Work Text:
the room of requirement was unusually alive that friday night, laughter rippling between columns of neatly stacked cauldrons. garreth weasley’s latest fizzing whiz-beer popped merrily in its bottles, ribbons of foam arcing through the lamplight whenever someone poured a cup.
it wasn’t a raucous affair—more a gathering, as sebastian insisted—but enough students had drifted in that the normally solemn space had taken on a soft, convivial hum. spells fizzled harmlessly against the stone, the air sweetened with hops and candle smoke.
gabrielle, half-perched on a bench with her drink in hand, had never seen her classmates so alive. she had also, admittedly, never been this alive herself. a pleasant buzz softened the usual precision of her smile, made her edges warm and unguarded. for once, she let her fascination show.
“say it again,” she begged, eyes glinting.
ominis pinched the bridge of his nose. “gabrielle, for the last time, parseltongue is not a party trick. it’s unpleasant.”
“unpleasant?” she echoed, scandalized. “you sound like the ocean hissing secrets through stone.”
that earned a groan.
amit, delighted by the opening, puffed up like a proud owl. “if you want fascinating sounds, gobbledegook is far superior. did you know it doesn’t even use tenses the way english does? listen—”
he launched into a clipped stream of metallic syllables that bounced from wall to wall.
gabrielle clasped her hands as if he’d conjured fireworks. “brilliant,” she breathed. “you all make me feel terribly ordinary. nerida,” she turned, pleading, “you promised me mermish someday—”
“only when you’re near water,” nerida teased, though her grin gave her away.
the circle laughed.
all except sebastian.
he lingered in the corner, half-swallowed by shadow, a drink turning slow circles in his hand. at first her delight had been endearing—gabrielle was usually so careful, so measured. but the longer she leaned forward, eyes bright with wonder for everyone but him, the sharper the twist in his chest became. it should have been him drawing her laughter, him holding her gaze.
he finished his drink and sulked.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
by the time dawn began to seep through the castle’s windows, the party had thinned. students drifted back to their dormitories in twos and threes, garreth’s concoction leaving some giddy, others groggy.
gabrielle lingered. she had long abandoned her empty cup and leaned against one of the cold pillars, head tilted back, an uncharacteristic giggle slipping free. stray strands of dark hair clung to her flushed cheeks, loose from the half-updo she had so carefully pinned hours earlier.
sebastian crossed the stone floor slowly, until her shadow merged with his. he settled into his familiar stance: weight on one hip, head tilted, the picture of practiced nonchalance.
“you’re enjoying yourself,” he drawled.
her eyes cracked open, drowsy but bright. “mm. maybe.”
“didn’t realize i’d thrown a party just for you to swoon over everyone else’s talents.”
her laugh burst out again, light and clumsy, covering her mouth too late. “you’re cross.”
“am not,” he retorted immediately—too quickly.
that only made her smile wider. she shifted against the pillar, trying to straighten, and leaned just a fraction closer. the air between them carried the faint fizz of garreth’s brew.
“you want to know something?” she whispered, conspiratorial.
he arched a brow. “do enlighten me.”
“i can’t speak to magical creatures,” her words slurred faintly, accent thickening. “but i can teach you something better.”
before he could respond, she slipped into spanish, syllables softened by her tipsiness:
“duérmete, mi niño, duérmeteme ya…”
she giggled halfway through the lullaby, pressing a finger to her lips. “no, no, wait. i’ll teach you properly—”
she tried again, slower this time. then, with a sudden shift in cadence, her tongue curved into arabic:
“أنت جميل جداً، يا سيباستيان.”
he had no idea what she’d said, but her cheeks burned pink, and that told him enough.
he swallowed. “and what, exactly, does that mean?”
her smirk tipped crooked, her body swaying slightly. “wouldn’t you like to know.”
he tilted his head further, feigning nonchalance, though his heart thudded unevenly. “suppose i’ll have to study up.”
her laugh came softer now, lids heavy, as though even her amusement were slipping into dream. “good luck.”
by the time he coaxed her away from the pillar and guided her toward the common room, she was humming the lullaby under her breath, still smiling. sebastian, sulky as he’d been, found himself humming too.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
the library was nearly empty when gabrielle closed her ancient runes essay. she gathered her books, intent on leaving before madam scribner ushered her out, when a sound drew her attention.
the frantic scratch of a quill.
at the far table, hunched in lamplight, sat sebastian. ink smudged his knuckles, parchment sprawled before him, and towers of books leaned precariously at his elbows: latin, greek, gobbledegook, french, parseltongue, arabic.
gabrielle stopped mid-step. he didn’t notice at first, too absorbed in his furious scribbling. only when he reached for another volume did he sense her gaze. his quill stilled. he froze.
“…don’t say it,” he muttered.
her lips curved into her slow, familiar smirk. “sebastian. are you… studying every language at once?”
he sat back, arms crossing, though the tips of his ears betrayed him by turning red.
she strolled closer, setting her stack of books neatly atop his. “you’re ridiculous.”
“and you,” he countered, “are far too impressed by everyone else.”
her head tilted, chin resting lightly on her hand. “maybe i just have better taste than you think.”
the scowl slipped. his eyes searched hers, and for once, there was no shield of arrogance—only a flicker of vulnerability.
“…then perhaps,” he said carefully, “you’ll let me be the one to impress you next time.”
her gaze deepened.
“in any language you like.”