"𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐞."
- 'I think he knows' by Taylor Swift

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HEMERA

The seconds of peace I promised myself turned into a thirty-three-minute nap, out of which I am now pulled by the sound of the compartment door opening. Slowly squinting my eyes and allowing them to adjust to the brightness of the still-moving train, I shake my head softly and lift it from Draco's shoulder. Looking up at him through the eyelashes of my still-heavy lids, I meet his blue gaze almost instantly.

"I want seven Toffees and a Milk Chocolate Honeycomb, please," Pansy says to the middle-aged lady standing outside of the compartment, her hands holding onto the treat-loaded trolley. The smile on her pale face is everlasting as she nods her head in confirmation and hands Pansy her sweets.

Theo eyes the packages flooding her lap and lifts a brow. His gaze flickers between Pansy's face and the playfully colorful wrappers, as though he's trying to solve an equation with no result. "There's no fucking way that stomach of yours can fit all these things."

"Try me." Is all she says, before unwrapping one of her Toffees and taking a slow bite. Seemingly unable to suppress her satisfaction, she hums dreamily, her dark eyelashes fluttering as her eyes fall shut.

"Anything else from the trolley, dears?"

I cast a quick glance around to see if anyone is interested in buying something. I'm ready to shake my head and kindly dismiss her when Draco shifts beside me. "I want hot chocolate." His tone is clipped, almost sharp yet I refrain from acknowledging it as rude.

"Of course." The woman pours the brown beverage from the jug into a white paper cup, hot steam curling in the air as she hands it to Draco.

My best friend turns to me, "Want one?"

The shake of my head is short-lived. "No, I'm good," I mutter, yet as the lady carefully closes the door and rolls the trolley away, the cocoa-like smell of Draco's drink sparks a flame of regret deep inside.

I try not to show how much I want to break this door and chase after the woman as the next minute rolls by— solemnly in the hopes of getting a cup for myself. Watching the torturously slow sips he takes makes it harder for me to pull my focus away.

His eyes meet mine, and I don't even notice that his head has turned to face me until he blinks, a half-smile tipping the corners of his mouth. Perhaps, I was too busy eyeing the hot chocolate, which is definitely not a crime and something I won't blame myself for. And given how that smug look on his face keeps taking form, I can only guess he considers himself lucky for still holding onto it. Once my I-need-sugar-in-my-system instinct kicks in, he and his ridiculously tempting beverage won't stand a chance against my urge to chug it all down in one throat-slitting, lung-emptying, stomach-filling gulp.

I don't even know why I said no in the first place.

I can already feel the sweet taste of it coating my tongue, satisfying those inner cravings that have nothing to do with me being hungry.

"I can see you eyeing my cup." Draco teases, taking a long sip and blowing out a sigh of pure fulfillment after swallowing. My hand itches to collide with his cheek in the hopes of slapping that look off his face, but I start fumbling with the hem of my skirt to stop myself from acting this scenario out. "I thought you didn't want one for yourself, though I know you wish you could taste it right now. Just to put an end to your misery, it's exceedingly sweet."

He knows what his choice of words does to me and revels in his power, cherishing it. At times like this, I'm convinced my best friend is a monster, acting like he wants nothing but to end up with a black eye and an empty hand. Given how I managed to be the last one standing in our most recent fight, despite the fact that I had to get some pillows involved, I'd like to warn him that his provocative tendencies will only earn him a punch square in the face.

Not knowing how I ended up in a state of utter desperation that soon, I internally curse myself for running out of patience and control, yet the words tumbling past my lips are the ones that echo around. "Can I have a sip?" When he lifts his brows in a way that screams how much he doubts my intentions, I find myself clarifying "Just one, I promise." I hold my pointer finger up for emphasis.

Draco's eyes roll, but the smile on his lips is full of confirmation and acceptance of his fate— or at least my hopeful self chooses to translate the gesture into something seemingly beneficial. "Fine, but just one sip. You're not getting away with it this time."

On his face, in the way he looks at me, I can see that all the drinks I've stolen from him over the years have left a mark. Maybe the fact that he never really mastered the courage to get them back still haunts him at night. And he has come to fear this 'one sip' excuse. I don't blame him, especially since the victim of my robbery once happened to be his beloved peppermint bark milkshake.

I know he still mourns it.

"I made a promise," I tell him, as sincerely as possible, nearly placing my hand over my heart to make my tells more believable. Draco reluctantly hands me the cup and as I curl both my fingers around it, feeling like I'm holding the most precious thing in the world, its warmth seeps into my palms.

I internally give a congratulating pat on my shoulder at the accomplishment.

The world ceases to exist and time freezes to a pause when I bring my lips to the rim and let the sugar-bearing beverage grace my mouth with a sense of long-craved relief. I decide to let Draco think he's getting it back for a few more minutes, only to spare myself from his complaining bleats. Deep down, I'm determined to not let go of it without a fight dramatic enough to result in one of us being tossed out of the train window.

Veni, vidi, vici.

Draco watches me carefully, counting and judging my every sip- he doesn't bother to hide how pissed he already is over the fact that I've taken more than one. The distant haze swirling in his eyes has me on the verge of breaking into a fit of laughter, yet, although barely, I hold it back. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that his mind is on the hunt for easy hexes to cast on me. His spoilt side will forever want a guaranteed victory, but as I let my gaze fall on him, his expression eases into neutrality. Acceptance even.

When I bring the rim of the cup to my lips for the fourth time, his hand reaches out to stop me, aiming to grab the drink and force it out of my grip. "May I remind you that it's my hot chocolate that you're drinking? I want it back."

I slap his hand away before his fingers even have the chance to brush over the paper cup. "Was yours. You know you ain't getting it back."

I hardly understand how he still finds it in himself to look deceived, his face dropping in the name of uncalled, unexpected betrayal. "I trusted you." He nearly spits the words out, a dramatically unnecessary amount of faux pain woven in the way the syllables leave his mouth.

"Doesn't mean you should have." A one-shouldered shrug accompanies my tone. A tone that shamelessly has the audacity to blame him for tugging on the string of our friendship on his end. Calling out for that fragile layer of trust he still has on this type of occasion. "It's hot freaking chocolate. I can't even trust myself with it."

His scoff is almost playful. He opens his palm for me, despite knowing that his greatest pleads happen to be the ace up his sleeve I'm already armed against. "Come on, give it back."

"For someone who only drinks black coffee like a fucking grumpy old man awaiting death in a rocking chair, with around twelve cats curling their tails around his legs, you do sound pretty hopeful, Malfoy." Theodore speaks around one of Pansy's Toffees. This might be the first time she's ever shared anything edible. And I should probably consider it the last, given how she's perfectly capable of pushing her thumbs into your eyes until they sink to the back of your head if you touch something of hers. Something she plans to eat.

The last time Theodore tried to steal a sugar-coated strawberry from her plate thinking that she wouldn't notice, he ended up missing a chunk of hair at the crown of his head. He had to walk around with a beanie for at least a month until the victimized strand grew back out, though not quite matching the length of the rest of his loose curls. I can still spot that one specific tuft, but knowing how he'll go back to keeping his hood on all day long, I refrain from making any teasing remarks about it.

The endless rows of thick-branched pine trees and bushes give their place to a spacious clearing when the train crosses the bridge, letting only the unlimited expansion of the sky accompany us. Its color is already darker than when we started, though only slightly. The sun still shines brightly ahead, occasionally hiding behind jagged mountaintops, their shadows widespread and promising nightfall.

As my gaze wanders to faraway lands through the window's transparency, my body relaxes into a state of absentminded tranquility, giving Draco the perfect opportunity to snatch his beloved cup from my hand.

I hastily turn to face him, my mouth gaping at the thick layer of pride slipping over his face like a mask of unyielding iron. He snorts in his attempt to suppress his laughter, completely unbothered by the fact that my glare could pierce through skin and bone if properly armed.

Eyes narrowed into hateful slits, I hiss, "screw you."

Draco simply shrugs off the insult as though it just flies past him. His laughter seems everlasting, although I doubt it'd survive the outburst of my fury. "That." He points to the invisibility of my naiveness like it's a thread hanging between us. "Is what you get when you act like the little thief you are."

With a vast sense of determination washing over me like a tide, I stand up confidently, brushing my hands over my skirt to smooth out the material. "I'm going to get my own then." It's more like an announcement no one asked for than anything else. I roll my shoulders back and lift my chin, contouring my face into one of faux conviction.

"I love how confident you seem in the novelty of your idea." Blaise chuckles, only bringing more reasons to the table of 'why it's okay for Draco to laugh at me.'

I roll my eyes and dismiss the chuckles accompanying my exit from the compartment.

Surprisingly, it doesn't take me long to get to the front of the train. I doubt more than three minutes pass before I get to hold my own cup of this liquified miracle.

Tiny bubbles swirl on the surface, provocative until they pop with a playful blow. I watch them shift and swim around, their sheer existence capturing my attention. Trapped in another dimension, my reflexes refuse to come to my rescue when I run into someone and my beverage spills all over their shirt. If I were to count the steps I got to take with my treasured cup in my hands, I'd realize they're probably less than ten.

I stumble back at the harsh impact and gasp in horror as the realization settles in. My eyes impulsively widen, so much that I'd consider calling my expression laughable- though with the embarrassment coiling in my stomach faster than the blood rushing to my face, chuckling is the last thing on my mind.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." I hurriedly reach out and let my free hand hover over the dark brown stain on the stranger's shirt as if it'd magically disappear. At times like this, I doubt even praying to the universe and the Fates and the Gods could do much.

Not that they'd ever given any signs of being on my side. Hate might be too strong of a word, but aversion comes close enough to accurately describe the shared opinion all three of them have of me.

"I've always needed a reason to permanently banish this shirt from my closet." His voice rings so many bells that the deafening sound of their symphony has me flinching out of the state of utter panic.

And yet, my eyes nearly spill out of their sockets. The little voice in my head echoes three words on repeat, as if any other combination of syllables is long forgotten.

Lucas freaking Koch.

The already frantic beat of my heart turns into a staccato, pumping more blood than my veins could ever deliver. I don't know if the wave of nerves that keeps washing over me is to blame for my lack of something clever to say, or if the speed of my pulse has robbed my mind of the ability to form sentences- but my pride refuses to let me be held accountable for the repeated apology that leaves my mouth.

"I'm so sorry."

I'm anything but prepared for when Lucas's hands grab my wrists, pulling my hands away from his chest. The feel of his skin alone takes me back to three years ago when I'd found myself in the exact same situation; Lucas holding my wrist and guiding me through the required flicks of a spell I'd deemed complicated.

This memory lurks in the depths of my embarrassment- the stupid crush I developed that year has yet to evaporate, still following me to this day and feeding off of my sanity. It's not often that the mere thought of him doesn't occupy the majority of my mind's capacity.

Most of the time, I find myself helpless against the fragments of imagination revolving around him, defenseless when it comes to the tape of movies he stars in. Movies no one but me has seen, scenarios Draco would call me pathetic for coming up with and recreating over and over again in my head- mostly when I was supposed to be asleep.

Despite my best friend's judgment of my brain's normalcy, I refuse to let go of the memories my thirteen-year-old self had decided to believe were signs that Lucas was interested in me- beyond just asking for my Herbology notes and answers.

I remember when my quill ran out of ink during a transfiguration test and I asked him to give me one of his, which he did. He also took the blame when McGonagall nearly sued me out of the class because she thought that I was cheating. I recall him pulling feathers out of my hair after a spell blew up in my face, his fingers moving tenderly through my strands. Or that one day when he called me and I quote 'pretty dope' as I shared some of my plant knowledge with him. I now know it wasn't a stunt someone who is used to getting guys' attention would pull, but every time I feel like face-slamming a concrete block, I remind myself that I was thirteen.

But despite my inexperience at the time, I still dedicated half of my potion's notebook to scribbling down those little moments between him and me. A diary felt way riskier to own, for Blaise, Theo, and mostly Draco would often come to my dorm to steal anything edible that resembled an unhealthy snack.

The daily reports about Lucas weren't overly detailed, but precise enough to easily awaken the exact feelings those references had elicited the day they occurred. I even used the nickname Pansy and I had come up with for him- cauliflower.

I might physically cringe at the memory of actually writing that thing down, but back then, I was quite proud of how original it was compared to something like 'pineapple' or 'banana'. I'd heard them being whispered around amongst other equally smitten girls one too many times.

I shake my head slightly and check myself back into the present.

Lucas doesn't let go of my hands, his fingers looping loosely around my wrists. The gentleness of his hold makes me look up at him, my eyes leaving the sinful stain on his shirt and climbing up to his handsome face. Being this close to him makes me want to close my eyes, inhale deeply, and catalog everything about this moment. From the way he smells, to the still-fresh feel of his shirt under my palms.

The pair of eyes already watching me nearly knock the breath out of my lungs, as if the sight alone is capable of physically affecting me. His flush lips behold a reassuring smile that puts some of the nerves nibbling at my insides, to rest.

I'm not sure my heart can survive the way his thumb strokes my skin without wanting to break free from the cage my chest has suddenly become. Tight and narrow, it hardly keeps the vital organ locked. It feels as though my kneecaps evaporate, turn into thin air, when he says,

"It's alright, Hemera."

He remembers my name?

"Of course I do. You are a pretty memorable transfiguration partner."

Warmth floods my chest, though I'm not sure his words serve the purpose of a compliment. Given how I've caused enough trouble in Professor McGonagall's class for her grudges against me to last for not just one, but three lifetimes of Dumbledor's lifespan, I don't think anyone could compliment my transfiguration skills.

For instance, the last time I tried to turn a wine glass into a pigeon, I messed up the spell and transformed it into a swarm of locusts that had the majority of the students screaming and running around to cover themselves with anything they could find. Not something I'd want to go through again, that's for sure.

"Memorable as in 'dangerous for anyone in attendance?'"

His soft curls bounce over his brows as he moves his head in a nod, lips pulling back over his teeth even further as his smile widens. He still hasn't let go of my hands, and the heat my skin has come to behold makes me wonder if his fingers will leave a mark. "Something like that."

I glance out of the window for a distraction, cursing myself for my incapability to hold his gaze for more than ten seconds. "We're done crossing the bridge; that means we'll be at Hogwarts soon-"

A first-year pushing through the hallway makes me lose my balance. My legs part in search of some stability as my hand lets go of the cup entirely, the brown liquid spilling all over Lucas and my own school uniform. I hurry to push my lip in between my teeth, making sure to bite on it hard enough for the pain to wash away the chain of curses piling up on my tongue as the kid strolls away completely intact. Do their mushed brains ever tell them to slow the hell down?

Lucas glances down at my befallen cup, our stained clothes, and then back up at me. "Please don't start apologizing for this one."

"Although it's really tempting, I'd do it after releasing a strong-worded speech on that kid."

"Here." He pulls his hand out from the pocket of his robes, pointing it at me. "Stay still."

"What are you-"

"Scourgify"

My jaw hangs open as the stains start to fade away from my clothes, the spell working quickly and efficiently. Lucas then casts the same one on himself and picks up my cup that's still lying on the floor. I smooth down my robes with my hands, merely because my limbs suddenly feel entirely useless. "We're not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts grounds."

He pushes his sleeve up and flashily proceeds to glance at his watch. "Based on some quick and rarely mistaken calculations, we'll be there in less than three minutes and twenty-six seconds. I'm sure Dumbledore will find it in himself to forgive me."

"It's still three minutes."

He flashes me one of his grins that I've only seen from across the Great Hall, one that makes him look like his intelligence would never let him do something without knowing where it'd lead. "Which is not enough time for me to get expelled, but thankfully enough for me to buy you another drink."

My eyes bulge as if I was just told a State Secret and it looks like there's nothing stopping them from slipping out of their sockets if they suddenly wish for it. "No, no- I can't possibly accept that when I almost ruined your shi—."

Lucas smoothly lifts a brow, silently questioning my tells and daring me to come up with answers as to why I'm holding back. "You didn't. Scourgify, remember?"

"Well, my friends are probably waiting for me back in the compartment."

"It won't take long."

"You really won't take no for an answer, will you?" My legs are wobbly- and completely untrustworthy. If my bones don't step up and play the part of keeping me from tumbling down to the floor like the walls of an ancient building collapsing during an earthquake, I'll have to consider going after a walking stick.

A proud shake of his head at my observation. "No. So let's get going before your friends come after us."

The last thing I would've ever expected from a sheer train ride, is to actually walk on Lucas Koch's side and take the cup of hot chocolate he hands me. Needless to say, I don't know if my heart has finally found a way to flee my chest entirely, or if its loud beating has permanently ceased once and for all.

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i think that we deserve to have our delusional sides represented in books hehehe

these scenes originally belonged to the previous chapter but since the word count had spiralled out of control, I decided to break the train ride into two parts.

i hope it was easier to read that way.

thank you for reading <3

-M.L.