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You prop your broom against the back door of the store, brushing mud from your cheeks. It’s half past five, which means you and Garreth are overdue for tea. Bottles clanking in your satchel, you wave your wand to unlock the back door of Weasley’s Potion Emporium. The door bell jingles when you back in, floorboards creaking beneath your boots. A refurbishment should be in the cards soon, you think, as the back stock shelves rattle. It’s been years since Garreth bought the business from Parry Pippin, and you can still see the hastily covered Pippins Potions logos on the cabinets.
“Garreth, I’m back—nasty weather on the Poidsear, but plenty of murtlaps running about—“
“You’re back!” Garreth yells cheerfully, standing from his stool. He’s wearing his nice dress robes—a scarlet tweed, with an emerald green cravat that brings out the color in his eyes. His strawberry blonde hair is slick with pomade, a sin against the voluminous curls you know so well.
“What’s going on?” You halt your steps, scanning the room.
It’s immediately obvious that the two of you are not alone. Frozen in place, you see an old man with a wizarding camera set up, holding the flash. Besides him is an unfortunately familiar face. Violet McDowell, your former classmate, is leaning against the shop counter with a dictation quill and notepad floating behind her.
“I was beginning to wonder when we’d see you,” Violet gives you a saccharine smile. It’s too big, too sweet. She saunters over, gloved hands set upon her hips. “Garreth said you were out. Figures you’re still traipsing up and down the highlands, up to no good.”
“Violet, a pleasure. What’s all this?” You ask with a forced smile, clutching a large bottle of murtlap essence close to your chest.
“Garreth’s interview,” Violet says, wrinkling her nose as you get closer. “That stinks.”
“Is that the murtlap essence I ordered?” Garreth asks eagerly, about to walk over to you. As he stands, Violet shrieks, waving him to sit back down.
“Garreth, you have to sit still until the portrait is done,” she scolds.
“Portrait for what, exactly?” You ask.
“Witch Weekly’s Top Twenty-Five Most Charming Wizards,” Violet scoffs, as if she fully expects you to be up to speed. She slinks around to Garreth, sliding her arms around his shoulders. “Mr. Weasley here is number three this year.”
“Number three?” Your jaw drops open.
Garreth waggles his brows. “Well, don’t look so surprised.”
Violet curls her hand around his bicep, pulling him back to the stool. “The list was starting to get too predictable,” she tuts. Garreth is pliable, letting her arrange him on the stool in a casual pose. “Same mix of dusty old aurors and quidditch players. With this being my first year as head editor of the society column, I came in with some fresh ideas, new blood to add.” She creases her eye in a wink.
“Oh,” you choke out, setting the bottle on the counter. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of just how scrappy you look; you’ve been far too busy with research and sourcing ingredients to care about your wardrobe, so you’re in a large billowing shirt and vest, with dirt streaked pants. Your hair is frizzy and curled from being close to the sea all morning, and you must smell like a fright—that would certainly explain the photographers wrinkled nose and unimpressed gaze towards you.
“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be out of your hair soon.” Violet waves you off. She’s dressed like a proper lady; satin gown with black velvet trim, dragon-hide gloves and neatly arranged hair. “I just have to get some bits and bobs for the written copy, and I want to make sure we get our photo just right for spread.”
“Make sure you capture my good side, eh?” Garreth grins, creasing his eye in a wink.
You would escape, if there was any possible way. Unfortunately, the photo backdrop is blocking your access to the stairs leading up to your room, so you’re stuck leaning against the cupboards as Violet conducts her interview.
“So, Garreth, you purchased the business five years after graduating from Hogwarts? That’s quite young to become a business owner.”
“I did,” Garreth says proudly. “Parry Pippin was retiring, and he wanted to pass along the building to the right person. I’d been an apprentice to him out of Hogwarts, and worked with a few colleagues of his in Diagon Alley before settling down back here in Hogsmeade.”
“Your favorite color? Animal? Season?” Violet asks, the quill eagerly swishing in anticipation of his answers.
Easy, you think. Teal, mooncalves, and spring, but only before it gets ungodly humid and flowers are just blooming. It’s hard to imagine not knowing these things about Garreth.
“Would you like a family someday?” Violet teases.
“Of course,” you blurt aloud. Garreth and Violet’s gazes redirect your way. Violet has a smug smirk on her face, whereas Garreth is staring at you with a curious gaze.
“I mean, he only talks about it all the time, and all his siblings.” You quickly recover, cheeks pink from the intrusion. “Sorry, force of habit.”
“My business partner, she lives inside my brain.” Garreth jokes, turning his attention back to Violet. “Yes, I’d love to. I have several nieces and nephews from my older siblings, and I love children.”
“How cute,” Violet coos. “On that note, any special women in your life at the moment?” Her eyes flicker in your direction, prompting you to snort. When Garreth and the photographer look your way, you cough to cover the laugh.
“None,” Garreth’s voice falters. “No one at the moment, that is. I am completely available.”
“Our readers will love to hear that,” Violet purrs, winking as her quill flourishes behind her.
Your smile falters just as the camera clicks, a plume of glimmering smoke filling the shop. Violet coughs, waving her hand in front of her face.
“I think we’ve got the shot—Ernest, I think we can call it a day.” She whips back around to Garreth, handing him a magenta envelope. “Garreth, your invitation to the party.”
“Party?” Your voice is a few octaves too high, cracking as you ask.
Violet waves her wand, her quill and notebook stashing itself in her purse. “Witch Weekly’s party to celebrate the bachelors, of course. It’ll be the party of the season—invitation only, I hope you understand. We have to save the bulk of the spots for our readership.”
“Oh come on, Vi.” Garreth whines. “Spare an invite for a friend?”
Violet sighs, hand perched on her hip. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do. But as a reminder, the dress code is evening formal.” You don’t miss the jab, her eyes scanning your dirty blouse. “Come on Ernie, we have to get back to London. Sallow demanded a reshoot.”
You stay frozen in place as Garreth ushers Violet and her photographer to the fireplace, both of them disappearing in plumes of green smoke one after another. Finally alone, he turns to you with his normal beaming smile.
“What a ruckus that was, huh?” Garreth smiles, shrugging his jacket off. He drapes it over the counter, tugging at his cravat. “Now, let me get a look at that murtlap essence.”
“Oh, right.” You stumble over your feet as you push the bottle into his open hands. It’s suddenly as if you’re a fifth year again, timid in the potions room. Your gaze falls down to his freckled forearms, the sleeves of his nice dress shirt rolled up over his elbows as he appraises your bounty.
“Be careful. You’re going to get murtlap essence all over your nice shirt,” you chide him. “And you’ll need it for that fancy party of yours.”
Garreth chuckles, setting the bottle down onto the counter. “Are you going to baby me forever?”
“Probably,” you snort, snatching the magenta envelope from the counter. “Witch Weekly presents an evening with the twenty five most charming wizards,” you recite dramatically.
“And you’re coming with,” Garreth reminds you. “You can’t leave me alone with that lot.”
“Thanks for the invite, but I’ll pass.” You roll your eyes. “I’m not sure I’d like to watch you all preen for an evening.”
“Oh come on. It’ll be good for the business to get my name out there, even if it’s for some silly list.” Garreth scoffs, unbuttoning the top of his shirt.
As it falls open, your eyes beeline to the freckled expanse of his chest. “It’ll do you some good to do some socializing.”
“I do socialize. I have you.” You remind him with a wink.
“I don’t know, maybe you’ll meet a bloke at the party.” Garreth suggests. “Someone charming.”
“You’re not charming enough? I should think number three’s charm should suffice.” You tease.
Garreth flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “But wouldn’t you want to? Find someone? Can’t live with me forever.”
The smile on your mouth falters. Does Garreth want you to meet someone? Is he tired of being your roommate after six years of running a business together?
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” You blurt. “If you don’t want to keep living together, that’s fine, I have the shop on the other side of the village.”
“Not at all!” Garreth holds his hands up. “No, I love living with you—and after all, it makes sense—“ he rambles. “Y’know, for the business. Yeah, for the business.”
“Right,” you say slowly. That’s what Garreth had told you six years ago, when he’d asked you to move in with him in the first place. He was growing the shop, needed a steady stream of supplies and help with brewing. You’d just wrapped an expedition searching for ancient magic throughout Europe, and he was offering a place to land. The road had been lonely, and sharing a space with Garreth was comforting, even if you did have to put up with his snoring. What had started as a simple flat share has turned into your daily source of happiness.
“You’re still happy living here?” Garreth asks quickly. “I mean, it’s just so easy for us to be in close proximity.”
“Given the business,” you remind him, closing out his sentence.
“For business.” Garreth smiles, shoulders bowling over.
“Of course.” You wave him off, tossing the magenta envelope back onto the counter. “And fine, I’ll go to this fancy party with you.”
Garreth sighs in relief, his hands planting on your shoulders as he looks down at you. “Thank you. I’d be lost without you.”
“Same,” you confess. His thumbs brush over your linen shirt, sending a shiver down your spine.
Garreth opens his mouth, as if he’s about to say something. His green eyes search your face, but he snaps his mouth shut. Backing away, he turns to grab an apron hanging off the wall.
“Should we get to brewing?” Garreth coughs, tying the leather straps.
“Right.” You mumble, scooping up the vials of murtlap essence in your arms. “Lead the way, boss.”
It’s Saturday, and Diagon Alley is bustling. Your shoulders knock into Natty’s as you fight through the throng of people, on your way to the dressmaker’s for the damn party Garreth has bullied you into attending.
“This is a reminder of why I detest Diagon Alley,” you shout over the crowd.
Natty laughs with her whole body, curls bouncing as she turns her head towards you. “That’s why I thought it was crazy you’d volunteer to come visit me. Normally I’d have to drag you out of Hogsmeade.”
“Hogsmeade is superior,” you boast. “Plenty of space, no tourists, slow during the summer—“ you wrinkle your nose as a gaggle of children run between the two of you. “Better for shopping.”
“And yet you’ve volunteered to come all the way to London for the day.” Natty muses. “I wonder why.”
No need to wonder, you think. Garreth had told you over tea the day before—Violet needed to come in for a more in depth interview. The editors had found him so fascinating, they wanted to dedicate him a half page spread.
“I have to find a dress,” you shrug. For a party you don’t want to go to, to watch women fan themselves over your best friend.
“What’s gotten into you?” Natty asks, bumping her hip into yours. “You seem so faraway.”
“If you must know, I found out Garreth is on that stupid Witch Weekly list,” you grumble. “The one Violet McDowell is putting together, the—“
“List of the top twenty-five most charming bachelors, I’ve heard.” Natty hums. “Can’t tell you how put out Sebastian is that he’s fallen to number twenty. Made a big stink about it in the DMLE office last week. He demanded a recount, but Violet told him it’s determined by committee, not vote.
He’s absolutely convinced it's retaliation for not asking her out on a second date. I told him he’s lucky he didn’t get booted off the list in general, with that big head of his.”
“So you know about it.” You huff. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”
Natty shrugs. “I think it’s funny, considering half of the list consists of the idiots we went to Hogwarts with.” She pauses a moment, eyes flitting towards you. “I also think it’s not a far off assessment, putting Garreth up so high this year.”
“What do you mean?”
“I only mean that Garreth is a pretty eligible bachelor,” Natty shrugs. “Look at the facts. He’s a businessman, entrepreneur, not that bad to look at—“
“Do you fancy him then?” You ask, scandalized.
Natty snorts. “Not at all. Merely pointing out his qualifications.”
The door to Twilfit and Tattings dings as you both enter, an awkward silence hanging between the two of you. The thought of a committee voting whether or not your best mate and business partner is an eligible bachelor doesn’t quite sit right with you. Chewing on your lower lip, you can already see his disappointed face in your head.
Well, don’t look so surprised, he’d said.
“Blue or green?” Natty asks, holding out two dress options.
“Neither,” you say absentmindedly, rummaging through the racks. “Garreth is wearing that gaudy red tweed of his—I should probably find something that goes better with that.”
“Are you two going as a date?” She teases, poking your shoulder.
“Not at all,” you blurt. “Just friends, don’t be silly.”
Natty goes back to perusing, letting out a dissatisfied hum.
“Come out with it then,” you huff.
Natty tilts her head, curls spilling over her shoulders. “Why are you so put off about this party?”
“It’s such a frivolous thing, celebrating them for their looks.” you complain. “Just imagine if they ranked us like that, there would be an uproar.”
“In general? Or regarding Garreth specifically?” Natty pokes.
“I just can’t picture Garreth like that.” You fidget, pulling a champagne gown off the rack next. “It’s Garreth, for Merlin’s sake.”
Natty rolls her eyes. “Oh please.”
“What?” Stopping in your tracks, you stare at Natty with furrowed brows.
“I only mean it’s not Garreth’s fault you’re only just realizing how handsome he is.” Natty says gently.
“I’ve known he’s handsome!” You scoff. “I always did say it’s a pity he and Leonora never worked out, she was really punching up with him—“
“Then why are you so against him being on this list?” Natty chuckles.
Your mouth falls open, face turning red. “It’s—I mean, it’s Garreth. I just don’t see him being that kind of heartthrob.”
“By heartthrob, you mean scoundrel.” Natty points out. “Like Sebastian, Mr. “I’ve been on the list before, it’s preposterous I’d be ranks so low this year” Sallow.”
“Exactly,” you snap your fingers. “Sebastian, I get. He’s always been that type, peacocking around. Garreth has never really focused on any of that nonsense. He’s too sweet, too sensible.” Your voice softens, thinking about your best mate.
“Have you ever been attracted to him?” Natty asks curiously, crossing her arms.
Your face heats up, turning beet red at the thought. “Natty!” You slap at her arm. “Of course not.”
“Why haven’t you?” She asks. “You said it yourself, he’s handsome, you think he’s sensible and sweet. The two of you already spend an ungodly amount of time together—hell, Everett Clopton even asked me how long you two have been dating, and he was shocked to find out you weren’t.”
“You’re having a laugh,” you scoff. “No one would ever think—“
“You live together.” Natty points out.
“For convenience,” you blurt. “I’m always traveling for the shop, it doesn’t make sense to have my own flat. Besides, there are two bedrooms above the shop.”
“You have your own house in Hogsmeade.”
“It’s haunted, thank you very much.” You scowl.
“And you’re the hero of Hogwarts—I think you can fight back a poltergeist no issue.”
All fair points, but you’ll never concede. Instead, you merely shove the racks, trying to find something that isn’t too ruffly or feathery. Natty moves to the other side of the rack, perusing the yellow gowns.
“It’s not like that,” you blurt, breaking the silence. “Garreth even asked if I’d be interested in meeting anyone at the party.”
“Did he?” Natty perks up, shoving the gowns out of the way so she can see you. “That’s interesting.”
“Not interesting. Just two very single, very available friends going to a party together. You should try it.”
Natty narrows her eyes at you, but just like every other jab, you ignore it. Instead, you push hanger after hanger aside, still searching for the right dress. Something elegant, something that will knock everyone’s socks off. Something that will—
“What do you think about this one?”
Natty holds up a golden gown, delicately pleated organza paired with shimmering flowers. It’s elegant, and dare you say it a bit low cut.
“This will have everyone in the room staring at you.” Natty insists. “And should it matter, it will look great next to red dress robes.”
You take the hanger from her, holding it up to your body in the mirror. You wonder what Garreth would think—no, why on earth would it matter what he thinks?
Dress purchased and bags in hand, you and Natty make your way to Fortescue’s ice cream parlor down the alley. She clears her throat as you navigate the streets, her hand resting on your wrist.
“About earlier, all the Garreth stuff…” Natty trails off. “I understand if you don’t feel anything for him. But if you don’t, I think you should lighten up on the criticism. I think he’s rather excited for the nomination.”
“He told me it was a ruckus.” You retort.
“He may have said that to your face, but just think about it. He deserves the accolade.” Natty reminds you. “I think you need to see he’s more than just your best friend and business partner.”
“I know he deserves it, and I know he’s more.” you strain. It’s not that you’re feeling possessive over him—he doesn’t belong to you, he’s his own person. But it’s hard to imagine a future without him. The thought of growing up, moving on from this comfortable intimacy is terrifying.
Opening the door to the ice cream parlor, a bell ringing above them, Natty rolls her eyes.
“If you don’t, it won’t be long before doesn’t else does.”
“Wow.”
Garreth stands at the foot of the staircase, his hair slicked back. He’s standing a little straighter, eyes wide as you walk down the staircase.
“Perhaps I should wear dresses more often, that way you’re not so shocked.” You tease, picking up your skirt as you descend the stairs.
“No,” Garreth blurts. “No, I like what you wear. Your normal clothes—I prefer them. I just…you look great.”
Fighting the furious flush on your cheeks, you thwack him with your satin gloves. “Enough gawking. We have to get to London,” you remind him. “Hand me my cloak?”
Garreth doesn’t say a word, ignoring your outstretched hand. Instead, he sweeps your long traveling cloak around you, fastening it at your neck. His bare fingers brush your skin ever so slightly, his eyes fluttering as he looks up to you.
What the fuck, you think, swallowing thickly. You’re not even drunk, and the slightest touch has your heart pattering against your chest.
“We should go,” Garreth murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll be late.”
“Right,” you blink back at him, summoning the awful magenta envelope. “Let’s get a move on, Mr. Charming.”
The two of you step into the hearth together, Garreth steadying you as your heels wobble over soot and charred wood. You’re no stranger to taking the floo with him; in fact, you’ve done it for years. He’s always been a gentleman about it, enveloping you in his large frame so you avoid the bulk of the flames. But something about this, his hand on your waist, is stirring up all the feelings you’d shoved down after your afternoon with Natty. Garreth is your best mate, for fuck’s sake. Even worse, your business partner. You need to get a grip—if the feeling of his skin on yours is riling you up this bad, perhaps it really has been too long since you’ve entertained a date.
Green flames erupt around you, Garreth scooting even closer. For a moment, you’re pressed hip to hip. The casual intimacy is gone in a flash, quite literally. As soon as the smoke clears, Garreth steps forward and into the ballroom.
“It’s…something.” Garreth hums.
You wrinkle your nose. “It’s…pink.”
Violet truly has outdone herself in the decoration. Banners of hot pink silk hang from the ceiling, creating an almost tent-like feel. Candles, hundreds of candles, flicker along the sidelines, illuminating purple velvet settees meant for mingling and chats. In the center of the room is a giant ice sculpture of a cherub, holding the latest issue of Witch Weekly.
“Is that supposed to be Cupid?” You ask.
“It looks like a garden gnome that’s been confunded.” A familiar voice rings.
Both you and Garreth turn to see Sebastian Sallow standing a foot away, champagne coupe in hand. He looks dashing as ever, wearing an emerald green suit so dark it looks nearly black. He grins as he kisses your cheeks, subtle facial hair scratching your skin.
“I hate your beard.” You complain.
“But the ladies love it.” Sebastian shrugs. “Good on you Garreth, top of the list this year.”
“Yeah,” Garreth smiles nervously, his head scanning the room. “Feels weird to celebrate though—not sure what all these fancy folk see in me.”
“Nonsense,” Sebastian scoffs. “He’s a catch, isn’t he?”
“He is,” you echo. When you say it, Garreth’s eyes briefly meet yours, and you barely have enough time to register the curiosity in his gaze.
Sebastian chuckles, knocking his shoulders into you. “He’ll have his pick of the room, won’t he?”
Your mouth opens, but no words come out. The uneasy wave in your stomach returns, but there’s not much to do—Garreth is whisked away before you can interject another thought.
The band plays on, partygoers twirling around the dance floor. It’s now the eighth time you’ve had to watch Garreth circle the room, another Witch Weekly subscriber on his arm. You should feel happy for your friend—he deserves this. You can’t think of anyone smarter, sweeter, more deserving of finding a good match.
Yet it feels like you’ve got a bezoar lodged in your throat, Natty’s words stuck at the forefront of your mind.
It’s not Garreth’s fault you’re only just realizing how handsome he is.
You feel stupid standing against the wall. It’s like you’re the last to the party, the last one to hear the joke. Garreth is a catch in every way, and you’ve been too obtuse to see it.
Swirling your champagne glass, you watch Garreth bow to the pretty blonde he’s just waltzed with. She offers him her dance card, and he chuckles as he scribbles his name in. As she walks away, he rubs the back of his neck, blushing at the sight of a small crowd queueing for his next dance.
“Lucky lad,” Sebastian jokes, appearing at your side. He clinks his glass against yours, downing it in one gulp.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than be my shadow? Don’t you have some dancing to do?” You nudge him back.
“Been there, done that.” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Plus, it’s nice to see Garreth having his day in the sun.”
Color drains from your face, smirk turning into a scowl. “You’re being mean, Sebastian.”
“I’m not being mean,” he retorts, shifting from one leg to the other. “The poor bloke has been pining for years, it’s about time he gets out of his funk.”
“Pining over who?” You ask, fearful of the answer.
Sebastian scoffs, taking your champagne glass. “Please, don’t make me laugh. As if you haven’t noticed him tripping over himself at your heels since we were sixteen.”
“He has not!” You insist, thwacking him in the shoulder. “I don’t know what you and Natty are on about, trying to push this narrative.”
“It’s not a narrative, my dear. It’s facts.” Sebastian purses his lips. “You really think he’s been single all this time because he wants to be?”
“He’s busy with the shop—“
Sebastian wags a finger in your face, diverting your argument. “He’s been single all this time because he’s been holding out for you.”
You turn your gaze back out to the ballroom, spotting Garreth by the refreshment table. He looks flustered as Violet, the evening’s hostess, sings his praises. Even from a distance you can hear her; distinguished potioneer, young business owner, handsome to boot. It makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs, how is he only interesting to you now?
But how can you? You’ve only just noticed it yourself.
Your eyes briefly meet Garreth’s as you turn on your heels, marching out the closest exit. Alone in the foyer, you brace your hands against your corset. Perhaps it's the champagne getting to your head. Perhaps it's regret.
Your eyes widen as you hear the doors open and shut again, dress shoes squeaking on the hardwood floor.
“Are you alright?” Garreth asks. “I glanced over and it looked like you’d seen a dementor.”
“I’m fine,” you mumble, stepping backwards. “One too many champagnes.”
“Is Sebastian bothering you?” Garreth steps forward. “I saw him snickering at you.”
“It’s nothing, Garreth.” You wave him off.
“Then what were you two whispering about?” He asks, insistent on closing the gap between you.
“He’s just going on and on about the party, about you—never mind. I’m just tired, and I think I’ll go home.”
“So soon?” He frowns. “But we’ve hardly seen each other.”
“Well, I think you’re quite busy.” You spit the words out unintentionally.
“What’s got a bee in your bustle?” Garreth demands, straightening his cravat.
“You’re actually buying into all of this,” you blurt, hands braced on your hips.
“It’s a celebration,” Garreth sighs. “What, am I just supposed to sulk the whole night?”
“But the party, the peacocking—it’s just not you.”
“And why shouldn’t it be me?” Garreth asks coolly, crossing his arms. Something about him is so intimidating in this stance, rather than goofy Garreth you know so well.
“It’s just not you.” The words come out of your mouth in a mumble.
“So what if I want it to be?” He narrows his eyes. His brows are furrowed, a frown set upon his lips. Is he…is he mad at you?”
“What’s wrong?” You demand.
“That’s not fair,” he snaps. “That’s not fair of you and you know it.”
“Not fair—not fair for me to say this whole charade is beneath you?” You scoff.
“So, it’s beneath me to be attractive?” Garreth bites back.
“I never said—“
“Merlin forbid I’m sexy to someone,” Garreth snaps at you again, a flush crawling up his neck. “That someone finds me charming—“
“I’ve always found you charming,” you stammer.
“You know, I’ve spent my entire teenage years living up to other standards. Second string to my brothers, to my friends—do you know what it’s like to have to watch everyone else be considered desirable, yet I’m just silly Garreth?” He huffs, pacing back and forth. “Silly Garreth and his silly little potions, always making trouble, never being taken seriously.”
“Garreth, I do take you seriously,” you rush forward, reaching for his arm. His freckled skin is as warm as a furnace, and it feels like a jolt of lightening has struck you when he yanks his arm away.
“All this time, and when someone finally sees me as charming and attractive, the woman I’ve been in love with all my life thinks it’s beneath me?” He shrieks.
“Yes, I think it’s beneath you!” You roar back. “You’ve always been immune to this sort of drama, the whole spectacle of it is so not you! I’d expect this sort of vanity from Sebastian, but from you of all people—“ your voice trails off, chest heaving as you process his last sentence to you. “Hold on a moment.”
“What?” Garreth mumbles, fiddling with his cufflinks. “I’m going back in. You clearly don’t support this, so I won’t expect you to attend with me—“
“What did you say?” You ask, steadying your gaze on him.
Garreth turns on his heel. “I think you’re being an arse about a silly little article.”
Your hand tugs on his coat sleeve. “Garreth, what did you say?”
“I said you’re—“
“You said the woman you’ve been in love with,” you choke out the words. “Are you referring to me?”
Garreth’s face is red—a red deeper than his hair shade, so red you think he’s not taken a breath in at least a minute. “Don’t make me say it.” He mumbles.
“Are you…are you in love with me?” The words sound bizarre coming out of your mouth.
Garreth’s face turns from embarrassment to anger again, a look you’re unfamiliar with. You and Garreth have had plenty of spats over your years of friendship. It normally culminated in a bout of silence treatment and pouting, only resolved by one of you begrudgingly offering an olive branch in the form of sweets. In fact, your latest grumble had been just a week prior, when Garreth had not restocked the Lady Grey tea bags behind the desk.
No, this anger is different.
“Don’t stand there and pretend like you’ve known!” Garreth roars, every bit of the lion within him visible. “It’s—it’s hurtful of you! It’s mean, it’s malicious.”
“Me?” You scoff, stepping closer. “You’re accusing me of being malicious over something I have no idea about?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Garreth grasps his hair, rustling it from its tidy gelled state. “For Merlin’s sake, what do you think has been going on all these years?”
“I thought we were best friends,” you argue. “I thought you…” your words trail off, lost in the static that’s filling your head.
“It’s why you asked me to stay,” your voice croaks.
Garreth has his back turned to you, hands balled into fists. “Don’t. Don’t start this now.”
“Why haven’t you ever said anything?” You ask, arm lifting towards him. Your fingertips barely brush the edge of his shirt, and the little contact makes him shudder.
“I thought you knew,” Garreth shakes his head. “I thought you knew, that it was so obvious! Why else would I have asked you to stay, to not go to America, to live across the hall from me in a tiny shop?”
“I thought—“ you stumble over your words, but you can’t put them together the way you want to.
“And I was fine the way we were, acting like nothing was ever going on.” Garreth starts pacing back and forth. “That we would just be that way, and everything would be fine.”
“Garreth,” you blurt, fingers curling around his wrist. “Garreth!”
“Forget about it.” Garreth shakes you off. “I knew you’d never look at me that way—“
“I do!!” You shriek over his dismissal. “I do see you in that way.”
Garreth turns to you, brows furrowed. “What?”
“I said, I think—I think I do see you like that.” You confess. “I know you’re attractive. I do find you sexy.”
Garreth looks at you as if he’s in pain. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” he shakes his head. “It’ll kill me if you don’t.”
Your lip wobbles as you step closer; he shuts his eyes, shaking his head as if to ward you off.
“Garreth, I’ve spent the entire night glued to the wall, absolutely dreading the sight of you waltzing with a different partner.” You admit. “And all week, I’ve been thinking about how I could’ve possibly ever missed how attractive I find you, and how much I want to be with you all the time. You’re the only person who could convince me to stay, the only person I want to spend my time with. You’ve been the only person I’ve ever wanted to share ideas with, to sit with at the end of the day.”
Garreth’s eyes are still shut, shaking his head slowly. The music is muffled by laughter and the sound of glasses clinking behind heavy doors, but you two might as well be in an entirely different dimension. Right now, it’s just the two of you—the two of you, and years of pent up feelings.
“I’ve been an idiot,” you continue, your fingers rubbing the temples of your head. “Because how could I not want to be with you?”
“You’re not only saying this because of the silly article?” His voice shakes.
“The article only made me realize how stupid I am,” You whisper. “How could I not see?”
Garreth’s fists tighten, but he flexes them wide. And before you can even breathe another word, he flattens his palms against your cheeks, cupping your face.
“What are you doing?” You whisper.
“Last chance,” Garreth breathes. “If you don’t want this, say it now and we’ll forget it. We’ll go back inside, and nothing will change.”
“And if I do?” Your gloved hand ghosts the top of his wrist.
Garreth’s green eyes scan your face, lashes fluttering. “I’ll take us home now.”
“And what then?” You feel the warmth pooling low in your belly, hips pressed flush against Garreth’s.
His cheek grazes yours, lips close to your ear. “We start figuring this out now. See what being together really looks like.”
You tighten your grip around him, grasping the back of his tweed tailcoat. Faces pulled away mere inches from one another, you rise to the tips of your toes. Your lips brush against his freckled cheeks in the sweetest kiss. You know this face—have known it for ages. And although you’ve been looking at him in a different light this week, he still feels all the same. Maybe you’ve always felt this way about him. Maybe you just needed the push. If you know one thing for certain, it’s that there’s no going back now.
“Let’s go home, Garreth.” You whisper. “Let’s do this.”
Without hesitation, Garreth curls his fingers into your hair. The room fades around you as he kisses you, your bodies disappearing with a loud crack.
Sebastian can’t stop smiling.
He stands against the wall, swirling yet another glass of champagne. The room is thinning out, people departing for the evening. The party had turned out to be a bust, stalling as Witch Weekly’s third ranked bachelor disappeared in thin air.
Sebastian rolls his head to one side, smirking as Violet stalks over to him.
“Where the fuck is Weasley?” Violet snarls.
“How am I supposed to know?” Sebastian chuffs. “I wasn’t babysitting him.”
She narrows her eyes, knuckles braced on her waist. “I saw you, whispering to her. Garreth disappeared after following her. Do you know how hard I worked to get him so highly ranked on the list? I really stuck my neck out for him, and this is how he repays me?”
Sebastian shrugs, tipping his glass towards her. “Perhaps he didn’t need your little list after all.” He chuckles. “Perhaps someone had fallen for his charm all along.”
Violet huffs, stomping her little heels as she stalks away. Sebastian can’t stop, not with the vision of Garreth wrapped around her, the deliriously happy look on his face. Antagonizing her over it all night, making them fight had been worth it. She’d always needed a push in the right direction after all.