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Breakfast in the Great Hall was dragging its feet.
Most of the owls had already swept in and out again, leaving behind folded letters, parcels, and the occasional feather drifting down onto the tables. The early rush had thinned to a comfortable hum. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, bright and cool, catching in goblets and polished apples alike.
Garreth leaned back in his chair, tipping his head to drain a generous gulp of pumpkin juice before setting the glass down with a decisive thud.
“Alright. You know Sebastian and Ominis?” he asked, wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve.
Amit, seated across from him with a carefully buttered slice of toast, looked up slowly. “Our friends, you mean?” he asked dryly, one eyebrow lifting.
“Exactly.” Garreth nodded with exaggerated solemnity, as if this were a formal meeting rather than breakfast. He leaned forward, lowering his voice despite the fact that no one nearby seemed to be paying them the slightest attention. “I think it’s time we address the elephant in the room.”
Poppy, cradling a teacup between both hands, frowned over the rim. “We shouldn’t talk about people when they’re not here,” she said, glancing instinctively down the table, as though Sebastian and Ominis might appear out of nowhere.
Garreth waved a dismissive hand. “This is for a good cause, Poppy. Trust me.” He leaned in a bit more, conspiratorial now. “You’ve all noticed it, haven’t you?”
A brief pause settled over the table.
“Noticed what?” Natty asked carefully, though her expression suggested she already knew the answer.
Garreth’s grin widened. “That they like each other,” he said. Then, after a beat, added, “As in … like each other. More than friends.”
Amit inhaled through his nose, lips pressing together. “That’s not an elephant,” he said at last. “That’s more of a… very obvious hippogriff standing directly in front of us.”
Poppy’s frown deepened, though there was a hint of reluctant understanding there now. “They are close,” she allowed. “But that doesn’t mean it’s our business.”
Imelda, who had been quietly stabbing at a sausage, finally looked up. “It becomes our business when they spend half their time circling each other and the other half pretending they aren’t,” she said flatly. “It’s painful to watch.”
Anne snorted into her tea.
Garreth looked around the table, eyes bright with vindication. “See? I’m not the only one who’s noticed. And honestly—” he spread his hands, nearly knocking over Amit’s goblet “—how long are we supposed to sit around pretending this isn’t happening?”
Amit sighed, setting his toast down with care. “I suppose,” he said slowly, “that statistically speaking, the probability of them not realising their own feelings at this point is… low.”
Garreth beamed. “Exactly. And as our friends, I believe it’s our duty to … give them a nudge in the right direction.”
“You mean… we’re supposed to push them into it?” Amit asked, brows knitting in scepticism.
Anne snorted loudly. Everyone turned towards her. She lifted her hands in surrender.
“Nothing. Don’t mind me.”
“I find it physically painful to be in the same room as them,” Garreth went on, lowering his voice as if delivering state secrets. “Sebastian looks at Ominis' mouth like it’s personally wronged him. It’s basically the same thing as blokes staring at a girl’s chest instead of her face when she’s talking.”
Imelda groaned. “Why are you such a perv?”
“I didn’t say I do it!” Garreth protested, nearly sloshing his juice. “I said it’s like that. It was an analogy. And Ominis always tilts his head towards Sebastian when he speaks, like he wants to… I don’t know, drink in his voice.”
Natty rolled her eyes.
“Brilliant, Garreth. He’s blind. Of course he leans closer to hear.”
But Garreth only shook his head again. “His hearing’s excellent. He doesn’t do it with anyone else. Only Sebastian.”
“So what exactly are we meant to do?” Poppy asked. From her bag, she produced a baby puffskein and discreetly stroked it under the table. Her friends didn’t even bat an eye at it.
“It needs style,” Garreth declared, gesturing with one hand as though outlining a grand plan in the air. “Finesse. We can’t just shove them together like two scraps of glued parchment. We need an actual strategy.”
“Do you have one, then?” Imelda asked, unimpressed.
Garreth made a dramatic pause.
“Amortentia. In both their drinks.”
“No,” everyone said at once. Garreth pouted.
“But it would be the funniest option.”
“It’s also forbidden,” Amit pointed out, sounding genuinely scandalised. “I think we should compile statistics for them and show the percentage of best friends who end up together. We could also take them stargazing and demonstrate how the constellations—”
“No,” everyone interrupted again. Amit fell silent and glared at them over the rim of his mug.
“I think we should take them to a poacher camp and rescue—”
“No.”
Natty let out a loud groan and slumped back in her seat. “This is never going to work. We’re never going to agree on anything.”
For a moment, the table fell into a thoughtful silence, broken only by the scrape of cutlery against porcelain and the soft, contented snuffling of Poppy’s puffskein tucked against her side. The animal shifted, curling in on himself with a pleased little huff, utterly unconcerned with the social implosion apparently unfolding above his head.
Garreth, however, was very much concerned.
His gaze drifted from face to face, thoughtful now rather than excitable. He drummed his fingers against the table once, twice — then straightened abruptly, eyes lighting up.
“Alright,” he said, the grin returning in full force. “I’ve got it.”
Several people groaned on instinct.
“We make it a competition,” Garreth continued, undeterred. “Everyone comes up with their own idea. We take turns. And whichever idea actually gets them together properly, like dating-and-kissing-together, wins.”
There was a beat of silence as the words settled.
Anne was the first to cut in, her voice dry. “So,” she said slowly, “let me get this straight. You're suggesting we gamble with our friends’ love lives?”
Garreth shrugged, completely unbothered, already reaching for his pumpkin juice again. “When you put it like that, it sounds bad. But really, it’s just… incentivised encouragement.”
Anne’s eyes narrowed. “That did not make it better.”
Natty leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, considering. “And what does the winner get?” she asked.
Garreth paused, frowning faintly as though this part were a minor detail he hadn’t bothered with yet. “I don’t know. Five Galleons each from the rest of you?”
Amit choked a little on his breath. “Five each?”
“Motivation,” Garreth said cheerfully.
The group exchanged looks; quick, assessing glances that said this is ridiculous and this is absolutely going to happen in equal measure. Imelda’s mouth curved into something sharp and competitive. Poppy hesitated, eyes flicking down to Mr Snuffles as if seeking moral guidance. The puffskein yawned.
“Well,” Poppy said at last, with a small sigh, “as long as nobody gets hurt.”
“I’m in,” Imelda said immediately, leaning back in her chair. “And I intend to win.”
Amit hesitated the longest, lips pressed thin, clearly weighing ethics against curiosity. Finally, he gave a stiff nod. “Fine,” he said. “But purely from an observational standpoint.”
Garreth’s grin spread, triumphant.
“Brilliant! Alright, a few rules: no outside help. You’re not allowed to tell them outright that we’re trying to set them up. One attempt only; if they don’t get together immediately afterwards, your turn’s over.”
He pulled out a bit of parchment, tore it into smaller pieces, scribbled everyone’s names down, then crumpled the scraps one by one. He tipped them into an empty goblet, gave it a vigorous shake, and plunged his hand inside.
“And the first person is…”
Anne
“No,” Anne said flatly. “I’m not participating.”
“What? Oh, come on!” Garreth protested. “Don’t you want your brother to be happy?”
Anne seemed to suffer a brief, haunted flashback and shuddered. “I do, but I’m not getting involved while you lot tinker with his love life. You’re welcome to, but I’m not wasting time on it.”
“Boring!” Garreth pouted dramatically. “Come on, Anne. For the sake of love!”
Anne glared at him. “Fine. Here’s my contribution. Garreth, move over to this side.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
Garreth stood with an demonstrative sigh, shuffled around the bench, and plopped down beside Anne. That left Anne, Imelda, Amit, and Garreth all lined up on one side of the table, while Poppy and Natty stayed opposite.
Garreth frowned, baffled. “How exactly is this supposed to—?”
“Oi! Sebastian! Over here!” Anne shouted, waving her arm high. Everyone turned just in time to spot Sebastian and Ominis entering the Great Hall together, walking close, Ominis with his wand held lightly in front of him as usual. Sebastian caught sight of them, nudged Ominis' sleeve, and steered their path towards the table.
“Hi!”
He dropped onto the bench beside Poppy and tugged Ominis down next to him. Sebastian immediately reached across for a slice of toast, while Ominis poured himself a cup of tea. Within moments Sebastian launched into an animated rant about Professor Binns’s assigned chapters, declaring them a crime against humanity and insisting no one should ever be expected to read four chapters in under two days.
“Was this your plan?” Garreth whispered to Anne after a minute or two. Anne shrugged lightly.
“They’re sitting next to each other, aren’t they?”
Garreth straightened slowly, wearing the dubious look of someone trying very hard to be supportive. “I suppose so…”
When breakfast wrapped up and everyone got to their feet for class, Ominis and Sebastian had — somehow — managed not to snog each other senseless over toast. The others hung back a little, letting the pair walk ahead towards the classroom.
"Alright, Anne," Garreth said somewhat hesitantly. "That was a ... noble attempt, though I do feel like your plan could have contained more ... detailed actions."
"I told you I don't even want to participate. That's all you're getting," replied Anne and held up her hands.
Garreth made a resigned gesture, and began rummaging in his pocket.
“All right, the next person is…”
Amit
Amit straightened a book so it lined up perfectly with the edge of the table. He felt extremely pleased with himself for securing a small table tucked away in a corner on the library’s top floor, half-hidden behind a few bookcases and a statue. Now all he needed was…
“Hello!”
Ominis and Sebastian rounded the end of a bookcase, each with their school bag slung over one shoulder. Amit sat up a little straighter.
“H-hello!” he chirped, perhaps a shade too brightly. He cleared his throat. “Have a seat.”
Sebastian glanced at the empty chairs. “Why did you pick a table for four people when there were supposed to be eight of us?”
Amit swore inwardly. Sebastian was usually never this observant about practical details.
“Oh.” He hesitated. “Imelda… had Quidditch practice she forgot about. And… Poppy and Natty decided to study on their own.”
Sebastian pulled out a chair for Ominis before taking a seat himself. “Right, and where are Anne and Garreth?”
Amit blinked. “Anne… will be here later. And Garreth… has… detention, because he blew up a cauldron?” It came out as more of a question than an explanation.
Sebastian considered it for a moment, then seemed convinced. He shrugged.
“All right.” He tugged a few textbooks towards himself, began flicking through them. “Bit odd to schedule a group study session and then not turn up.”
Amit forced a nervous little laugh. “Yes, well… you know our friends. Terrible at keeping time.”
Ominis sighed. “I’m not surprised. Except Anne perhaps. She’s always punctual…”
“Why are there candles on the table?” Sebastian interrupted, eyeing the small lit taper with suspicion. “And why are there so many biscuits?”
Amit reached for a cauldron cake and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. “I was a bit hungry after… after lunch, so I thought it’d be nice to have something sweet while we studied.”
Ominis frowned. “We’re not even allowed to have sweets in the library—”
“You know what?” Amit cut in hastily, swallowing hard and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I completely forgot I… I had a star observation to get to. But you two can stay and study.” He stood up so quickly the chair nearly toppled backwards. Sebastian stared at him in utter confusion.
“But it’s not even dark out—”
“Oh, look at the time, I’ve got to run! See you!”
Amit darted around the corner. The last thing he heard was Ominis murmuring:
“Do you also think our friends are acting strangely?”
As dinner approached, the group gathered again and stared toward the doors of the Great Hall in tight anticipation. Amit had reported his plan — to strand Sebastian and Ominis on a romantic study date — and the others had patted him on the back for the attempt. But when Sebastian and Ominis walked in — close, yes, but not we’ve-started-dating close — the entire table let out a collective sigh. Garreth reached into his pocket again.
“Good try, Amit. The next person is…”
Poppy
“Hi, Poppy! I got your owl — was it urgent?” Sebastian called as he approached, his voice carrying easily across the slope. “Something about rescuing more puffskeins from a poacher camp?”
Poppy turned at the sound of his voice, careful not to jostle the small, warm bundle tucked against her chest. Mr Snuffles made an indignant little noise at the movement, then settled again, nose poking out from the crook of her arm.
Sebastian and Ominis were making their way up the hill toward her, cloaks fluttering in the soft breeze. It was day two of Operation Get Our Idiot Friends To Admit Their Feelings And Finally Get Together And Stop Torturing Us With Their Yearning Looks (“Yes, Amit, I know Ominis can’t throw yearning looks, but can’t I have something fun in life, honestly?”).
“Hello!” Poppy said brightly, shifting her grip so Mr Snuffles peeked out properly. “Oh — no, nothing urgent. Mr Snuffles just wanted a bit of fresh air. I thought it might be nice to spend some time outside.”
Sebastian slowed to a stop a few steps away, clearly recalibrating. “So… you don’t need help rescuing a creature from a poacher camp?” he asked, sounding faintly disappointed.
Poppy bit her lip, guilt flickering briefly through her. Turning down a rescue mission always felt wrong on a spiritual level. But this — this — was for the greater good.
“Not at the moment,” she said apologetically. “I was just wondering if you two could help me keep an eye on Mr Snuffles for a bit.”
She reached into her pocket and produced a small paper twist of puffskein treats. “Here — Ominis. Would you like to try to feed him?”
Ominis hesitated, his expression cautious but curious. After a moment, he held out his hand, palm up. Poppy dropped a few treats into it and gently nudged Mr Snuffles forward.
The puffskein sniffed the air, whiskers twitching, then leaned in and carefully nibbled one of the treats from Ominis’ palm.
Ominis jolted slightly, letting out a surprised huff of laughter before he could stop himself.
“That tickles.”
“I know! Isn’t it lovely? Do you want to hold him?”
Before Ominis could protest, Poppy carefully transferred the small creature into his arms. He caught it on instinct, stiff at first as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do. But Mr Snuffles was nothing if not affectionate; he burrowed immediately into the crook of Ominis' elbow. Slowly, Ominis relaxed, holding the creature close, a tentative but protective embrace forming around him.
“He’s… so soft and light,” he murmured, a little transfixed, stroking Mr Snuffles gently on the head.
Poppy watched Sebastian closely. Few sights in the world were sweeter than baby magical creatures. Add a person holding said baby creature, and bam. Recipe for longing looks, sudden emotional clarity, confessions imminent…
Sebastian’s cheeks were indeed slightly pink as he watched the puffskein snuffling contentedly in Ominis' arms.
“He’s adorable,” he muttered. Poppy straightened with satisfaction — until she realised Sebastian meant Mr Snuffles, not Ominis.
“Can I pet him?” Sebastian continued, reaching out a hand.
Even though Poppy stepped back and pretended to reorganise her bag while Mr Snuffles was passed back and forth between Sebastian and Ominis — both boys murmuring encouragement and soft compliments at the little creature — neither of them confessed any deeply buried feelings by the time they handed Mr Snuffles back.
Poppy let out a long, weary sigh as she watched the boys turn and head back towards the castle.
“It didn’t work, Mr Snuffles,” she said gloomily, stroking the tiny puffskein’s head. “But you did a very good job.”
A little later, gathered around a table in the library that had become known as their Operation Sebinis table (Amit refused to say the full operation name ever again), Poppy recounted her failed plan. Natty patted her shoulder.
“It was a good idea, Poppy. Even I wouldn’t have been able to resist the power of Mr Snuffles. But we all know Sebastian is an incredibly tough nut to crack.” She looked pointedly at Garreth. “Who’s next?”
As usual, Garreth reached into his pocket, rummaged for one of the folded slips, and smoothed it open.
“Our next lucky contestant is…”
Imelda
“Here’s my game plan.”
Imelda nudged the broom lying on the grass, and it shot straight into her hand like a catapult.
“We’ll take a proper flight around the Quidditch pitch. Maybe toss a ball about, have a bit of a race, just… fly for fun.”
The pitch stretched out behind her, green and open beneath a wide sky, the hoops standing tall and silent in the afternoon light. The other brooms still lay scattered across the grass, innocuous-looking and deeply untrustworthy.
Amit, Poppy, and Anne eyed them with identical suspicion.
“And this is supposed to make them get together… how?” Amit asked.
Imelda pointed at them. Amit flinched and half-hid behind Natty.
“We’re flying in pairs,” Imelda said briskly. “And since most of you here have clearly missed the sacred message of Quidditch and failed to understand the holy lifestyle—” she flicked her hair back over her shoulder, “—Anne flies with me. Natty with Poppy. Garreth with Amit.”
She paused, letting it sink in.
“That forces Sebastian and Ominis to fly together.” A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. “And honestly, is there anything more romantic than sitting pressed together on a broom several hundred feet in the air, holding onto each other watching as the world rushes by beneath you?”
Garreth opened his mouth. Imelda shot him a death-glare.
“No blind jokes.”
Garreth shut his mouth.
Natty looked thoughtful. “This might actually work,” she said, turning to Poppy. “Would you like to sit in front of me or behind me?”
Poppy looked horrified. “I’d rather not sit on a broom at all, thank you. I’m terrified Mr Snuffles will fall out.”
The others froze.
“…You brought Mr Snuffles to the Quidditch pitch?” Anne asked slowly.
“I didn’t know what Imelda was planning!” Poppy protested. She patted the small bump under her jumper where Mr Snuffles was hiding. Imelda closed her eyes, drew a breath, and then flicked her wand with a sharp, efficient movement. She muttered a quick spell, and in the next moment a small, sturdy chest-sling materialised and fastened itself securely across Poppy’s front.
“There,” she said. “Put him in that.”
Poppy obediently transferred Mr Snuffles, who squeaked once before settling, his nose poking out comfortably.
Imelda turned to Anne. “You’re fine flying with me, yes?”
Anne snorted. “I think the only people with real problems here are Garreth and Amit.”
She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. Garreth was already mounted on his broom, while Amit stood beside him looking utterly distraught.
“I’m not climbing onto a stick that will drop me to my death,” Amit declared. Garreth groaned loudly.
“You study stars and cosmic energy every night, but when you get the chance to get closer to them, you don’t take it?”
Amit seemed tempted by the logic, but folded his arms stubbornly.
“I don’t want to die.”
Imelda stepped onto her broom and floated over to them, hovering just inches above the grass. “Is there a problem?”
Amit jumped.
“No! None at all!” he squeaked. He scrambled onto the broom behind Garreth with surprising speed. Garreth let out a grunt as Amit’s weight hit the broom.
“Mate, you need more exercise than just the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.”
“Hush!” Natty hissed. “Here they come.”
Ominis and Sebastian approached. Sebastian had his own broom in hand. He surveyed the absolute chaos before him: Amit wobbling behind Garreth and not fully mounted; Anne standing with her arms crossed, deeply regretting her life choices; Poppy trying to swing a leg over Natty’s broom while clutching Mr Snuffles in the sling.
“What… is happening?”
Imelda recovered immediately.
“We thought we’d go for a fly,” she said loftily. “Bit of a race, maybe a few rings. But you’re late, so we’ve already paired up. You two will have to fly together.”
Ominis frowned. “It’s five to four, and we were told to meet at four. We’re early.”
“You’re late compared to us,” Imelda snapped. “Let’s go!”
Imelda’s plan actually went well. Sebastian climbed onto his broom, and Ominis slid on behind him, albeit with deeply suspicious muttering.
“I don’t want to die, Sebastian.”
“Oh come on, have you no faith in my flying skills?”
“No. Especially not when I won’t be able to see anything as I plummet to my death from three hundred metres up.”
“Doesn’t that make it easier? Not being able to see it coming?”
Eventually, though, everyone was airborne. Amit and Ominis looked equally pale, though Ominis relaxed a little after a while. Anne and Poppy were laughing delightedly, while Imelda and Natty were racing each other and performing huge loops in the air.
At one point Garreth, Natty, and Imelda flew close enough to talk.
“It’s going pretty well, right?” Garreth nodded toward the pair behind them. Sebastian and Ominis were circling lazily in a wide arc. Sebastian was pointing at the forest, clearly describing something, gesturing enthusiastically. The broom wobbled dangerously when he let go with one hand. Ominis' scolding travelled all the way across the pitch.
Amit squeezed his eyes shut. “Either they fall for each other, or they fall off the broom. Or maybe they’ll bond through the trauma.” His fingers were locked in a death-grip around Garreth’s waist.
“It is rather romantic, flying over the lake,” Poppy added. “Look, you can see all the way to Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest.”
It was, honestly, a lovely flight. They passed a Quaffle back and forth, Garreth and Imelda raced (almost giving Amit a heart attack), and everyone chatted casually in the air. Even Sebastian and Ominis seemed to enjoy themselves, joining the chatter and the games, Ominis with a faint, delighted blush now that his initial terror had worn off.
And yet, when they finally landed, not a single magical, romantic broom-kiss had occurred. Sebastian grabbed his broom, muttered something about needing to rush to a detention with Professor Weasley, and hurried off. Ominis said he needed to study in the library and vanished right after him, wand glowing red in front of him.
The entire group groaned once the boys were gone.
“This is harder than I thought,” Natty admitted. “They’re unbelievably dense.”
Imelda crossed her arms. “I don’t understand how Quidditch didn’t work.”
Amit sat down on the grass and took slow, deep breaths. “I can understand that perfectly.”
Garreth looked thoughtful. “Maybe we’ve been too subtle. Too trusting that they’ll figure things out on their own. We might need… stronger measures.”
He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out the next paper slip. A grin stretched across his face.
“And that, we can definitely arrange. Because the next person is…”
Garreth
“Look, I know Amortentia is illegal. But this isn’t quite Amortentia. It’s a mixture of Amortentia and Veritaserum.”
Garreth held up a tiny glass vial. The liquid inside was pale lavender, almost sparkling.
“I don’t know if I should be worried or impressed,” Natty said, eyeing the shimmering mixture. “How did you even make that?”
Garreth shrugged. “Started the Amortentia brew, swapped a few key ingredients for ones used in Veritaserum, then followed the Veritaserum instructions but kept the heat at Amortentia level. And — bam.”
Amit actually looked impressed. “Maybe you’re not all exploding cauldrons and detentions,” he said, taking the vial gingerly and rolling it between his fingers.
Garreth straightened proudly. “Exactly. And I’m thinking Sebastian is the most likely to blurt out a terrible love confession. I’ll tip the whole thing into his pumpkin juice at dinner, and bam! He won’t be able to stop himself admitting his feelings for Ominis.”
Anne spoke up, hesitant. “Should we really force him to confess in the middle of the Great Hall?”
Imelda gave her a flat stare. “Sweetheart, they’ve made us suffer through their pining for years. The least they can do is let us have a bit of fun.”
Dinner that evening quickly settled into its usual clatter of cutlery and chatter. Plates and pots scraped against the long tables, candles drifted overhead in lazy arcs, and the air smelled of roasted vegetables, gravy, and warm bread. Poppy sat with Mr Snuffles tucked securely into the sling across her chest, his little nose twitching every time someone passed too close.
Hobhouse, unfortunately, noticed him.
The Ravenclaw let out a sharp, undignified squeal as Mr Snuffles poked his head out, sending several nearby students into startled laughter. Sebastian turned in his seat to see what the fuss was about, attention momentarily stolen.
Garreth didn’t waste the opening.
He leaned across the table and tipped the vial. The violet liquid slipped soundlessly into Sebastian’s glass, catching the candlelight as it vanished beneath the pumpkin juice.
When Sebastian turned back, none the wiser, Garreth straightened and put on an innocent, thoughtful look.
“I still don’t understand how Hobhouse even got into a school for witches and wizards when he wets himself every time he sees a magical creature,” Sebastian commented, shaking his head.
Then he downed the rest of his pumpkin juice.
Everyone stared breathlessly. Sebastian frowned, wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"Hm. Did you also think the pumpkin juice tasted a bit weird?"
"Yep," Imelda said quickly. "Must've been some kitchen mishaps with the house elves, maybe."
Ominis frowned. "I didn't think it tasted different."
"Well," Garreth said, "maybe you poured from another pot."
Ominis seemed a bit suspicious, but thankfully dropped it. Everyone else kept their eyes not so discreetly trained on Sebastian, who noticed after a minute or two and frowned.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
“No,” Garreth said quickly, throat dry. He cleared it and forced a laugh that sounded entirely unconvincing. “So. What did you and Ominis get up to today?”
Sebastian glanced at Ominis, who was absently pushing food around his plate. The whole group seemed to hold their breath as Sebastian looked at him. For a moment, it looked like his gaze lingered — soft, warm, almost fond. Had the potion worked? Was Sebastian about to realise his feelings and blurt out some grand confession right over his chicken drumsticks?
Then he turned back to the others, shrugged, and said casually:
“Nothing much. Went over the Transfiguration homework. Took a walk through the greenhouses. That’s it.” He shoveled another mouthful of food in.
Garreth looked utterly lost.
“Right… nothing else?” he tried. Sebastian, cheeks full, shook his head.
Beside him, Ominis frowned slightly. He nudged a piece of potato around his plate with the tines of his fork, expression sharpening as he registered the strange intensity being aimed at Sebastian.
“Why are you so curious, Weasley?”
Garreth coughed.
“No reason,” he muttered.
An uncomfortable beat settled over them. Cutlery clinked. Someone at the next table laughed too loudly. The potion, apparently, had decided to take the evening off.
Imelda inhaled, straightened, and for once decided to lend her considerable force to the cause.
“Your hair looks really nice today, Ominis,” she said firmly. “When you slick it back like that, you look much more mature.” She turned sharply toward Sebastian. “Don’t you agree?”
Sebastian blinked and glanced at Ominis again, clearly thrown.
“Um…” he said, hesitating. “Yeah? It looks nice, I guess?”
Ominis’ frown deepened. Even he now looked suspicious. One hand came up to pat his already flattened, slicked back hair.
“I style it like this every day,” he said slowly.
“Well,” Poppy said quickly, leaning forward with a hopeful smile, “it just looks extra nice today, we think.” She glanced at Sebastian for support. “Right?”
Sebastian threw up his hands.
“Why is everyone asking for my opinion all the time?” he demanded. “Merlin, I didn’t know I was the authority on Ominis’ hair.”
Silence.
Garreth stared down at his plate, shoulders sagging. With a muttered curse, he stabbed his chicken drumstick with far more aggression than strictly necessary.
“Forget it,” he said under his breath.
Later, after dinner, when Ominis and Sebastian had already disappeared down towards the Slytherin common room, the group reconvened.
“This is a disaster,” Garreth complained. “What do we do if they never get together? I’m going to die if I have to watch Sebastian wipe sauce off Ominis' lip again, or Ominis put a hand on Sebastian’s to stop him punching Leander in class.”
“…It might be that you brewed it wrong,” Poppy suggested gently. Garreth slumped onto a bench, defeated.
“Potion error or stubborn obliviousness — I don’t know what the problem is. I only know I can’t watch them orbit each other like two magnets any longer.”
Everyone turned to Natty.
“All hope rests on you,” Imelda said solemnly.
Natty nodded slowly.
“I think I have an idea.”
Natty
“My plan is finished.”
It was the next day, and the group were gathered as usual at dinner. They all looked up in surprise at Natty, who slid into her seat beside Imelda and began helping herself to food.
“What?” They exchanged bewildered looks. “Your plan for what?”
“My part of the plan to get Sebastian and Ominis together,” Natty said casually, pouring herself some pumpkin juice.
Garreth blinked. “And we didn’t even get to hear what it was?”
Natty shrugged. “There wasn’t much to see.”
“Wait.” Anne glanced around. “Where are they?”
Imelda, Poppy, and Amit also craned their necks, but the targets of their operation were nowhere to be found. And Ominis and Sebastian were hardly difficult to spot in a room. Sebastian’s low, lazy laugh always drifted through the chatter, and Ominis' dry, cutting comments were unmistakable.
“Ah,” Natty said, spearing a sausage. “That’s part of the plan. They’re locked up.”
Everyone froze and stared at her as she continued eating as though she’d said nothing unusual.
“Sorry,” Amit said, “did you say locked up?”
Natty nodded.
“I… where? How?” Anne asked suspiciously.
Natty shrugged again. “In one of the broom cupboards on the second floor. It was really easy. I told Sebastian there was a mysterious hole in the wall that might lead somewhere. He wanted to investigate immediately, Ominis followed to stop him from doing something stupid, and then I shut the door and locked it. Put an anti-Alohomora charm on it as well.”
Garreth looked torn between being impressed and deeply concerned for his friends. “And how long were you planning to leave them in there?”
Natty paused, tapping her fork against her plate as she considered the question.
“I actually didn’t think about that. Maybe until after dinner?”
“No,” Imelda groaned at once, dragging a hand down her face. “If Sebastian doesn’t eat, he’ll whinge in the common room all night.”
Natty sighed, conceding the point. “Fine. We’ll let them out when there’s about fifteen minutes left of dinner, then.” She took a sip of pumpkin juice. “And let’s hope an hour in a cramped, dark space gets them talking.”
The table fell into a tense, anticipatory silence.
As it turned out, they didn’t even get the chance to let them out.
With just over twenty minutes of dinner remaining, the doors to the Great Hall opened again, and Sebastian and Ominis stumbled inside together, breath a little rushed, cloaks slightly rumpled from haste rather than anything more incriminating.
The group straightened in their seats at once.
Unfortunately, both of them looked… fine.
Proper. Composed. If a bit strained in the very ordinary way of two people who didn't want to miss dinner.
No flushed cheeks. No loosened ties. No hands lingering where they shouldn’t.
They spotted their friends and hurried over. Sebastian dropped into his seat and immediately began piling food onto his plate with single-minded determination, as though making up for lost time.
“Natty, that cleaning cupboard you showed us was cursed!” he complained dramatically. “The door slammed shut and we couldn’t get out.”
Natty blinked innocently. “Oh no, how awful!” she said with a sympathetic nod. “How did you get out?”
Sebastian jerked a thumb at Ominis, mouth now full of food.
“He knows a pretty advanced form of Alohomora. Took a few tries, but he got the lock open eventually.”
“It wasn’t a particularly powerful locking charm,” Ominis said loftily. “Even you could have solved it in time, Sebastian.”
“Oi!” protested both Natty and Sebastian. Natty froze as Sebastian gave her a puzzled look.
“I mean… that wasn’t very nice. You’re quite clever sometimes, Sallow,” she attempted weakly. Sebastian brightened instantly.
“I say that all the time! But Ominis is actually smarter,” he admitted, patting Ominis on the head. Ominis tilted away with a long-suffering scowl.
When dinner was finished, Ominis said he needed to go to the Owlery to send a letter. Sebastian wished his friends goodnight and headed back to the Slytherin common room.
“This is a disaster.”
Garreth raked his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of a suit of armour that seemed irritated by his muttering.
“I don’t understand. Nothing. Nothing has worked. What is wrong with them?”
“What’s wrong,” sighed Imelda, sitting on the floor with her back against the cold stone wall, “is that they’re too thick to admit it. That’s it. We can’t do any more.”
“We gave it a good effort,” Amit agreed. “But I think it’s time to accept defeat.”
Poppy sniffled and stroked Mr Snuffles in his sling. “You did the best job of all, Mr Snuffles.”
“My idea was great too!” Imelda protested. “Apart from Natty’s plan, they’ve never been closer than when they were on that broom.”
“Amit got them to have a fairly romantic date in the library, even if they didn’t realise it,” Garreth pointed out. He let out a long sigh, stopped pacing, and looked over his defeated troop.
“You know,” he said slowly. “I think I know what our mistake is.”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Garreth straightened, like a general preparing to send his troops into battle.
“Yes. We’ve been approaching the problem individually all this time, driven by the forces of capitalism. When really, the solution is that we need to do it…”
together
The plan was simple.
They walked as a united front towards the Slytherin common room, where Imelda would open the entrance for them. Hopefully Ominis was back from the Owlery and Sebastian hadn’t gone to bed yet. The plan was to corner the two idiots and say: “Please. Snog. Spare us this suffering.” Hopefully, that would finally get them together.
“Your common room is so… gloomy,” Poppy mumbled as they descended the stairs. Like Amit, she had never been inside Slytherin’s common room before. Mr Snuffles shifted nervously inside the sling bag.
“It’s absolutely terrible for stargazing,” Amit added uneasily. “That green light from the lake… it’s a bit unnerving.”
Imelda shrugged. “Well, you could flip the script and study the seabed instead of the sky.”
Amit shuddered. “I’d prefer not to spend any more time down here than necessary.”
They came to a halt at the entrance to the common room, craning their necks as they scanned the room.
“Right,” Garreth muttered. “Where are the idiots?”
Normally, locating Sebastian and Ominis was the easiest task imaginable. Sebastian’s lazy drawl and Ominis’ lofty, unimpressed commentary could cut through most chatter and noise.
But now—
“Do you see them?” Poppy whispered.
Everyone shook their heads.
Anne, who had been trailing behind disinterestedly, folded her arms. “Maybe they went to bed early.”
“No,” Imelda said with absolute conviction, “Sebastian doesn’t do anything early.”
But the common room was notably empty; a pair of younger students whispered over homework in a corner, a first-year hurried past with an armful of books.
Garreth let out a sigh. “Brilliant. There’s almost no one here except those girls over there studying, and the couple kissing on the sofa—”
Everyone snapped their heads around so fast that Poppy yelped and nearly dropped Mr Snuffles.
“—the what?” they all hissed at once.
Garreth blinked. “The… couple kissing on the—”
He froze.
Because even though the pair on the sofa were only visible from behind, the group collectively recognised a certain head of floppy dark hair and another head inclined towards it in unmistakable familiarity.
“Is… is that…?” Amit breathed.
“Surely not,” Imelda whispered, sounding personally offended. “We would’ve heard about this.”
They moved closer, creeping with the stealth of badly trained Aurors. And there, settled comfortably together, completely unaware of their audience, were Sebastian and Ominis.
They weren’t even wildly snogging, or touching. Ominis sat with Sebastian’s arm around his shoulder, face tilted up as Sebastian pecked him again. Soft, chaste, close-mouthed kisses, as if they’d done this a thousand times before.
When they parted, Ominis leaned back against Sebastian’s shoulder with a small, contented sigh while Sebastian held a book in one hand and absentmindedly brushed his lips over Ominis’ temple.
The group stared, mouths hanging open.
Imelda recovered first. In typical fashion, she didn’t hesitate: she marched straight up to the pair and planted herself in front of them, arms crossed. Sebastian raised an eyebrow when he saw her.
“Alright, Reyes?”
“Alright?” Imelda growled. “You tell me what’s alright. What exactly is this?”
She jabbed an accusatory finger at them. Sebastian followed the gesture slowly. He looked down at Ominis, who tilted his head slightly in silent question, then back up at Imelda.
“What’s what?”
Garreth finally jolted back to life and hurried over, nearly tripping over his own feet as he joined Imelda at the front.
“This!” He flailed his hands dramatically. “All of this! You! You’re kissing! Since when?”
Ominis frowned, baffled. “Since the beginning of summer?”
Even Mr Snuffles seemed stunned by that revelation. Sebastian and Ominis gazed at their friends in mild confusion; their friends stared back as though someone had just rewritten the laws of magic.
“I — what? We’ve been trying to get you two together all week!” Imelda exclaimed, genuinely offended. “Are you telling me you were together this whole time?”
“Oh, is that why you’ve been acting so odd?” Sebastian stretched a little, as if this were a perfectly ordinary Friday evening and not a moment of catastrophic revelation for everyone present.
Even Amit looked insulted now.
“We had plans! Strategies! Calculations! And you just… you just—”
“Well,” Sebastian said, sitting up a bit and moving his arm away from Ominis, who looked thoroughly put out by the loss of contact—“it’s hardly news. We spent the entire summer together in Feldcroft. I told you before we came back to school.”
Natty looked utterly confused. “When did you tell us this?”
Sebastian squinted at them, as though genuinely beginning to worry for their collective wellbeing.
“Er… in that Floo call we had before term started? I said that ‘Ominis and I are together now’.”
His friends blinked in unison, sifting through their memories like someone had handed them a very difficult riddle. Garreth threw his hands up.
“We thought you meant ‘together’ as in physically together, right there, in the moment!”
Sebastian winked. “Oh, trust me, we were physically together.”
Anne made a disgusted noise. Poppy slapped her hands over Mr Snuffles’s ears.
“Oh, stop,” Imelda groaned. “You know what we meant. We thought you and Ominis were just hanging out together, because you were calling from the same Floo fireplace.”
“We were,” Sebastian said with a shrug. He leaned back again and immediately wrapped his arm around Ominis, who settled against him with a small huff of satisfaction. “Huh. Would you look at that. What a misunderstanding.”
He gave them a lazy, slightly crooked smile. The others still looked as though someone had handed them a sphinx’s riddle and wished them luck.
“Wait.” Garreth spun around to Anne. “Does this mean you knew about this the entire time?”
Anne shrugged. “Hard not to. There are some sounds no silencing spells or ear plugs can block out.” She seemed to have some sort of traumatic flashback and shuddered.
“But why did you let us keep making plans like a bunch of idiots, then?” Garreth demanded, flinging his arms. Anne raised an eyebrow.
“Because it was fun?”
“I wagered five Galleons! That’s half my allowance!” Imelda burst out.
“And I nearly fell off a broom and died!” Amit added with the despair of someone revisiting a near-death trauma.
“And Mr Snuffles was subjected to forced animal labor,” Poppy agreed solemnly, stroking the puffskein protectively.
Sebastian and Ominis witnessed the conversation bounce between their friends with increasingly alarmed expressions, like they weren’t sure whether to laugh, apologise, or file a report with the Auror Office about gambling rings centered around their love life.
“I can’t believe I stole ingredients from Sharp’s private stores and got detention for brewing a fully functional, newly invented potion that did work — only for me to think it didn’t because Sebastian was already in love with Ominis!”
“Okay, okay!” Sebastian cut in, when it became clear the situation was spiraling out of control. “Thank you for your… frankly terrifying dedication to my and Ominis’ romantic wellbeing, but it’s all fine now. Really. It’s… sweet. And only a little horrifying to hear how much you did to push us together. But we are together, so technically you succeeded, right?”
“Hold on,” Imelda said, folding her arms again. “Someone still has to win. I’m not just going to walk away from a competition with no closure.”
They all looked at each other again, bristling with competitive energy.
“I think my idea with the library date was the most romantic,” Amit insisted primly.
“And my broom excursion wasn’t?” Imelda shot back.
“I literally brewed a love potion,” Garreth said indignantly, “and the only reason it didn’t work was because Sebastian was already so in love with Ominis he didn’t react to it.”
“I locked them in a broom cupboard for nearly an hour. If we’re judging on physical proximity, I win,” Natty declared.
“That was you?” Sebastian stared at her. Natty ignored him.
“My idea was the cutest, and Mr Snuffles was well taken care of. I got something out of it even if they didn’t get together from it,” Poppy added.
“Technically, we said you couldn’t use outside help…”
“Mr Snuffles is a puffskein!”
Under his breath, Ominis murmured to Sebastian, “Our friends are mad.”
“Tell me about it,” Sebastian sighed. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of Ominis’ head before clearing his throat and raising his voice.
“Hey!”
The others fell silent and turned to him. Sebastian said:
“If you really want a winner, then let’s put it like this: the only reason we got together in the first place was because Anne refused to share a bed with me, which she’s done every other summer Ominis has been in Feldcroft. He’s always slept in her bed instead. So this time Ominis and I had to share, which, well… led to things.” He added a pointed little blink. Ominis’ cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.
Very slowly, as though drawn by the same invisible string, everyone turned to stare at Anne.
She blinked.
“…Huh,” she said, clearly not expecting to find herself at the heart of the narrative.
“So… does that mean… Anne wins?” Garreth asked, bewildered.
Ominis tilted his head. “That’s what it sounds like.”
Anne still looked a bit startled, but then she shrugged. “I won’t argue. I could use some consolation money considering these two—” she jabbed a finger at her brother and Ominis “—have given me many sleepless nights in Feldcroft.” She glared at Sebastian. “Seriously. Silencing Charms exist. Use them.”
Sebastian just shrugged and grinned unapologetically. “Not as fun if you can’t hear anything.”
“I’m buying my own house to spend the summer in, with the money I get,” Anne muttered.
Somewhat resigned, the others dug out their coin purses and grudgingly handed over their wagers. Anne scooped the coins up cheerfully. “Imagine that: something good actually came out of you traumatizing me all summer.”
“You bet on our relationship and tried to herd us together like a pair of puffskeins in a breeding pen,” Sebastian pointed out. “If anyone should feel offended, it’s me and Ominis.”
He… wasn’t wrong.
An awkward pause followed, the kind that settled once the adrenaline faded and no one was quite sure what to do next.
“Well then,” Garreth said eventually, scratching the back of his neck. “What should we bet on now?”
Ominis said, very casually, “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m only observing that you have a puffskein, and Amit knows the password to the Ravenclaw Tower… where Hobhouse sleeps.”
Garreth and Imelda slowly turned to stare at each other.
And then they both grinned.