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When It’s Getting Late

Summary:

“She can’t help it at this distance—her eyes have nowhere to look but Cil’s lips. When she finally glances up and sees Cil staring at her own mouth through those damned lashes, the electricity hanging between them cracks.”

Lucy & Cil are researching in the common room late at night, and if only they could focus on just that.

Notes:

edited 03/31/25: i rewrote to be in third person & made some improvements. forgive the godawful formatting; i’m a mobile user. thanks for reading :D

Work Text:

“Lucy, it’s getting late,” Cil mumbles, resting her head on Lucy’s knee, who’s cross-legged with a book in her lap.

“Mm… C’mere, look at this.” Lucy sits up further and lays the book in between them, their knees brushing and lighting matches in her chest as she points at the page.

“What am I looking at?” Cil smiles lazily up at the other girl, her brown eyes heavy with sleep.

“It’s monkshood.” Lucy tucks a stray curl behind Cil’s ear, swallowing hard at the gesture.

Cil’s eyebrows raise. “Well, okay. And?”

“Also known as wolfsbane.”

“Okay…” She appears no less confused.

“I’m thinking…”

“You’re thinking.” Cil grins and stares up at Lucy through thick eyelashes; eyelashes that force her to look away in order to get her words straight.

“Shut up. I’m thinking the paralyzing effects of it could be brewed out in such a way to help our furry little problem maintain control during, you know, episodes.”

“You think so?” Cil furrows her eyebrows and looks over the illustration again. “Isn’t it poisonous?”

“Deadly. To humans, at least.”

“Right. So, you want to brew a deadly potion and dose Remus to see what happens?” She smiles up at Lucy, who’s acutely aware of their hands touching as they rest on the pages of the book.

She blushes. “No, not—not exactly. I dunno.”

“You’re exceptional, Lucy, but this is above what you can do alone, secretly, in your spare time.”

Lucy tears her gaze away from where it’s accidentally resting on Cil’s lips. “That’s why you’re going to help me.”

“Mm… you think so, huh?” Cil smirks. She traces her fingers up and down Lucy’s knuckles and the latter girl has to swallow her nerves to respond.

“Yes.“

“Right, and I’ll be so useful.”

“Mhm. Moral support.” Lucy presses her hand flat against Cil’s, as if comparing the sizes. Her palm is bigger and fingers just a bit longer than the blonde’s.

Their eyes meet and Lucy’s stomach jumps up her throat but she keeps her gaze. Somehow, they feel so much closer than before, knees practically in one another’s laps. She notes the scent of the hot chocolate they drank earlier on Cil’s breath.

“I guess it is, uh, getting late,” Lucy murmurs, eyes flickering to Cil’s lips once more before she clears her throat and closes the book.

“S’pose so,” Cil mumbles, glancing down into her lap.

Neither girl moves, their eyes locked together. Lucy feels her heartbeat in her ears as her hand raises to cup Cil’s cheek.

“You’ve got—just, yeah, right here,” she mumbles, brushing her thumb over a small bit of chocolate at the corner of the other’s mouth. The pad of her finger lingers a little longer than might be necessary, but Cil doesn’t stop her.

Lucy, snapping to her senses, starts to pull her hand away but is stopped by Cil’s grasp around her wrist—holding her in place. The space between them has disappeared via some vacuum, leaving behind only a few centimeters of tension that’s audible in each breath.

She can’t help it at this distance—her eyes have nowhere to look but Cil’s lips. When she finally glances up and sees Cil staring at her own mouth through those damned lashes, the electricity hanging between them cracks.

Their lips meet in a soft, breathy kiss—barely a brush. Cil’s hand raises, cupping Lucy’s jaw and pulling her closer for a kiss that’s a little more concrete; one that cannot be questioned. Lucy lets out a muffled moan and furrows her brows, molding her lips to Cil’s. Fuck, they’re hot and wet and sit perfectly between Lucy’s top and bottom lips. Their mouths fit together just right, like fingers intertwining or closed flower petals.

“Oh, Cil,” Lucy breaths out. Her head is thick with want: the want to be closer, to make Cil hers.

They part for just a moment but crush together again like magnets. Cil’s deft fingers migrate into Lucy’s wavy hair and use it to pull her closer into the kiss. Lucy groans and can’t help but reach out and squeeze her hand around Cil’s thigh and leaning in further, harder. Their lips orchestrate a symphony of wet noises, breaths, and moans each time they part and reunite.

And when Cil flicks her tongue along the seam between Lucy’s lips, it’s like lava pours through her body, pooling in her belly. She lets out a little moan in satisfaction, leaning closer to the other girl and pushing her own tongue against hers. The only thing separating them from melting together into one is the book in Lucy’s lap, which Cil takes the liberty of pushing to the floor.

“Fuck,” Lucy mumbles, feeling the other girl climb almost on top of her. Cil draws a shaky breath before planting another open-mouthed kiss on her lips, hands intertwined in her hair.

Lucy moans and helps bring Cil into her lap, situating her legs on either side of her thighs.

“Mm,” Cil moans as Lucy’s tongue dances down her throat. She presses hot, gentle kisses all the way to Cil’s collarbone, one hand at the back of her neck and the other gently climbing up her waist under her t-shirt. The more of Cil’s skin she can feel on her own, the better. This is it—this is everything; the whole world in Lucy’s hands.

“Oh, c’mere,” Cil gasps out, dragging Lucy back up for a kiss. Their mouths melt together and that chocolate from earlier is nothing compared to how sweet Cil tastes on her tongue.

A creak from the staircase makes them both jump apart, separating their lips and untangling their hands.

Lucy clears her throat and grabs her book off the floor before glancing to see who’s on the stairs. Heart racing, stomach flipped, mind cloudy—all still feeling Cil.

It’s some third year come down to get their book bag; barely paying a glance to the pair on the couch.

“Merlin—“ Lucy laughs, face hot and red as she turns to Cil.

There’s no response, just shuffling as the other girl gathers her things and moves to stand. She drags the heel of her hand across her cheek, turning to face the portrait hole as she slings her bag up over her shoulder.

“Hey, Cil—“ Lucy stands and reaches a hand out, brushing Cil’s waist.

“No. This is—“ Cil swats her hand away, only partially facing Lucy and staring at the floor. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this.”

“What? Cil, come on—“ Lucy pads up the stairs after the other girl, feeling tears burn at the corners of her own eyes.

Somehow by the time Lucy makes it to the dork, Cil’s already locked herself in the bathroom.

“Cecile,” Lucy hisses at the door, aware that if everyone else in the dorm is woken up the situation will worsen tenfold.

No response comes and she tries at the knob to no avail. Well, fuck me , she thinks.

“Leave me alone, Lucy. I can’t.” Lucy’s heart twists and contorts in her chest and she chokes back a sob, turning sharply to her bed.

She pulls the curtains shut around her four poster, letting tears finally roll down her cheeks as she compresses herself into a ball. Jesus Christ.

What have I done?

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