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The first time Finn meets Poe Dameron, Finn is eleven years old and trying hard not to panic. According to the clock over the arrivals board, Finn has ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he has no idea how to do it. He tries not to notice the conspicuous lack of anyone else who looks like a student, stranded as he is in the middle of a station with a trunk he can hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a heart thumping too fast, too loudly.
He has done everything he can think of; he already asked the guard and all he got for his trouble was an odd look and a mutter about time wasters. Finn wonders if he has to get out his wand and tap the ticket inspector’s stand between platforms nine and ten, like Professor Solo did with the brick wall when they went to Diagon Alley, when a group of people pass just behind him and he sees an untidy mop of dark curls.
“Need help?”
There is a boy in front of Finn, all smiles and warm eyes. The boy looks a year or two older than him, in the awkward stage of adolescence when his limbs are gangly and out of proportion. Still, his expression is friendly and open, and Finn feels relief wash over him with just that smile.
“Yeah,” Finn says. “The thing is – well, I don’t know how to –“
“How to get onto the platform?” the boy says kindly, and Finn can only nod. “Here, let me help you.”
Before Finn can say anything, the older boy waves off his friends and stands next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders and giving him a reassuring squeeze.
“All you have to do is walk straight at that barrier,” he says, pointing at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. “Don’t stop and don’t be scared, okay?”
“I just – walk?” Finn repeats incredulously. “What if I crash into it?”
“You won’t. Hey, we can do it together, if you’re nervous.”
Finn wants to very adamantly assure the other boy that no, he isn’t nervous at all, not even the slightest bit, whatever gave you that idea? But he has to admit that the offer is comforting and the boy gives him another encouraging grin.
“Trust me?” the boy asks.
Inexplicably, Finn does.
The boy helps Finn push his trolley around and, before Finn can change his mind, they start walking toward the barrier. It’s coming nearer and nearer and suddenly they’re breaking into a heavy run. He is a foot away and Finn wants to close his eyes, preparing himself for the crash against the solid brick of the support column –
Except it isn’t solid, and they fall right through it, staggering onto another platform on the other side.
A scarlet steam engine, looking proud and brand new, is waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead says Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock, and Finn, regaining his footing, is gaping, looking about him with wide eyes.
“Everything okay there, buddy?” the other boy asks, concerned. “I know this can be overwhelming. . . .”
“No, no, I’m fine. Great, really. Thanks for all your help,” Finn says sincerely, suddenly breathless as he takes in everything around him.
“Anytime. Hey, listen, if you want, you can sit with me and my friends. There’s always plenty of room in our compartment.”
Staring at that kind, welcoming face, Finn almost says yes, but he sees the other boy’s group waving him over, people he’s never seen before and can’t imagine ever talking to – because, really, who wants to talk to the new kid, the first-year who is so obviously out of his depth? – and he finds himself shaking his head instead.
“Thanks,” Finn says, “but I can get by on my own.”
The boy frowns. “Well, if you’re sure . . . but if you ever need any help – hey, I forgot to ask, what’s your name?”
“Finn.”
“Finn, huh?” And the boy is smiling again, so wide and bright that it looks impossible to dim. “I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.”
Poe’s smile is infectious, and Finn wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from smiling back even if he tried.
“Good to meet you, Poe.”
“Good to meet you too, Finn.”
Seven minutes later, Finn is still eleven years old and trying hard not to panic, sitting in an empty compartment, alone and scared, fingers curling at the stiff fabric of his new robes. Outside, the platform is beginning to empty. Parents are giving last pieces of advice, giving one last hug. Finn can’t ignore the pit in his stomach, wishing he had someone there to see him off, to kiss his cheek and remind him to write frequently, as parents are wont.
But there is no one there for him, of course, no one to wave and smile at him proudly.
Finn looks away from the window, silently clutches at robes that feel far too big for him, and suddenly the door slides open and someone pokes her head in.
“Anyone sitting there?” she asks, pointing at the seat across Finn. “Sorry, everywhere else is full.”
Finn turns to look at the stranger – short, skinny, and looks just as lost as he feels right now, and maybe it’s this that makes him smile for the first time since he climbed aboard the train.
“Nope. Come in.”
The girl smiles back, looking immensely relieved, and slides onto the seat opposite Finn.
“I don’t know your name,” she says.
“Finn,” he tells her, extending a hand. “What’s yours?”
“I’m Rey.”
By the time he reaches the castle, Finn is convinced that he has seen enough amazing things to last a lifetime. After getting off the train, he saw horseless carriages lining themselves up to receive students, without anything pulling them or directing them at all. Finn was so astonished he almost missed Poe waving at him and the hairy dog-bear-thing calling – or, rather, roaring – for the first-years. The latter would have been difficult to do, since the hairy dog-bear-thing is a good seven or eight feet tall. Finn can’t remember his name, terrified as he was when he met the walking carpet with Professor Solo the day they dragged him off to Diagon Alley, after convincing him that yes, Finn, you’re a wizard and no, it wasn’t a joke and do I look like I‘m joking.
Said hairy dog-bear-thing is holding up a sign over his head, and Finn can’t believe it’s an effective method for gathering all the first-years. He’s surprised no one has run away screaming, not when he’s so close to doing it himself.
After they’re all shepherded onto a fleet of little wooden boats, Finn surprises himself by reaching for Rey’s hand.
Rey, predictably, glares at him.
“What are you doing?” she shrieks, her accent showing.
Finn feels the tip of his ears burning when he admits that maybe, just maybe, he needs a hand to hold and he knows it sounds stupid, but don’t laugh, okay, because maybe, just maybe, he is a tiny bit terrified and scared out of his mind right now.
His stomach is still lurching with nerves, but Rey’s eyes soften and, slowly, she extends her hand.
Their little boat glides across the lake and both Rey and Finn are silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It is perched atop a high mountain and is vast with its many turrets and towers, its windows sparkling in the starry sky.
Finn knows this is something he will never see again, no matter how many times he sees Hogwarts, so he does his best to remember this moment, embed it in his mind so he will never forget the wonder and awe. Yet, even as he does this, Finn can’t help but hope that Poe is there, with his warm eyes and easy smile, so maybe then he doesn’t have to hold Rey’s hand just to get his heart to return to its normal pace.
But then, all things considered, Rey is pretty nice, and if he’s going to face an unknown that’s as scary and exciting as Hogwarts, Finn is glad that he’s doing it with her.
When Professor Skywalker, a kind looking man with salt and pepper hair and bright eyes, calls his name, Finn feels a large fist of nerves clench in his stomach. It’s a wonder he doesn’t faint right then and there.
At least his nerves haven’t transmitted to his hands. Finn is pleased to see that his hands are completely steady, not trembling at all like they usually do when he feels like throwing up.
Finn feels the ancient fabric, rasping and dry, drop over his eyes and for a moment, he wonders about Rey, wonders if they’ll end up in the same House and, if they don’t, if he’ll ever see her again.
There is a small dismal voice whispering in his ear, and Finn is only half-listening. In the dark of the Hat, he finds himself looking over to where the Gryffindors must be, thinks of the table beneath the red and gold banner, and wonders about the first friend he has ever made sitting there. He wonders if they’ll see each other soon.
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Finn hears the Hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He takes it off and walks, legs wobbly with relief, toward the table draped in black and yellow. For a minute he is engulfed in a blur of shaking hands and pats on the back, then he looks over to Rey, who offers him a grin and a thumbs up. A glance over at the Gryffindor table rewards him with a little wave from Poe, who seems slightly disappointed but is beaming at him anyway. Finn smiles back.
Somehow, Finn can just tell, he is going to be happy here.
Finn doesn’t see Poe for a while after that, besides a few hello’s and smiles when they pass each other in the hallways. This is to be expected; after all, Poe is a year above him, and in a different House. It’s unlikely they will ever run into each other long enough to have an actual conversation. Still, Finn can’t help but be disappointed.
On the bright side, Finn’s worries that he won’t see much of Rey turns out to be completely unfounded, as she comes and sits next to him at the Hufflepuff table on the first morning.
“As if I’m going to leave you on your own,” Rey says, like it's the most absurd thing she's ever heard.
She is smiling, but Finn notices something in her that morning – there’s a fragile expression on her face, and it blindsides him with the urgent need to fold his robe around her, to hide that delicate, vulnerable look from the rest of the world.
Days pass by, and the days turn to weeks, until it’s a month since school started, and Finn almost doesn’t notice. October has barely started, but already it seems like forever. Even the owls flying in overhead, something that once nearly gave him a heart attack when they first swooped in without warning, is a sight that has become familiar to him. Hogwarts is becoming home, a feeling he has never experienced before, but now he recognizes it for what it is.
Things have just settled into a nice little routine of their classes, friends, and their little corner of the Hufflepuff table, when Rey receives her first letter. A school owl delivers it to them. It’s a pretty thing, tall and regal and golden, its feathers gleaming so brightly that Finn can’t help but wonder if it’s actually made of gold, or some other shiny metal. It won’t stop hooting though, and it’s starting to attract glares from his Housemates.
Rey hastily scribbles something at the back of the note, practically bouncing with excitement, before sending the owl off again.
“What was that all about?” Finn asks.
“Professor Skywalker asked me to come see him this afternoon,” Rey says, and she looks positively giddy that Finn stares at her in alarm. “I’m not in trouble or anything,” she assures him quickly, “he just wants me to come over for tea. Do you want to come?”
She says it so casually that Finn wonders if she spends her free time drinking tea with all the professors. It won’t surprise him if she does – even Professor Solo, their perpetually gruff Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, seems to like her. Finn swears Professor Solo even smiled at her once, all fond-like and not like he was watching her dig her own grave or something.
Finn considers the offer, but shakes his head and reminds Rey about his classes that afternoon, relieved to have an excuse.
He never knows what to say or do around Professor Skywalker. The man is a legend, as unreal and fantastic as his father before him. Finn remembers spending the summer poring over his books, learning all about the history of the Wizarding world. He’s not sure the novelty of having a living myth for a Charms professor – the last of an ancient order, a man who singlehandedly (all right, not so singlehandedly) defeated the two most powerful Dark Wizards of the century – has worn off yet. After all, how often do you meet men you can read about in books and tabloids and the Daily Prophet?
Hell, Luke Skywalker’s face is on chocolate frog cards – how weird is that?
But then, the rest of his family have their own chocolate frog cards too, and that’s probably just as weird. Finn's already lost count of the number of cards of Headmistress Organa he keeps getting. Professor Solo's cards just glare at him.
(Honestly, Finn is convinced that much of the Wizarding world’s history is just Skywalker family drama at this point. Rey tells him he's being overdramatic.)
Finn spends that afternoon out on the grounds, circling round the lake. It is a clear, breezy day, the grass rippling under his feet as he marches down the sloping lawns. The plan is to do a bit of exploring, because he has never ventured outside the castle before, and he doesn’t expect to run into anyone there.
He certainly doesn’t expect to see a fight, with Poe Dameron on the losing end. Four Slytherins against a Gryffindor – Finn knows an unfair fight when he sees one. Wands have been drawn, and hexes and jinxes cast, but there are more punches and kicking and hand-to-hand than anything else. Finn knows this not because he stopped to watch the fight unfold, but because the moment he saw Poe get knocked on the ground, he was suddenly there, blindly throwing punches himself.
Belatedly, Finn realizes, when he finds himself cornered by the older, bigger, and decidedly scary looking Slytherins, that this is probably not his brightest idea. What was he thinking, marching over there without a plan besides to punch the taller guys in green and make sure Poe is okay?
He can’t decide if it’s good that Professor Solo came when he did. On one hand, at least the fighting is over, because even Slytherins aren’t stupid enough to continue with a teacher present, but on the other hand, now he’s in trouble. Staring up at his professor and his Wookie companion – the hairy dog-bear-thing that Finn finally remembers is called Chewie – Finn thinks, this is it, this is the end. One month in school and he’s going to be expelled, kicked out because he got into a brawl over something he doesn’t even know. Any second now, Chewie is going to toss Finn over his shoulder, break his wand, erase his memory, and put him in a box to be shipped back home and Professor Solo will laugh himself to an early grave.
Death will probably be kinder.
Professor Solo sighs. His brown hair is greying at the temples, but he’s still handsome enough to have a gaggle of female students giggling and swooning after him. Finn blames the smirk.
“Fifteen points off Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, and from Slytherin. Each.” Professor Solo glares and does that thing with his hands that he does when he thinks his students are being idiots. “I’ll be damned, Dameron, if we lose the House Cup because of you.”
Poe smiles apologetically, looking abashed, and Finn gets the impression that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.
Professor Solo turns to the Slytherins. The tallest one, dark haired and skin so pale Finn doubts he’s ever seen the sun, only glares, face blank and shoulders stiff. At first, Finn is amazed, because he has never met anyone (excluding Headmistress Organa) with the audacity to stare Professor Solo down. It's only when Professor Solo gives another world weary sigh that Finn is struck with the startling realization that this has to be Ben Solo.
Finn has heard of him before - everyone has. Had Ben Solo been anyone else, he would be famous solely for existing, being the son of two of the most celebrated heroes of the Wizarding world and all, but the youngest of the Skywalker clan is also a notorious troublemaker. Finn remembers the older students joking that the second-year’s rise to fame will probably be by being, to quote Finn’s housemates, such a whiny pain in the ass.
Professor Solo looks like he’s about to say something, but his jaw snaps shut at the last second and he shakes his head. He looks so worn out that Finn finally understands what Rey means when she says Professor Solo’s eyes look like they’ve seen far too much in his life.
“Just – get out of here before I give you all detention,” Professor Solo says gruffly, and Chewie roars something, probably in agreement. “Except you, Ben. You and I are going to have a talk.”
Both father and son look like talking is the last thing they want to do, and Finn feels even more embarrassed to be there.
“You okay, buddy?” Poe asks when they’re a safe distance away from Professor Solo and the Slytherins.
Finn thinks he should probably be asking Poe that, because Finn’s hair isn’t sticking up all over the place and his nose isn’t bleeding so much that blood is dripping on his robe. Finn’s lip is split, but it’s nothing next to Poe’s cuts and bruises.
“I’ve been better,” Finn says, fishing a handkerchief from his pocket. Wordlessly, he hands the faded yellow thing over and Poe takes it gratefully, pressing it gingerly to his nose with a grimace.
They don’t say anything for a while, and there isn’t much that can be said. The walk to the hospital wing is awfully quiet, but not so quiet that Finn wants to run away in the other direction. It is when Finn realizes that this is the longest time he’s ever spent in Poe’s company, that Poe finally breaks the silence.
“Why did you help me back there?” Poe asks. He looks exhausted, but genuinely curious as though he can’t believe a first-year would come to his rescue. Frankly, Finn can’t believe it either.
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Finn says.
Poe looks at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, and Finn wonders what he said to deserve that look. Is it because he said something obvious? Like the sky is blue, the grass is green, Headmistress Organa is a badass.
But then Poe smiles, staggeringly bright against his sun tanned skin, and Finn loses his train of thought.
Organa who?
The next morning, Finn finds Poe waiting for him at his usual spot in the Hufflepuff table. Finn wonders at the change, but doesn’t question it, and is soon caught in a raucous conversation over scones and pumpkin juice, about Quidditch and Professor Skywalker’s fondness for dramatic entrances.
Poe was just in the middle of telling Finn the story of one of Ben Solo’s more memorable temper tantrums when Rey appears. Finn is laughing so hard that he can barely rasp out the introductions, but Rey takes it all in stride. She sits next to Finn, introduces herself to Poe, and joins in the conversation like she always finds Finn dying of laughter with a stranger’s arm around his shoulders.
When Poe leaves, Rey turns to him, eyebrows raised.
“What was that?” she asks.
“What was what?”
“That. That thing with Poe.”
“What thing? Poe’s a friend.” Finn says, and maybe he sounds just a bit too defensive. Not that he has anything to be defensive about, of course.
Rey doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then she nods slowly, staring at Finn with a knowing look that he will grow to hate over the months and years to come.
“Right.”
Finn decided very early on that he absolutely, irrevocably detests Potions. He decided this, with a conviction that still surprises him, on his first day, when his potion caused a small explosion that nearly tore Professor Phasma’s ear off.
Now, Finn is remembering this incident as he watches his potion turn a very startling shade of purple, even though his textbook says it’s supposed to be a clear, sparkling silver. Finn wonders if this will explode in his face like the one he made last week, and hurriedly withdraws his hand.
“How are you so good at this?” Finn mutters over his cauldron.
“I’m not that good,” Rey says, stirring at her own potion calmly, “you’re just really, really awful at brewing.” She grins at him, tongue poking out between her teeth, and Finn almost sticks his tongue out when Professor Phasma chooses that exact moment to pass by them. She takes one look at Rey’s cauldron, nods approvingly, and promptly moves on to Finn’s. Her expression turns sour so quickly that Finn is actually impressed.
“We have a lot of work to do, it seems,” she says in her usual sharp, no-nonsense tone.
“Yes, professor,” Finn mumbles, eyes downcast.
“Twenty points from Hufflepuff.”
Finn looks up so fast he swears his neck cricks. Rey and his housemates stare at her in outrage.
“But, professor –”
“And detention this evening, for talking back to a professor,” Phasma snaps, and, with her scowl and her height, she has never looked more intimidating. “Don’t make me take away twenty-five. Well? What are you all staring at? Back to your potions!”
There is a sudden rummaging for ingredients and parchment. Over the noise, Rey squeezes his hand and whispers, “It’s probably because of that fight you had yesterday. You know how she always favors her own House.”
“But it’s not fair.”
“I know,” Rey says quietly, “but don’t push it. You’ll just make it worse.”
In that moment, Finn decides that he hates Phasma with every fiber of his being, more than he can ever hate Potions and a dozen twelve inch Transfiguration essays.
That evening, Finn is pleasantly surprised to find Poe stuck in detention too.
“Phasma?” Poe asks in an appropriately grim manner that should always go with Phasma’s name.
“Phasma,” Finn says.
Poe grins and suddenly the dungeons aren’t so dark anymore.
“Well, at least I’ve got you to keep me company,” Poe says, punching Finn lightly on the arm.
Maybe detention won’t be so bad after all.
The year ends. Finn manages to pass all of his classes, although just by the skin of his teeth in Potions. Poe congratulates him and Rey for surviving the year and gives them his address, tells them to come by if they can, and don’t forget to send lots of owls, okay, buddy?
“You’re not going home for the holidays, Rey?” Poe asks innocently enough, but the smile on Rey’s face drops off completely, the corners of her lips turning downwards. Finn feels rather stupid as he finally realizes why, in all the months he has known her, Rey has never mentioned her family even once.
And maybe this is why Finn finds himself standing in the middle of his room, staring at his hastily packed trunk, five minutes before the train leaves Hogwarts. He’s supposed to be in a compartment right now, waiting for the train to move so he can get back home, except –
Except there is no home outside of Hogwarts, is there? There’s nothing waiting for him beyond the castle walls, and what was he thinking, packing all of his things when Hogwarts has become the only home he’s ever known?
This realization sends him running to Ravenclaw Tower, looking for Rey so he can tell her how he’s an idiot for even thinking of leaving, but the stupid eagle knocker won’t let him in. In the end, it is Rey who finds him, in the middle of trying to tell the knocker that no, he doesn’t know where Vanished objects go, but I’m looking for my friend, and I just need to know if she’s in there, so please –
“Finn?” Rey says, and he turns to see her eyes wide with surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going home.”
I am home is too sappy a reply, so Finn says “I came back for you,” instead, which is probably even sappier. He smiles awkwardly.
Rey is speechless, and then suddenly she’s running to him, eyes glassy with tears, and he’s wrapping his arms around her and no, Finn is not about to cry, okay.
But then Rey mumbles, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted anyone to do,” and she does it so softly that Finn almost doesn’t hear her, and okay, fine, maybe he is going to cry just a bit.
On the first day of their second-year, Finn enters his train compartment to find Rey glaring at a small cat on her lap. It’s kind of cute, with its thick, fluffy fur and large black eyes.
“Since when did you have a cat?” Finn says in greeting, sliding onto the seat across Rey.
“It’s not mine,” Rey says, sighing. “It followed me here and won’t leave me alone.”
Rey looks so exasperated that Finn laughs and reaches out to stroke the cat’s fur, but it turns away from him, purring at Rey and settling more comfortably on her lap.
“Aww, it likes you,” Finn coos.
Rey huffs and glares at the cat.
“Go away,” she hisses, but the cat is made of sterner stuff that Finn, who would have obliged.
The cat simply stares up at her, its large eyes seeming even larger, and gives the cutest, sweetest meow Finn has ever heard. Rey’s eyes soften and she sighs in surrender.
“Fine,” Rey says, sounding like she’s just lost a battle, “but in the morning, you go.”
The cat meows again and Rey strokes its white and orange fur, a soft smile on her face.
The cat doesn’t leave in the morning though, and it stays with them for almost a week. In that time, Rey warms up to the cat, cooing to it like it can understand her and letting it trail after her without protest. It doesn’t seem to like Finn all that much, simply staring at him warily every time he tries to reach out to it. He complains about this to Rey, who gathers the cat in her arms defensively.
“What are you talking about?” Rey says. “He’s an angel.”
Finn blinks and then glares at the ginger, best friend stealing ball of fur.
“I can’t believe it,” Finn says to the cat in mock disbelief, “she’s taking your side. You’re happy about this, aren’t you?”
The cat meows and sounds like it is, and Finn laughs.
Finn and Rey are in the middle of deciding on a name for the cat – because it’s been days, Rey, and we need to call it something – when it suddenly runs away from Rey and into the waiting arms of Poe, whose face lights up almost immediately when he sees what it is.
“Aww, BB-8,” Poe coos, “I thought I lost you.” He looks so happy to see it, but all Finn can think of at that moment is:
1. What kind of name is BB-8?
and
2. This is the first time Finn has seen Poe since the end of his first-year.
Poe is glowing when he finally approaches Finn and Rey, BB-8 on his heels.
“Thanks for looking after him,” Poe says warmly. “I thought I would never see him again when we got separated at King’s Cross.”
“No problem,” Rey says, but her smile looks sad and even Finn has to admit he’s going to miss that ball of fur.
Poe must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he sees you every day.”
He is true to his word. Poe joins them so often at Hufflepuff's table, even when Rey isn’t there, that Finn says he might as well change Houses.
Poe laughs. “Getting tired of me, are you Finn?”
“Maybe a little,” Finn says, smiling.
“Well, you’re always welcome at my table, if you’re looking for a change of scenery.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
That year, Poe becomes Gryffindor’s newest Chaser, and wins the first Quidditch match of the school year.
He invites Finn and Rey to the after-party in the Gryffindor common room. Rey declines in favor of her Charms homework, sending Finn that knowing look of hers before he can try to convince her, and he ends up going on his own. He draws stares from everyone there, but Poe doesn’t seem to notice, smiling that smile that always puts Finn at ease. As much as Finn sticks out like a sore thumb, his presence isn’t enough to detract the attention from the player of the hour – the new third-year Chaser who singlehandedly scored six goals in his first game.
Poe is surrounded by his teammates, who are showering him with praises and declarations of being the best flyer the team has seen in years. He takes it all with a proud but sheepish smile, clearly embarrassed by the attention. Finn has to stop himself from laughing whenever Poe glances at him, as though asking to be rescued.
“I can’t believe we didn’t find you sooner, Poe,” Jess, one of Poe’s Quidditch teammates, says. “We might actually have a chance to win the Cup this year.”
Snap grins. “Maybe Solo will even let you borrow the Falcon,” he says, clearly delighted at the idea. “Merlin knows he’ll do just about anything to beat Phasma.”
“Don’t be stupid – he never lets anyone ride the Falcon. He isn’t that desperate.”
“Are you kidding? Everyone’s desperate to beat Phasma.”
“He just can’t say anything because his son is on the team,” Poe says.
“Exactly!” Jess exclaims. “If Ben Solo can’t even ride the Falcon, what makes you think we can?”
Finn watches them interact and tries his best to become part of the wall he’s leaning on. He feels out of place in the sea of red and gold. As Poe stands there, laughing with his friends and people Finn has never met, Finn wishes he never came at all.
He doesn’t know that Poe sees him out of the corner of his eye, slipping away from the party. He doesn’t notice how Poe immediately stops talking, leaves his throng of admirers and weaves his way through the crowd to put a hand on Finn’s shoulder.
“Finn, wait –”
Finn is so surprised to see him that he blinks, for a moment unsure of what to say.
“Why are you leaving?” Poe says. “Come back to the party –”
“Don’t worry about me, Poe,” Finn says. He smiles and hopes Poe can’t see that it’s forced. “I don’t want to rain on your parade.”
“You’re not raining on anything. C’mon, you’re with me.”
Finn shakes his head and ducks away from Poe's grasp to the portrait that leads outside the common room, leaving Poe standing alone in the corridor.
Of everything Finn has seen in the Wizarding world, from goblin bankers to ridiculously tall Wookies that can rip limbs off, perhaps the strangest, most curious thing he has ever encountered is a portrait.
Anakin Skywalker’s portrait.
Dressed in a black tunic and robe customary of the Jedi Order, the man in the portrait is tall and holds a commanding presence, but looks too young for his legendary status. He never speaks, simply paces back and forth, with a dark, brooding look on his face. Sometimes students gather about his frame, looking up at the famous figure, and leave in disappointment, because he ignores even his admirers. Sometimes he’ll take out his wand, blue sparks glowing at the tip, but he doesn’t do anything, merely stands there with the air of a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Finn always passes by this portrait on his way to Charms, but he never really stopped to look until he caught Ben Solo staring up at it like it held all the answers in the galaxy. Skywalker only stared back, which is the most attention he’s ever given anyone. Finn’s been curious of the portrait ever since.
It’s this curiosity that makes Finn stop in front of the frame whenever he passes it by, despite Skywalker’s lack of response during half of his visits. The other half, Skywalker isn’t there at all, and some days Finn finds him in the portrait of an older man with a beard, laughing and looking more carefree than he ever is in his own frame.
During one of his visits, he finds Skywalker sitting with his back turned. Finn wonders if it’s the painting’s way of saying he’s tired of Finn’s gawking. He only ever stares at the portrait for a second or two before going on his way, but maybe this time he loitered for a moment too long, because he hears someone approaching him from behind.
“I have to apologize on behalf of my father. He’s always ignoring visitors.”
Finn nearly jumps out of his skin. There, standing behind him, is a man with a serene smile and wise, twinkling eyes, dressed in a robe not unlike the one in the painting.
“Hello, Father,” Professor Luke Skywalker says, nodding to his father’s portrait.
Anakin Skywalker is on his feet, nodding back before disappearing into the frame.
“Is he always that quiet?” Finn finally asks.
“No, not always,” Professor Skywalker says, and Finn is relieved to seeing him still smiling. “He just doesn’t enjoy being the center of attention anymore. Makes him uncomfortable.”
Strange. Most of the portraits in the school never shut up, always seeking attention and basking in it when it’s given.
“Does he talk to you, sir?”
“Sometimes, but not as often as you’d think.”
“Why not, sir?”
“I suppose he’s ashamed,” Professor Skywalker says gently. “His life was filled with many regrets, and I don’t think they’ll ever stop haunting him.”
Finn frowns. “Sir – Professor Skywalker? Why is he ashamed? He was a hero, wasn’t he?”
Professor Skywalker is quiet for a moment, and only then does Finn realize how personal the question is.
Professor Skywalker’s smile turns sad and his tone is the most sombre Finn has ever heard, but his eyes are still warm and kind. There’s a sadness there that Finn doesn’t expect to see as Skywalker gazes at the empty painting and finally answers, “Even heroes have regrets.”
Another question hangs in the air, unasked, unanswered: do you?
“What do you mean you’re not going to Hogsmeade?”
Finn tries to shrug off Rey’s horrified look and says in his most nonchalant tone, “Just that – I can’t go. I’ve got no one to sign my permission form.”
“Well, maybe Professor Skywalker can give you permission. I heard he’s pretty lenient with this sort of thing. Maybe he’ll let you go –”
“Skywalker isn’t here,” Finn says heavily. “He’s off on some sabbatical or something, I don’t know.”
“What? He never said anything about leaving.”
“Yeah, he does that,” Poe says, frowning. “He’s usually gone for weeks. Probably won’t be back before the Hogsmeade trip.” He puts a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Sorry, buddy.”
“Maybe I’ll just skip this trip,” Rey says. “I can always go on the next one –”
“Don’t say that,” Finn says, aghast at the thought of Rey staying behind. “The next one might not be for ages. You have to go.”
“But –”
“Go, Rey. Have fun. Just don’t forget to bring me back some chocolate frogs, okay?”
Poe stays silent, and Finn can tell that his would-be casual voice has convinced Poe as well as it did Rey – which is to say, not at all. But Finn has resigned himself to the fact he would be the only one staying behind, and he spends the following days convincing Rey of this.
On Halloween morning, Finn goes down to breakfast feeling thoroughly depressed, though doing his best to act normally.
“We’ll bring you lots of sweets back from Honeydukes,” Rey promises, looking desperately sorry for him.
“Yeah, loads,” Poe says distractedly, and Rey nudges him in the ribs.
“Don’t worry about me,” Finn says in what he hopes is an offhand voice, “I’ll see you at the feast. Have a good time.”
After they leave, Finn wanders through deserted corridors, unsure of what to do with himself, passing portraits and tapestries and trying not to think about the fun Poe and Rey must be having without him. He hears the echo of his footsteps, and the sound makes him feel utterly lonely.
It’s a while before Finn finally makes his way down to Hufflepuff Basement. He finds Poe there, sitting atop one of the barrels, and Finn is so surprised that he stands stock still until Poe sees him.
“Finn!” Poe says, running and meeting him halfway. “There you are, buddy. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Poe? You should be at Hogsmeade. What’re you doing here?”
“Waiting for you,” Poe says, flashing that easy smile of his. “C’mon, Rey’s waiting for us at Honeydukes.”
“What? Poe, you know I can’t –”
“I know a secret passage out of the castle.”
Finn’s brows are still furrowed in confusion as he follows Poe out the kitchen corridors, through empty hallways, to a passageway he never knew existed.
“This will take us to Hogsmeade?” Finn says, eyeing the dark passage apprehensively.
“Sure will,” Poe says, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with Finn. “Do you trust me?”
Surprised by the question, Finn turns to meet Poe’s gaze. Finn has heard this question before, and it feels like a lifetime ago, but his answer is still the same.
“You know I do.”
Grinning, Poe takes a step forward and motions for Finn to follow.
“How did you find this?” Finn asks, feeling his way forward in the tunnel, hands running against the wall.
“Jess and Snap told me that there are dozens of secret tunnels all over the castle. I’ve been looking for them since you said you couldn’t go to Hogsmeade.” Poe turns around to look at Finn. “Sorry I didn’t find them sooner.”
Before Finn can say anything, his hand meets wooden panels, damp and tired, that give way when he pushes them. In front of him is a cobblestone road, a back alleyway of some sort.
Poe closes the flimsy wooden door behind them, scattered pebbles crunching under his feet as he stands next to Finn.
“Have you ever had butterbeer?” Poe asks.
“What’s that?”
“I’ll show you.” Poe says, and he slips hand into Finn’s. At Finn’s questioning look, Poe says, “So you won’t get lost.”
The road is paved with spirit, the air swathed in sweet aromas of flowers and baked things, and Finn’s fingers are laced with Poe’s as he takes them deeper into the laughing town.
“This is my favorite spot in all of Hogsmeade.”
They are standing on a hill overlooking all of Hogsmeade. The sky is bleeding orange and red and gold, and the town below is on fire with crimson light. Hogwarts sits on the horizon, illuminated in gold dust, and it reminds Finn of the first time he saw the castle – the feeling of awe and wonder as he stared up at something so grand and undeniably magical.
Poe’s hand is still interlocked with Finn’s, tugging his arm downwards. Carefully, Finn follows suit, lowering himself to the ground where blades of grass tickle his legs.
“I go here every Hogsmeade trip,” Poe says, and there is a dreamy quality to his voice, as though his mind is somewhere far away. “To think, sometimes. It’s a good place to be alone.”
No, perhaps far away isn’t quite right, but Poe is content here. Finn sees it in the distant look in his eyes and the softness of his smile. Poe is pensive, but at peace, and there is a sort of calmness about him that makes Finn think that here, on this hill, at this moment, they are untouched by any worry of reality.
“What do you think about?” Finn asks after a long moment.
Poe laughs a little, glancing at Finn. “You’ll laugh.”
Finn smiles back. “I promise I won’t.”
“Well, okay – it’s nothing, really. Just silly stuff like – well – like the future, I guess.”
“The future, huh? So where does the great Poe Dameron see himself after Hogwarts?”
“I’m not sure,” Poe says, a slight frown creasing the space between his eyebrows. “I know what I love to do – I love flying. It would be nice to do that for a living.”
“But?”
“But what are my options? Professional Quidditch?”
“Poe, you’re the best damn flyer in the school. Playing professional Quidditch isn’t that impossible.”
Poe smiles humbly like he always does when he hears those words. “Thanks, Finn, but that’s not the problem.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s just – playing Quidditch – doesn’t it sound . . . meaningless? I want to do something more than that, do something meaningful with my life. Make a difference.”
“So basically you want to save the world?”
Poe laughs as Finn sends him a teasing grin. “Yeah, I guess you can say that. What about you, Finn? Want to help me save the world?”
“I don’t know, let me think on that,” Finn says, shrugging. “I haven’t really thought that far, to be honest. I can’t really see myself outside of Hogwarts.”
“I know the feeling.”
Quiet descends as a breeze passes them by. The air around them radiates a blissful contentedness, and it bathes Finn in its tranquillity.
“I haven’t shared this spot with anyone before,” Poe says after a while, his eyes on the tangerine sunset.
Finn’s heart forgets to breathe for a moment, twirling with something he can’t explain. “Thanks for showing me, Poe.”
“Anytime,” Poe says, and they share a smile.
The last of the sun’s glow spill across the town, the sky all shades of orange and pink and purple. Twilight deepens, the cloudless sky fading to black. Stars begin to come out and a half-moon rises as they make their way back to the castle.
When Poe finally lets go of his hand, Finn stands in front of the entrance of his common room, feeling a strange kind of loneliness creeping up the hems of his robe.
“I’m dead,” Finn proclaims, dropping his head on the table. “I’m gonna fail Potions and I’m never gonna graduate. I’ll be stuck here forever, probably living in some shack outside the castle, and professors are going to point at it and go, ‘That’s Old Man Finn. He failed Potions and now his life is over. Stay on Phasma’s good side, kids.’”
“You’re not going to fail Potions, Finn,” Poe says sensibly, looking amused, and how dare he stay sensible in the face of Finn’s pain?
“But I am,” Finn says gravely. “Phasma hates me.”
“Phasma hates everyone.” Which is true, so Finn can’t argue with that.
Finn raises his head and eyes Poe with a look that’s somewhere between frustration and annoyance. But Poe is still smiling and trying valiantly not to laugh at Finn’s dramatics.
“Sometimes you’re worse than Skywalker, you know that?”
“Am not,” Finn mumbles. “I’m just gonna fail.”
“You won’t. I’m here to help, aren’t I?”
“Don’t you have OWLs to worry about?”
“I’ll worry about that later. You're more important.”
Finn knows what Poe means – he does. It’s just Poe being Poe, being a good friend like always.
It still doesn’t explain why, when he hears those words, Finn’s heart does a funny stutter in his chest before going back to its normal rhythm. He doesn’t say anything about it, but his cheeks – traitors – warm so suddenly that he feels the heat coming off of him in waves.
Poe certainly doesn’t notice, too engrossed in Finn’s Potions homework. For a second there, Finn was sure Poe’s cheeks were tinged pink after he said those words.
Finn’s wrong, of course. It was probably just the light.
Poe is staring at him intently, Finn notices. It seems like Poe’s been doing that a lot lately, as if he’s continually searching for something in Finn’s face or eyes, something that Finn doesn’t know whether or not he's finding.
Finn looks away, pretending his heart isn’t pounding in his chest, because it’s better than admitting that the way Poe’s eyes dance over his face feels strange and different and inexplicable, and he doesn’t know what it means.
Later, Finn will remember his fifth-year as the one when everything went downhill.
It is the year when the whispers began – or perhaps the whispers have always been there, and are only now being heard – whispers of a Dark Wizard gathering power, of an old wizard named Snoke whose followers are rising in number. No one ever speaks of him publicly, and those who do are dismissed with a laugh and wave of a hand, the rumors written off as nothing more than gossip borne of paranoia.
Finn hears the whispers though. Only wisps of it, but he hears them all the same. In the passageways of Hogwarts, in the corridors, in his common room. He can even hear it in the Great Hall, if he strains his ears hard enough.
He’s sure the professors have heard too, but everyone ignores them when they can, like there isn’t a new threat looming ominously overhead.
But the whispers are still there, always loudest in the darkest corners, in the recesses people pretend aren’t there.
Finn hears them, and they are deafening in the silence.
Rey joins the Ravenclaw Quidditch team that year and spends the morning of her first match pale and jumpy with nerves. The Slytherins’ loud booing and hissing as every member of the Ravenclaw team enter the Great Hall do nothing to help.
At Finn’s insistence, they sit at the Ravenclaw table, where Rey receives a rousing welcome. Finn hopes the presence of her Housemates will help, but far from raising Rey’s spirits, the cheers seem to sap the last of her morale. Rey collapses onto the nearest bench looking as though she were facing her final meal.
“You’ve got to eat some breakfast.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Oh, c’mon, Rey,” Finn wheedles. “You’re going to need your strength.”
Seconds later, Poe sits down across Finn, his usual glowing smile dimming when he sees the concern on Finn’s face. Finn gestures to Rey, and Poe’s confusion melts to understanding.
“How’re you feeling?” Poe asks Rey, who is now staring into her cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown herself in them.
“She’s just nervous,” Finn says, and he and Poe share a worried look.
It takes their combined prodding and BB-8’s cuddling to convince Rey to eat something and to crack a smile. Finn can’t help but laugh at Poe’s little cheer at their success.
Finn and Poe are encouraging a slightly less despondent Rey to join her teammates to the changing rooms, when, out of the corner of his eye, Finn sees Professor Solo standing next to his son at the Slytherin table. Professor Solo says something, the corner of his lips pulled up in a small smile, and he reaches out to ruffle Ben's hair. Ben, wonders of wonders, is smiling back. Watching this small display of affection, Finn thinks Ben Solo may not be so bad after all.
Finn doesn’t dwell on this though, his mind on Rey and the Quidditch match. He is practically vibrating with excitement when he and Poe sit with the Ravenclaws. Garbed in Rey’s House colors, they blend well in the solid mass of blue and bronze.
“Okay, stay calm, stay calm,” Finn mutters.
“I am calm,” Poe says.
“I’m talking to myself.”
Poe laughs. “Relax, Finn. You’re probably more nervous than Rey right now.” He puts a reassuring hand on Finn’s shoulder and says, “She’s going to do great.”
Finn takes a deep, calming breath.
“I know she will,” he says. A fond, proud smile forms unbidden on his face.
For the second time that day, Poe’s face dims.
“So. . . you and Rey, huh?”
“What about me and Rey?”
Poe is staring at him with an expression Finn can’t read, sounding like he’s choosing his words carefully. “You really care about her.”
“Of course I do.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
“And I’m lucky to have her,” Finn says, but he is so surprised by the smile that doesn’t reach Poe’s eyes – since when do Poe’s smiles not reach his eyes? – that it comes out like a question. “She’s a good friend.”
“Just a friend?” If Finn doesn’t know any better, he’ll say Poe looks hopeful, but that doesn’t make sense, does it?
“More than a friend,” Finn says and he swears Poe’s face falls for a split second before he adds, “Sorry, Poe, but Rey’s had the title of best friend for years. Hope I didn’t get your hopes up.”
Poe’s smile is so bright that Finn must have imagined his shattered look just moments earlier. “I’ll fight her to the death for it.”
“You’ll lose.”
“True.” Poe heaves a sigh of feigned sorrow. “I guess I’ll have to settle for backup best friend then.”
Finn laughs and soon forgets the strangeness of the entire conversation. It's the last thing on his mind when Rey catches the Snitch after a spectacular fifty-foot dive, the din of cheers and applause from the Ravenclaws so deafening that Finn doesn’t remember the exchange at all.
His assessment of Ben Solo? Finn may have to rethink that.
The day after the match, word of Ben Solo’s tantrum after the Slytherin’s defeat reaches Finn’s ears. He isn’t sure if it’s true or nothing more than a silly rumor, but the Slytherins have become even more unpleasant after their loss. Even Hux, the Head Boy physically incapable of forming any expression that isn’t a sneer, is somehow sneering more potently than usual.
But it’s Rey who is the talk of the entire student body, and Finn can’t be prouder. Everywhere she goes she is followed by praises and pats on the back. Professor Solo even congratulates her after the match.
“That was one hell of a dive, kid,” he says. “And not even a scratch on you. Luke couldn’t have done it.”
Professor Skywalker, smiling serenely, agrees.
Rey doesn’t stop smiling for a week.
(Later, much later, after a particularly intense match that leaves Rey with a broken broom, Professor Solo will hand her his broomstick with nothing more than a noncommittal grunt.
“This is the Millennium Falcon?” Rey will say, awed as she stares at the broomstick in her hands. It doesn’t look as fast as the stories say, but it is silver and polished and the most beautiful thing Rey has ever laid eyes on. “This is the broom that won you the Quidditch Cup in less than fourteen seconds!”
“Twelve,” Solo will correct, and then he’ll make a face. “Fourteen,” he’ll mutter derisively.)
It is after a particularly scary Bludger incident the following year that Finn decides Quidditch ought to be banned and never mentioned or played again.
“You’re only saying that because Poe is in the hospital wing,” Rey says.
“Of course I’m only saying that because Poe is in the hospital wing,” Finn says, feeling the gnawing pit in his stomach as remembers seeing Poe getting hit by a stray Bludger, remembers the way his blood froze when he saw Poe falling from his broom, remembers how it felt to see Poe pale and unconscious and not knowing if he was going to be all right.
Rey squeezes his hand and says quietly, “He’s going to be okay. It’s Poe – he’s going to be awake and back to normal in no time.”
Finn knows this, but it doesn’t stop him from going to the hospital wing in between his classes, or staying by Poe’s bedside and listening to the slow, even sound of his breathing as he slumbers, or taking his hand to remind himself that yes, Poe is going to be fine, he’s okay, he’s all right.
But it is only when Finn sees Poe open those familiar brown eyes and lift the corner of his lips into a smile that Finn feels a wave of relief wash over him.
“Hey,” Poe says.
“Hey,” Finn says, taking Poe’s hand in his and marveling at how their fingers fit just right.
“Do you remember that time we got in a fight with Solo and his posse?”
“You got in a fight, you mean. I’m the good, model student that came to your rescue.”
“Right. That fight.”
Finn’s lips settle in a troubled frown. He was expecting a laugh, an amused grin, a quip from Poe, not short, shaky laughter and a nervous smile.
“And remember when Professor Solo and Chewie caught us? He let us off easy and just told us to leave before he changed his mind.”
Poe pauses, maybe to gauge Finn’s reaction, but Finn doesn’t understand, although he does have a fleeting memory of the incident.
“We were walking back to the castle, going to the hospital wing, I think. We were hurt pretty bad. You had these bruises and I don’t think you noticed them – and your lip was split. You looked surprised when I asked you if you were okay. I can’t remember what you said, but you gave me this handkerchief for my nose and –“
Poe chuckles nervously, realizing that he was rambling as though afraid to give Finn space to talk back. But for Finn’s part, he doesn’t know where Poe’s going with this at all.
“I realized the other day that I never gave it back to you. And – well, I – here.”
Poe takes Finn’s forearm and deposits a soft square of red cloth into his palm. Finn’s fingers automatically close around it and something warm flutters in his chest.
“Poe, you didn’t have to –” Finn breaks off, faltering when he catches the cloth’s perfume. “It smells –”
“It’s sprayed with diluted Amortentia,” Poe says. “We covered it in class a few days ago and I thought – it doesn’t have any effects, don’t worry. It just has the smell. Anyway, I figured – well –” He sighs. “I have to go to class. I’ll see you later.”
Poe disappears before Finn can thank him, head ducked and hands in his pocket as he walks briskly away. Which is just as well, because Finn isn’t sure he has the voice to say anything right now.
Finn stuffs the handkerchief deep into his pocket every morning without fail, and he isn’t sure why. As light as it is, he feels its weight keenly, so perfectly aware of its presence that he's sure it’ll burn a hole in his robes.
He doesn’t understand it. A dozen questions flies through his mind all at once when he turns it over in his hands as though waiting for it to do something that’ll explain the confusion and the mess of emotions it has brought him. A dozen questions, and even if he can somehow pinpoint one in the haze of his mind, he knows he won’t find an answer - or bring himself to admit the only possibility.
Finn shoves the handkerchief away in his pocket and races down stone corridors, trying to ignore the way it seems to grow heavier and warmer in his robe.
Because the perfume of freshly mowed grass and the smell of cinnamon and scones can’t mask the scent of Poe Dameron’s goddamn cologne.
Finn doesn’t know when his days began to feel incomplete when he didn’t see Poe’s face, or when it became impossible to listen to Poe’s laughter without joining in. He doesn’t remember the first time his heart began to drum rapidly in his chest when Poe’s hand brushed against his, and he doesn’t remember when Poe became the first one he sought when he walked into a crowded room. He doesn’t know when Poe’s voice became the only thing that could smooth away the stress of an awful Potions class, or when the very mention of Poe’s name or just the thought of him – his laugh, his hair, his smile, his eyes – began to make him smile like a fool.
Finn doesn’t when one look, one smile became enough to make him feel like he was plummeting into a never-ending sky and at the same time soaring through the air, through the endless expanse.
Finn doesn’t remember how or when, and he doesn’t know when this all came to be, but what he does remember is this:
He remembers waking up one morning, scowling at the sunshine sliding through the curtains. He remembers yawning as he walked down the hallway towards the bathroom, showering, and then getting dressed. He remembers making his way to the Great Hall, sitting at his table as he waited for Rey and Poe. He remembers pouring himself coffee, staring at the dark brown liquid inside his mug, and arriving, at that very moment, at the most mind-blowing, staggering realization of his life. It feels like an epiphany, and the force of it paralyzes him. He can hardly believe it because it’s so obvious and all this time it‘s been right in front of his face and he didn’t see it sooner.
It is at that precise moment that Finn realizes he is utterly and hopelessly in love with Poe Dameron.
Oh, fuck.
“You know,” Rey says one day while they’re doing their Defense Against the Dark Arts essay, ”it would be easier for all of us if you just asked Poe out on a date already.”
Finn responds by staring at her with eyes so wide it’s a wonder they don’t fall off. He opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again, before finding enough of his words to splutter incoherently for what he’s sure is a solid minute.
“Finn –”
“I – what? What? Poe is – there’s nothing – I – what?” he is able to say at last, and unfortunately this is the closest to coherence he is currently able.
Rey heaves a longsuffering sigh. “Don’t try to deny it, Finn. You know what I’m talking about –”
“But I don’t!”
“You can’t be that oblivious to the unresolved sexual tension that’s been going on for –”
“Unresolved – Rey.” Finn’s face burns, and he’s sure Rey can feel the heat emanating from him.
Rey softens, looking at Finn in a way he can only describe as pityingly, since he isn’t feeling so charitable at the moment. “Look, Finn,” she says. Her voice is soft, comforting, almost motherly. He hates her. A little bit. “We both know you have feelings for Poe.”
Finn almost opens his mouth to deny it, but he reins in the words before they could slip their leash. There really is no point in lying to himself or to Rey – she knew before he ever figured it out, and denying it would be a waste of breath.
“And Poe has feelings for you –”
Finn looks up at her, feeling something like hope flare up in his chest. “Poe has feelings for me?”
“Yes, he does. Can’t you see it?”
He doesn’t say anything, quelling that little flame of hope before it burns any brighter and he starts believing in an impossibility.
“Just think about it, okay?” Rey says, placing her hand over his and giving him an encouraging smile, and then returns to her essay, leaving no room for further discussion on the topic.
Finn tries to go back to his homework too, but the words aren’t coming to him, not when Poe’s scent lingers on the handkerchief tucked in his pocket. All he can think of is dark curls and bright eyes and that disarming smile that shatters the breath in his chest, and he can’t help but wonder, what if, maybe –
He puts his quill down and stuffs his parchment back in his bag.
“I’m gonna go back to the common room,” Finn mumbles, and then walks away as quickly as he can before Rey can say anything.
Solo never reads those essays anyway.
Sixth year is the year it all goes to hell.
Snoke is real, Phasma is a traitor, and Ben Solo –
Ben Solo is no more. There is only Kylo Ren and his Knights and Snoke’s followers garbed in black, masks over their faces and wands aimed to kill.
It is a battlefield – a warzone so full of pandemonium and destruction that not even the very worst of Finn’s nightmares could have prepared him for this. Bright beams of multicolored lights fly from every direction, hitting walls and floors and glowing shields and –
And people.
Bodies on the ground, from both sides, pale and unmoving. Faces of Housemates and classmates and friends, staring up at the sky, lifeless, motionless, unblinking. Blood and smoke and the smell of copper in the air –
It is madness and chaos. Finn never thought he would see so much death.
But Rey is running towards the battlefield, her face strong and fearless, sparks of light streaming from the tip of her wand.
And of course Finn – Finn, who is as Hufflepuff as they come – is running after her, hot on her heels, and soon they are in the middle of the fray.
Finn doesn’t know how long he stood there, drinking in the scene. It couldn’t have lasted more than a second, but every detail – every movement, every scream – is imprinted in his memory, and he knows it is a scene that will haunt him forever.
Ben – Kylo Ren, with his mask and black robes billowing behind him, his hand held out in front of him.
“Crucio.”
The curse, the word spoken barely above a whisper. A flash of red light. And Poe –
Poe, writhing through the air like a drowning man. Poe, thrashing and howling in pain. Poe, screaming so loud that Finn can feel his world shake.
And Finn doesn’t think – he simply acts, leaping into the action with his wand in hand and every jinx and hex and curse he knows on his lips, because this is Poe and for Finn, this is reason enough.
“I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.”
The voice is torn, broken and vulnerable, and Finn can hear the conflict behind those words. Kylo Ren’s face is blank, but tears glisten in his stoic eyes.
“Will you help me?”
Finn stands imprisoned within his paralyzed body, hands on Rey’s arms as he holds her back, the sounds of the distant battle barely reaching his ears. In front of him, Han Solo’s eyes never leave his son’s face as he steps forward, as though slowly reaching out.
“Yes. Anything.”
Kylo Ren gazes for a moment at Solo, and just then the last beam of sunlight streaming through the window vanishes. His pained expression melts away, and there is revulsion and hatred etched in his face as he raises his wand and points it directly at his father.
“Avada Kedavra!”
A jet of green light shoots from the end of Kylo Ren’s wand and hits Solo squarely in the chest. Finn’s scream of horror never leaves him, and he stands silent and motionless as Rey’s scream pierces the night, tearing through them like a great shard of glass. Han Solo touches his son’s face one last time, and they watch, helpless, unmoving, as he slowly falls backward, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.
“That wand. It belongs to me!”
With as much bravado as he can muster, Finn raises Luke Skywalker’s wand in welcome.
“Come get it.”
Finn lies in the snow, panting heavily, every bone in his body aching. He knows he doesn’t have the strength to stand up and, with Skywalker’s wand twenty feet away from him, he knows he has no hope of fighting back. It’s only a matter of time before the world around him fades to black.
“Accio Wand!"
The last thing Finn sees before the world falls into blackness is the wand flying out of the snow, speeding past Kylo Ren and into Rey’s hand.
The first thing Finn sees when he opens his eyes is Poe, his head resting on the edge of Finn’s pillow. Poe’s lips are close enough to Finn that his breath tickles Finn’s cheek.
Finn can feel the handkerchief in his pocket and he moves to pull it out. At Finn’s movement, Poe’s eyes snap open and he moves back slightly, his nose nearly brushing against Finn’s.
“Hey,” Finn says, smiling.
“Hey,” Poe says, and Finn notices for the first time Poe’s hand over his own.
Finn doesn’t look up, keeping his eyes on their tangled fingers as he slowly, silently places the scented handkerchief on Poe’s palm.
“It smells like you,” is all Finn can say, and his heart pounds in his chest, thudding so loudly that he is surprised Poe doesn’t hear it.
There is silence. One second stretches into two, two into three as Finn feels Poe stare at him in disbelief. Finally, Poe laughs softly and Finn looks up to see his entire face light up, his smile the brightest thing Finn has ever seen.
“Good,” Poe says, his eyes as warm as his hand. “I’d hate to think I was the only one pining.”
Finn’s emotions are suddenly all over the place and he can’t stop the huge grin spreading over his face. Before he can say anything, Poe presses his forehead against his, lips hovering over his own, and Finn decides this is far, far better than talking.
When their lips meet, Finn feels every cliché he's supposed to. The fireworks, the sparks, the butterflies. Everything.
Definitely better than talking.
Professor Skywalker is missing.
Everyone seems fairly sure that he isn’t in any danger – probably safer than anyone at Hogwarts, they say – but no one knows where he is, not the teachers, not even the headmistress.
He’s simply gone, left without a word after the smoke cleared.
And Rey –
Rey is gone too.
Even though Finn knows why she left, why she went to look for Skywalker, why she has to do it on her own, as much as he understands –
Finn can’t help but wish she said goodbye.
Finn has never been to the Headmistress’ office before, and he tries to ignore the way that despair clings to the walls like cobwebs as he enters. It’s a large and beautiful circular room, the walls covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses and people Finn doesn’t recognize, all of whom are either snoozing gently in their frames or eyeing him with mild interest. There is also a portrait of Anakin Skywalker, his face as blank as ever as he regards Finn silently. In the frame next to him is a bearded man Finn has seen with Skywalker before, except now his hair is white and his face is older and more weary.
Of all the portraits there, of all the curious instruments, the thing that catches Finn’s eye is a small framed picture sitting on a bookshelf. It shows Professor Skywalker, Professor Solo, and Headmistress Organa, younger than Finn has ever seen them, laughing and smiling. Solo never stares at the camera, alternating between laughing at Skywalker and staring at Organa with a look so loving and tender that Finn feels he’s intruding on a private moment.
“That was after the Battle of Endor.”
Finn looks behind him and finds Headmistress Organa approaching him. She looks more somber and weary than Finn has ever seen her, but she holds her shoulders back and her chin high, her every movement flowing and graceful.
“He always hated that picture,” Headmistress Organa says, and Finn doesn’t have to ask to know who she meant. “He said it was silly that we were celebrating the end of the war to end all wars with a picnic, but we knew he was just putting on a show. He was just as relieved as the rest of us that it was all over.”
Finn can’t help but wonder what she thinks now, if she thinks it was all worth it, all the fighting and death and sacrifices she endured. To end one war and then live to fight another, and to face so much loss when the storm has barely begun – Headmistress Organa has to be more broken than she lets on.
“But I didn’t ask you here to listen to me reminisce,” she says after a beat, turning to him at last.
“Why did you ask me here, Professor?”
“To answer your questions. Surely you have some?”
Finn does, but now that he’s there, facing the one person who can actually give him answers, his mind is suddenly a jumble of words, each competing for attention.
Headmistress Organa must have understood because she looks at him kindly as she places her hands over his, a gesture that reminds Finn so much of Rey that he feels his heart clench.
“That was incredibly brave what you did,” she says warmly. “Fighting in that battle, saving Poe Dameron’s life –”
“Thank you, ma’am – but anyone would have done the same thing.”
She smiles softly. “You tried to save Han too. You were there when he died.”
Finn’s breath catches in his throat as the scene replays in his mind. “I couldn’t though. I’m sorry I couldn’t –”
“No, don’t be. He made his choice.”
For a moment, the ticking of the grandfather clock behind the headmistress’ desk is the only sound in the room.
“Rey,” Finn begins, trying to find his words. “Why – why her? Why did you send her?”
“The wand that she brought with her – the wand was Luke’s. And our father’s before him and now, it calls to her.”
There is something poignant and strangely ominous about those words, like words from a fairytale.
“You have to understand,” she continues gently, “this is something that she has to do. Whether or not you believe in fate, know that I wouldn’t have let her go if I didn’t believe that.”
“But she doesn’t have to do it on her own.”
“She does,” the headmistress says, and her eyes are kind. “But that doesn’t mean she’s alone.”
Finn takes a deep breath, willing himself to accept what Headmistress Organa has given him and knowing that this is all she will say on the matter.
There isn’t much left to say after that. Finn mumbles a soft but sincere thank you and slowly turns to leave as Headmistress Organa walks over her desk, both of them giving the framed picture one last glance.
“She’ll be all right.”
Finn stops, his hand on the doorknob, and looks over his shoulder.
“She’ll be all right,” Anakin Skywalker says. “If nothing else, believe in that.”
Finn stares back at the solemn looking portrait for a short moment before giving a slight nod and departing without another word.
The sky is a canvas of red and pink and orange, ribbons of gold in the west and blue in the east. There isn't so much as a breath of wind; the lake is still as glass, reflecting the watercolor sky and the castle standing sentinel over it all. It’s a beautiful sight – not as beautiful as the one in Hogsmeade, but beautiful all the same, if Finn doesn’t look at the grounds where remnants of the battle still lie.
Poe is sitting next to him and for a moment Finn can pretend that they’re the only two people in the world – him and Poe and their interlocked hands.
“Organa,” Poe begins after a long moment, “is forming a group – to fight Snoke. Like the Rebel Alliance except . . . they say they’re calling it the Resistance.”
“And you’re going to join them.” It isn’t a question.
“I am,” Poe says, half laughing. “You know I’ve always wanted to save the world.” He looks away from Finn, over the lake. “I asked you once, if you wanted to save it with me.”
“I never did give you an answer, did I?”
“Look, Finn,” Poe says, turning to look at him, “I know it’s too much to ask you to come with me. And I – I can’t ask you to wait for me –”
“You don’t have to,” Finn says, squeezing Poe’s hand. “I’m coming with you.” He smiles. “Someone has to come to your rescue.”
Poe laughs. “My hero.”
It’s getting dark, only a few streaks of fading sunlight remaining in the sky, the silvery moon just rising in the east.
“Do you think we’re gonna be okay?” The words slip past Finn’s lips before he can stop them.
Their eyes meet, and Finn can see his own fears and worries reflected in Poe’s gaze.
“We’re going to be okay,” Poe says, and it sounds like a promise. “As long as there’s light, we’ll be okay.”
Finn believes him, holds on to these words as tightly as he grips Poe’s hand, unable to let go. And despite everything, despite his ever-present worry over Rey’s wellbeing, despite the long, dark and twisting path he sees stretching ahead of them, Finn feels his heart lift at the thought that, whatever happens next, he has this moment, this one last tangerine sunset and Poe’s fingers laced with his.