a hand on his shoulder, “Mr Fredericks, I’d hope your ambition to be Head Boy didn’t stop you from enjoying your sixth year here. You will be in the running no matter what your grades are, as long as you put in the work.”
James Sirius Potter, I am going to murder you. Yann thought as he looked at the Headmistress.
“Yes, Professor.” Yann murmured, his heart in his chest. She patted him and left.
Yann turned back to the group and smiled warmly. They were all happily chatting about how the performance went. Yann tried not to look at Polly, knowing she’d look radiant. And knowing he wouldn’t be able to stand it.
“So, are you coming?” Karl put his arm around Yanns shoulder.
“I wouldn’t want to impose..” He said, but there was a chorus of protesting from the group and so he went along.
Heading to the Ravenclaw common room, which Sophia had commandeered for the evening, Yann couldn’t help but notice that Polly and Isabella had not stopped linking arms. He felt jealousy bubbling up inside him as he tried to listen to Albus and Karls conversation about their costumes and how long it took to get out of them. But he couldn’t get the image of Polly kissing Isabella out of his head.
Polly had been in relationships before. So had Yann. But every relationship he’d had (of which there were two) had ended because his partner had realised how infuriatingly in love he was with Polly, and stopped it before it got too deep. Polly's relationships lasted two weeks at a time, and ended normally because Polly got bored, or because she didn’t feel like she needed a relationship. Yann had seen other people kiss Polly before. So why did this feel like the end of the world?
Entering the common room, Yann scanned around over the already thumping music: he needn't have been worried about not being in the play and coming to the afterparty, it seemed everyone in sixth year had turned up regardless if they’d seen the play or not. Yann honed in on a bottle of firewhiskey and poured himself a glass. The bright blue lights were jarring as Yann tried to feel some sense of normalcy: McGonagall was right, he had let himself stop enjoying the year, and now he felt so disconnected from his friends, from Polly, that he didn’t really know where he stood. Especially with Polly.
She looked so beautiful. Recently, she’d started cutting her soft bangs into her hair, unafraid of going wrong as she had a lotion to fix any stray cuts. It made her look more regal, more soft - more porcelain. Her winged eyeliner was soft today, instead of harsh like she normally had it for school. Plenty of blush framed her cheeks, although Yann wasn’t sure if that was makeup or the wine she was drinking contentedly whilst chatting to Sophia and Isabella.
Yann barely noticed the youngest Potter brother sidling up to him, too enthralled in the presence of her, even from across a room.
“Oi.”
“Hmm?”
“Fredericks?”
“Potter?”
“Are you staring at Polly again?” Albus waved his hand in front of Yann’s face.
“No - what do you mean again?” Yann guffawed.
“Yann, don’t kid yourself.”
“Albus. I genuinely don’t know what you mean.”
Albus gaped, “It’s like watching myself two years ago…”
Yann pushed him gently, “Polly and I are nothing like you and Scorpius.”
“How come?”
“Well, he loves you back for a start.” Yann mumbled sadly.
Albus pulled Yann to the staircase up to the dorm rooms, and sat him down.
“What happened with you two?” Albus asked gently.
Every ounce of cool and chill dripped out of Yann, “Albus I genuinely don’t know. We were talking earlier in the week and I said about how close we are as friends and then she got really upset and left me in a huff and now she’s arm in arm with a beautiful girl I’ve also just watched her make out with passionately on a stage and it's all very confusing and my heart hurts.”
For the first time in their friendship, Albus initiated a hug. Yann was a very huggy person in general, from the moment they became friends in potions class, Yann always had an arm around him at the table, or hugged him when he left, kissed him on the cheek to say thank you. It was just Yann, and whilst Albus didn’t reject these small touches, the only person Albus ever actively hugged or touched was Scorpius. He rested his head on Albus’ shoulder and let himself relax for a moment. Albus gently rubbed his hand over his back. Pulling away, he said, “Yann, have you seen the way she looks at you?”
Yann looked up into the boy's all too sincere face, “What do you mean?”
“Polly likes you, Yann.” Albus murmured.
It felt like Yann's world was imploding. He could feel ringing in his ears. “Don’t joke about this with me Albus, I can’t deal with jokes about this.” Yann whimpered, trying not to be too pitiful.
Albus grabbed his chin, and made Yann look him in the eye, “I promise you I am not joking.”
The boys smiled at each other, Albus more grinning maniacally than smiling. “So?”
The alcohol was making him confident; the two boys stood nodding at each other on the staircase for perhaps a second too long before Yann realised Albus was waiting for him to answer. “So I’m going to go and talk to Polly.”
Albus was nodding enthusiastically, whether it was because of the firewhiskey or the excitement, Yann didn’t know. Yann, unbalanced by alcohol and the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, Polly felt the same way he did tottered down the stairs, all too ungracefully for a boy who had been brought up in ballet classes. The lights were flashing even more now, more bodies dancing, way more alcohol on the table. Yann downed a shot of firewhiskey and, wincing, set out to find Polly. Turning a corner, he bumped into Karl who was holding the hand of a boy in ravenclaw, leading him out of the room. Yanns world was whirling. Then, it stopped.
Across the room, in the alcove of a window, sat Polly. As Yann started towards her, she was joined by Isabella with a bottle of wine in her hands. Polly draped her arms around Isabella's shoulders, they swayed haphazardly to the music, Polly laughing at something Isabella had said. And somehow, Yann knew what was about to happen before it did.
Isabella, placing the wine beside Polly, leant in and kissed her. There was a brief second where Polly was still, and in that second Yann could swear he felt his heart in his mouth. Then she began kissing Isabella back in earnest, putting her hands in Isabella's hair as she used her legs to pull the girl closer.
Yann felt like he was going to be sick. He knew it wasn’t because of the firewhiskey. Isabella and Polly pulled away from each other, giggling secretly as if they hadn’t been making out in the middle of a room. Polly looked across the room to her friends, her eyes landing on Yann. Yann stood there, the stillest she had ever seen him. He swore he saw Polly's lips purse as she said his name quietly. Like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. Yann had left the room before she had detached her arms from Isabella and went after him.
The worst thing about it was that Yann didn’t feel like he had the right to be angry. After all, all they had ever been was friends. he thought bitterly. Yann made it to the Fat Lady's portrait before Polly caught up with him, and by then Yann was way past rage, and just felt horrifically sad.
“Yann!” Polly exclaimed, “The pace you were walking - were you trying to win a race I didn’t know about?”
Yann stayed faced towards the entry to the Gryffindor common room. On the staircase, Polly stopped and looked at her best friend's back. “Yann?”
Polly could hear the tears in his voice. “Sorry. I just felt really unwell. I’m going to bed. Have a good time with Isabella.”
“Yann, look at me.” Polly whispered.
Yann turned to her, looking down the staircase: Isabella's red lipstick was staining her chin, her hair had been pulled into a messy ponytail and she was now holding her heels instead of wearing them. She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Polly looked up to her best friend, whose eyes and cheeks were red. His hair was especially curly today, he clearly had been running his hands through it. Sniffing, Yann said “Are you happy now? I really don’t feel well, Pol. Please.”
“I can help you! Come on, I know all the techniques. I’ll hold your hair back when you throw up.” Polly joked, starting up the stairs.
“Please don’t.” Yann held out a hand to stop her. “Just - go and have a good time.”
“Yann, I want to help you.” She said sincerely, “It’s what friends do.”
Yann laughed bitterly, a sound she’d never really heard from him before. Yann was all sunshine and calm. He didn’t hold resentment or anger, when Polly wanted to burn the world around her after Craig died, Yann was the one to hold her until the tears and anger stopped.
“Leave me alone, Polly. Please.” Yann whispered, before turning to the portrait and entering the common room.
Polly was stunned into silence. The staircase moved her way from the entryway, and all she could see was Yann's retreating figure before the portrait closed behind him. Polly sat down on the staircase as it moved downwards. Tears pricked her eyes as she passed by the Ravenclaw common room. In the darkness, she could vaguely see Karl kissing someone against a wall but nothing was processing for her, everywhere she looked she saw Yann's tear stained cheeks, his red face, she heard his disdain as he told her to leave him alone.
When she was far enough away, Polly let herself sink down to the floor, leant against a wall. And then the tears came. They didn’t stop. She didn’t understand why Yann was so upset - he had reiterated to her this week that they were just friends. She was trying so desperately to move on, and Isabella was kind, and pretty.
But she wasn’t Yann.
How was it that she was longing so badly for something she had always known she’d never have? Yann was too pure and kind to ever think about her in any way other than being friends. Every so often, she thought she saw him look at her for just a bit too long, when she was in her pyjamas, or just out of the shower - or when she came to his dorm room to say good morning. But she always dismissed it because he was always talking about how good they were as friends.
Karl had pulled himself away from the boy and told him he’d see him later, although his face was so blurry he wasn’t sure if he would. Approaching Polly with caution, he sat beside her, wrapping his jacket around her bare shoulders.
In a slightly slurred voice, he murmured “What's up buttercup?”
Polly couldn’t help but let out a small smile. “I think I’ve screwed up with Yann but I’m not totally sure how.”
“Because you kissed Isabella?”
Polly looked up at her friend, his dark curly hair falling over his eyes. “Why would he be upset about that? We’re just friends as he keeps reminding me. I’ve kissed other people before. So has he. He was kissing that George guy in Ravenclaw for weeks last year. And that's totally okaywith me! So why is he not okay with me -” she trailed off on Karls look - “What?”
Karl was absolutely dumbfounded. He had never known two people to be so intelligent but so overwhelming stupid at the same time. “Pol, seriously?”
“Yes seriously, Karl!”
“I really don’t want to spell it out to you.”
“Spell what out?”
“Yanns been feeling left out, with all of us doing the play. And then he goes to a party with us for the first time in months, and he sees you linking arms with Isabella, all whilst you are barely talking to him, and then he sees you kissing her. What do you think he’s feeling?”
Polly's eyes widened, “Like he’s been replaced?”
Karl nodded, “I’m not placing the blame on you, by any means. We’ve all needed to be there for him more than we have been.”
“But why would Yann feel like someone I was kissing was replacing him?”
“Because you two are in a relationship without the fun bits.” Karl blurted, the alcohol making him more northern than normal. Polly gaped at him. He was yawning.
“I don't think-” Polly trailed off, because she couldn’t think of a defence. “Oh shit, we are!”
Karl shrugged in acceptance. “You have the arguments of a couple, you have the emotional support, the love of a relationship. You just don’t do the fun bits.”
“Yann loves me in more than a friend way?” Polly said under her breath.
“Jesus Christ.” Karl despaired.
“I need to see him. I need to tell him-” Polly started to get up, pushing away from the wall.
“No - no! Pol, not tonight. He’s probably really hurt, and you are drunk.” Karl said soundly, although his slurred words took away the gravity of the situation slightly. “Give him time to cool off. And wash your face. You have lipstick all over your chin.”
Polly nodded, although she didn’t know if she had the resolve to not knock on Yann's door. Karl gave her a kiss on the cheek before darting back into the party. Retracing her steps, Polly desperately tried to calm her breathing. She could feel her heart in her chest thumping at an unhealthy rate. She was smiling to herself as she walked up the stairs to the entrance to Gryffindor tower. Moving through the common room, she headed up the stairs and into the dorm wing. At the stop of the stairs, she stopped. Against her better judgement, she opened the door to Yann's room, hoping to find him sitting up in bed, waiting for her.
But he was asleep, curled up and hugging his pillow. She crept in, leaving her shoes at the door, kneeled by his bedside and looked at him. His breathing was shallow, his face still red from rubbing away his tears. Leaning over, she stroked the top of his head as she so often did, his messy curls soft. She swore she saw his eyes start to flicker open, so she gave him the gentlest of kisses on his forehead.
I will be here. I will always be here, as long as you’ll have me.
She stood up quietly, picking up her shoes and closing the door behind her.
The next morning, Yann wondered to himself how to go about the fact that he’d openly sobbed about Polly kissing another girl to Polly, and then that Polly had come into his room at 3am, lovingly stroked his hair and then kissed his forehead before promptly leaving.
Yann sighed into his morning coffee, sitting across a very hungover Karl at the breakfast table. Karl was shakily eating a sausage bap, taking small sips of water between each bite. Thank god it was Saturday, Yann thought. When Scorpius and Albus joined them, they both looked extremely bleary eyed and Albus had a very suspicious red mark on his neck. (Along with the remnants of the wall makeup, which hadn’t been scrubbed off completely yet.) Yann grinned at Scorpius who looked like his porridge was going to make a magical reappearance. Albus, who never ate breakfast, was trying desperately to eat a plain piece of toast.
“Well you all look very cheery.” A soft voice came from behind him. Polly came to the table and placed herself down in between Rose and Yann.
Polly, as always, looked radiant in a post-night out glow. Yann wasn’t sure how much of it was faked, but Polly always was the perkiest of them all after a night out. And here she was, acting as if nothing was wrong.
“Hello you.” Polly murmured.
“Hello.” Yann whispered.
“Are you - feeling well? Now?” Polly pressed.
“I’m feeling…better.” Yann smiled warmly.
Rose was watching them over her bowl of porridge, “Well, this is a completely normal and average breakfast without any unspoken words hanging above us all.”
She was kicked under the table by her cousin, who shook his head at her angrily. Karl coughed. Scorpius became very interested in his cup of tea.
“Christ, you all look like shit!” James Potter sidled up to the table, and Yann had never been happier to see his friend. “Good night, Al?”
Albus narrowed his eyes and tried to grab the post James was dangling above his face from him. By getting up and whacking James in the stomach, he succeeded, but not without blanching and having to sit back down.
“Yannfred, I have good news.” James grinned, scooching over his brother, whose head was on his boyfriend's shoulder, and taking a seat opposite. Yann furrowed his brow at the questionable nickname, “McGonagall told me you’re in the final two for Head boy.”
This made everyone perk up, “Your hard work paid off. And now she’s come to Alice and I to help her decide. And I will fight to the death for you.”
James Potter had never been great at tact.
“Oh, wow. That's - Thank you, James!” Yann said, trying to be more proud than embarrassed - all of his friends, bar Albus, who was out for the count, were looking at him open-mouthed.
James grinned at him, “No problem, successor. You will carry my legacy well.” Standing up, James ruffled Yann's already messy hair and left the table.
“I think I just hallucinated James Potter coming over here and telling you you’re probably going to be Head Boy next year.” Karl murmured. “I am so hungover.”
Rose looked furious, “The Head Boy and Girl can’t both be in Gryffindor. I need to up my damn game.”
“That's not a rule!” Scorpius perked up.
“I never knew you wanted to be Head Boy.” Polly said, quietly.
A chorus of “Me either” came from the group at the table. Yann’s face went red. He felt so guilty from keeping this from everyone, but if they’d known they would have asked about it and Yann didn’t want to talk about it. He just wanted to do it.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Karl asked, and Yann could tell that he was hurt.
“I didn’t want to let you down.” Yann murmured.
“How could you ever let us down?” Polly asked gently, too gently.
“I didn’t want to talk about it, because if I did, and then I didn’t get it, I’d be letting him down. So I thought it was best to just keep it to myself. I didn’t want you to be disappointed - ”
“You did it for Craig.” Scorpius, always one step ahead, finished his sentence.
Yann nodded mutely, “We’d talk about our wants and wishes on his bench, I’d talk about -” He stopped himself, trying so desperately to not look at Polly, “And he’d talk about being Head Boy, head of the quidditch team. I wanted to do it for him. Maybe I could do good for the school on his behalf. But to do that I had to get my grades up, and so I didn’t audition for the play, or hang out with you guys, because I wanted so badly to do that for him. To help him like he helped me.”
Albus reached over the table and rested his hand atop Yanns, Scorpius followed suit. Slowly, all of their hands connected over Yanns, until Pollys topped the pile. Looking around at his now sniffling friends, Yann smiled sadly. “I was doing it for him.”
“You don’t need to do anything other than be yourself to make him proud.” Karl said earnestly.
“Yeah but Yann Fredericks, Head Boy, does sound pretty fucking cool.” Albus commented.
Yann grinned at Albus, who smiled at him. He and Craig were scarily alike despite never really knowing each other.
Breakfast was beginning to end now, the food slowly disappearing from the large serving plates. Through the windows, bright sun streamed. Scorpius and Albus reluctantly pulled their hands from the pile and said they were going back to bed to sleep off the headache. The two always tended to want to be alone together after any mention of Craig, which Yann respected. What they witnessed was not something that ever left your head. Karl went to go and try to figure out which Ravenclaw he’d snogged the night before, and Rose, sensing that she was going to be a massive third wheel if she stayed, followed him with a sigh.
“Do you want to go on a walk?” Yann asked gently.
“I’d love a walk. I need fresh air.” Polly smiled.
The two walked down to the lake, bees buzzing around them, in comfortable silence. Yann had so much to say but had absolutely no idea how to bring any of it up. Polly was content to be quiet until Yann piped up, so they stood and skimmed stones on the shore for a few minutes, occasionally cheering when they got a stone further than the other.
Yann protested, “You MUST be enchanting them. There's no way you’re getting it that far without any help.”
Polly jokingly pushed him, “Yann, I am an athlete… when it comes to skimming stones. Stories have been told around the world about my skill.”
“Uh huh.” Yann chided. He paused before offering her his hand. She took it.
When they had made it back up to the castle, still hand in hand, Yann collapsed onto Craigs bench, with Polly following suit.
“Nothing like fresh air to clear the senses.” Yann commented, doing anything to fill the silence.
Over the past week, the blossoms on Craigs tree had bloomed, creating a pinkish hue over the bench as the sun shone through the flowers. It felt like Yann had pink tinted sunglasses on.
“I’m really sorry.” Polly said quietly.
Yann was baffled, “For what?”
“Kissing Isabella. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Yann furrowed his brow, “Why not? You’re allowed to kiss whoever you like.”
Yanns anger about Isabella had fizzled out as soon as Polly had kissed his forehead. He knew he’d always be in love with her, and that she would always love him in a different way. In the way that forehead kisses showed: he was a brother to her, someone to look after. And as much as it pained Yann, it was something he had to accept, because he couldn’t not have Polly in his life.
“I know. I just shouldn’t have.” Polly sighed, “I have a habit of doing exactly the wrong thing recently.”
“I know how you feel. I’ve never felt more alone in the past few months and I’d been studying so hard - and then McGonagall told me she’d have considered me either way! I could have been in the play.” Yann gushed.
“I keep going one way when I should be going another. I keep overlooking the important things.” Polly murmured. “I just - Isabella is so pretty.”
Yann winced. “Yeah. She is.”
“And I’d spent so much time with her and she made me laugh.” Polly kept going. Yann tried not to notice the feeling of his heart being torn into two.
“And we have so much in common, but-”
“But?” Yann wasn’t expecting a but.
Polly took a shaky breath, “She isn’t you.”
There was a buzzing in Yann's ears. He felt like he was about to faint. Or swoon. He didn’t know which.
“Right.” He said dumbly. “And that matters… because…” He was grasping at straws here, desperate not to get his hopes up.
“Because I’m in love with you, Yann.” Polly whispered. “I have been, for so long. I didn’t mean to push you away. Or make you think anything other than that. You just kept talking about how good we were as friends and as soon as I tried to flirt you’d shut me down or just laugh as if it was ridiculous and I -”
Polly couldn’t finish her sentence as Yann had leant in and captured her lips with his. She made a sweet high pitched noise as she kissed him back. She brought her hands to frame his face and kissed him so gently, with so much ease, as if she’d been born to kiss this boy. His lips, soft and warm, moved against hers as he placed his hands on her waist and held her to him. Polly felt the slight stubble on his chin and the warmth of his body, and as he lifted her onto his lap, she reciprocated his kiss in earnest, letting her hands fall to his shoulders.
Above them, warm wind blew through the blossoms of Craig's tree, making some drop onto the two, Yann laughed into Polly's lips.
When they eventually, painstakingly parted, they were both out of breath. Yanns cheeks were pink and his hair had become a messy bunch of curls on account of Polly's hands. His lips were slightly puffy.
“We’ve been so stupid.” Yann murmured, as if any words too loud would break the little world they had created.
“Polly, I have loved you since you came into my train carriage to tell me my tie was wonky.” Yann said soundly. Polly tried to keep her heartbeat steady, but her cheeks warmed at his confession.
“But what about - that ravenclaw kid!!”
“His name was George, Pol, you know his name was George.” Yann countered, trying to lean in and kiss her again - Polly pinched his mouth between her forefinger and thumb.
“You were always talking about how great we were as friends, Yann. How you were so lucky to be my friend.”
“In my defence, you did that too.” Yann said quietly, trying to talk through Polly's fingers.
Polly swatted him on the chest, “Only because you did!”
Yann shifted upwards and pressed his lips to Pollys again, “Does that really matter anymore?” He said against her lips.
Polly shook her head. “No.”
Yann kissed her again and she was sure she was about to combust. She reached around and put her hands in his hair, Yanns hands reaching down to rest on the top of her thighs. Polly kissed down Yann's jaw, hearing a low noise in his throat, she kissed that too. Returning to his lips, Polly slipped the tip of her tongue into his mouth -
The world was suddenly a flurry of pink: the two were covered in flowers, and completely out of their lovestruck stupor. Polly looked up to the tree, whose blossoms had shed all over them. She could almost feel the shit eating grin from her friend in the clouds.
Yann laughed, that brilliant open laugh, and the movement caused flowers to fall from his hair. She leant down to him. Kissed his cheek.
“Let's go to the great hall. Everyone will be waiting for us to start lunch.” Polly hummed.She began to stand but Yann held her there and gave her one more lingering kiss. She looked at him, slightly confused.
“I just wanted to - incase as soon as I stand up it turns out this was all a dream I’ve conjured up.”
“Dear God I hope not.” Polly laughed at him gently. She stood, offered him her hand. He took it and stood, quickly adjusting his t-shirt which had ridden up over his tummy. He paused, looking out over Craig's favourite view.
“It wasn’t a dream.”
Polly went on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “No.”
A grin spread across Yann's face.