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kaaytea · 3 years

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Potions and Prophecies

Miyuki Kazuya x reader

Synopsis: Despite being a wizard, there is one magical substance Miyuki will never believe in—Amortentia. Now the quidditch-obsessed boy is caught in a predicament, one that has to do with the exact substance he turns his nose at.

Word count: 7k

Warnings: strong language, slight Kurasawa if you squint, injury, Hogwarts au

A/n: Funny how I say I want to take a break from Miyuki and still find myself posting content for him...anyways, happy first day of my small Halloween celebration!! I loved writing this, it's a bit different bc I've never written in 3rd pov for a insert fic, but ig I'll see what you guys think :)

*DISCLAIMER* I IN NO WAY AGREE OR SUPPORT R*WLING'S BELIEFS. TRANS WOMEN ARE WOMEN! TRANS MEN ARE MEN! I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE YOU TO READ UP ON TRANS RIGHTS, AS WELL AS ALL OF THE OTHER PROBLEMATIC THEMES SHE IMPLEMENTED IN HER BOOKS (XENOPHOBIA, ANTI-SEMITISM, ECT). THIS ONESHOT WAS PURELY MADE FOR FUN AND NOT INTENDED TO PROMOTE THE AUTHOR OF THE ORIGINAL SERIES!!

"Right then," professor Slughorn announced, grabbing the mismatched student's attention as they slowly settled at their tables, all blinking curiously at the potions professor. "Now that everyone has arrived, I would like us to dive straight into today's lesson. No need to get your cauldrons out, today is purely for observational purposes."

Miyuki watched Slughorn blabber on about the selection of potions on the table at the front of the classroom; occasionally he would scribble down a note or two but he mainly sat with his head against his hand and a bored expression.

Don't get him wrong, Miyuki loved potions class—it was his favorite out of the classes he was taking this year—but his mind had been elsewhere the past few days and a lecture about Felix Felicis or Wolfsbane wasn't exactly helping.

Miyuki's week so far had been entirely dedicated to developing an anti-Gryffindor strategy for the Slytherin quidditch team; more specifically, an anti-Narumiya Mei strategy. The start of Hogwarts' quidditch season had been an utter disaster for Slytherin by getting absolutely slaughtered by the Gryffindors. Mei had promised he and his team wouldn't be holding back this year and that first game proved just how serious he was about winning the cup; the Gryffindors played far more violent than usual, truly leaning into their brash, implosive house characteristics—hell, even Kuramochi had almost taken Miyuki's head off with a bludger a few times during the match.

Miyuki looked at the green-haired Gryffindor sitting beside him. Mochi looked as equally bored as Miyuki and had opted to doodling on the edge of his scroll. Centuries long house rivalries aside, Miyuki and Kuramochi had formed the strongest—but no less weird—friendship ever.

"Miyuki."

Slughorn's voice made him jump in his seat slightly, he quickly looked over to the stout professor in hopes of looking somewhat engaged compared to his previous daydreaming.

"Perhaps you could tell us what the last potion is?"

Miyuki strained his neck slightly to get a look of the cauldron's contents from his seat. The pearlescent sheen and swirling steam rising from the pot gave him the answer instantly.

"Amortentia," he said, "It's branded as a love potion."

"Correct!" Slughorn beamed, all the more satisfied with a favorite student answering right. He shuffled over to the potion and moved it to the middle of his table. "Amortentia doesn't create actual love mind you. Instead, it makes a powerful—almost dangerous—infatuation." Slughorn stepped away and looked over the class. A select few girls blinked starry-eyed at the potion, forbidden hope swimming in their consciousness as they stalked the liquid.

"Amortentia's scent is different for everyone as it's based on what you find attractive," the professor stated, "That is why I would like you all to come up by table and record what exactly the potion smells like to you."

Excited whispers rippled through the class like a stone dropped in water; small squeals and happy sighs escaped the mouths of the hopeless romantics speckled throughout the classroom.

"You will then be writing an essay, two scrolls long, about Amortentia on my desk by Friday morning." The happy cheers crumbled at the topic of actual work. Short grumbles and complaints rang through the group of sixth years.

"First group, make your way up please!"

The two students—a pair of Slytherins—hurried up towards the front of the classroom, excitedly whispering to one another. Miyuki's eyes followed their movements like a lazy cat before heaving a sigh.

"What's up with you?" Kuramochi mumbled, side-eyeing the Slytherin before turning back to the drawing of a dragon he was enchanting to flap its wings.

"I just think it's pointless to study Amortentia," Miyuki said, eyes trailing after the little ink dragon flapping around on Kuramochi's piece of parchment. "It's not like it's actually accurate."

Kuramochi snorted at Miyuki's response. At first, the boy thought Miyuki was joking, but when he turned to look at his face he was flooded with disbelief.

"You're serious?!"

Miyuki nodded.

"Miyuki you fly on a broom for sport but don't believe a potion does what it's intended to do?!" Kuramochi kept his voice to a whisper, his eyes flicked over to where Slughorn was happily chatting with a Gryffindor, almost as though he were afraid to find out what the potions master would do if he discovered his favorite student doubted a potion.

"Maybe it's the muggle ideology in me, but no I don't."

"Muggle ideology?" Mochi questioned, "Are you forgetting your dad is literally a wizard?"

Miyuki just rolled his eyes and leaned even more onto his hand. "Really? I never would have guessed!" Fake amusement dripped from the boy's voice causing Kuramochi to whack his arm with the closest book he could reach, Miyuki just laughed at the Gryffindor's irritation. "I did spend time with my mom before she died you know," he said when Kuramochi's attacks died down, "Coming from a muggle, her outlook on magic stuck with me."

Kuramochi hummed in response. Miyuki's mother was a touchy topic so he took it as a sign to steer clear of that corner of the conversation.

"I still don't get what exactly you don't believe about Amortentia though. How couldn't it be accurate?"

"You know—it's like a mood ring or horoscopes," Miyuki sighed, "They just take the surface level characteristics of you and market it as some deep astounding discovery."

"A mood what?" Kuramochi looked utterly lost, staring back at his friend in confusion due to the unfamiliar words.

"Right, forgot you’re not familiar with muggle stuff. Uh...ok it's the same concept as divination. Tea leaves, studying dreams—that sort of thing."

Kuramochi's nose scrunched up in distaste at the mention of the subject, "Ok yeah I get it now—let’s maybe not mention divination for the rest of the day because Sawamura already babbles about it enough."

Both boys shuttered at the mention of Sawamura Eijun's obsession with divination. He was a lovely Hufflepuff to be around, but he had no loss for words when trying to convince someone that he could tell your future with a glass ball.

"Don't get me started, yesterday he told me I would meet the love of my life through a book after looking at the coffee grounds in my mug."

Miyuki's deadpan look only made Kuramochi laugh even harder; just as Miyuki does, Kuramochi found his friend’s misfortunes a prime source of entertainment.

"Miyuki. Kuramochi."

The boys looked up to where professor Slughorn was waving them over for their turn with the Amortentia. Miyuki slid off his stool and shuffled behind Kuramochi up towards the front of the class; he really didn't want to smell some potion he already knew the result of, but Slughorn praised the ground he walked on, so he decided it would be best to humor him.

"Now then, don't go putting your whole face into the cauldron, it can cause for a terrible migraine," Slughorn laughed in little wheezes. Miyuki and Kuramochi just awkwardly chuckled along, sharing a look of concern with one another.

Kuramochi went first, breathing in the scent of the potion before scribbling down what Miyuki thought said spearmint—it was hard to tell with his handwriting. Just as Kuramochi went to step away he froze, his nose scrunched up from whatever scent had met him and scratched down one last thing: Earl grey tea.

Like a machine, as Mochi headed back towards their shared table, Miyuki took his place. He stared down at the pearly potion, scowling on the inside but emotionless on the outside as he watched the steam twist and swirl up towards him. His first breath was met with the scents he expected: the cooking mirin his mother used, the leather of his keeper’s gloves, broom polish, and rosemary.

Just as he had expected. Scents that briefly describe him and his interests, nothing revolutionary. It was impossible for a meer potion to dive deeper into a person's consciousness and gather their true attractions.

Similar to Kuramochi, just as Miyuki finished jotting down the scents, a new one emerged—one he couldn't instantly place. It was softer than the harsher things he had written down on his parchment; welcoming and warm like a hug, like the very embodiment of sunshine had flooded through his body. After a few more seconds he was able to distinguish what the scent actually was—marigolds.

Confused and slightly concerned, he messily scribbled the flower down and hurried back to his seat. On his way back he briefly made eye contact with Narumiya Mei, who cheekily stuck his tongue out at him as he passed only to get a thwack to the back of his head by his friend, and table mate, (y/n). Miyuki ignored Mei's childish instigating and sat heavily down on the stool next to Kuramochi.

For the rest of the class period, Slughorn gave a short lecture about Amortentia, giving the students a minimal amount of information so that they had a general understanding of the concoction, but not enough as to write their essay for them. Miyuki couldn't focus on the words and information spilling from the professor's mouth. His thoughts—once ruled by quidditch strategies—were now being overloaded and filled with the simple name of a flower.

Where did this damned plant come from? What part of his subconscious involved the small orange flower?

The only time he had encountered marigolds was in the garden of the old, crotchety woman who lived in the house besides his. Even then, his encounters with the neighbor had been less than pleasant which definitely couldn't warrant an attraction to the flowers that speckled her flower beds.

The emergence of the marigold scent just further proved to Miyuki that Amortentia was exactly what he thought it was—a hoax for people betting their lives on the prospect of love.

Potions was the last class of the day for sixth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins; the loud clanging of the Hogwarts bell signaled the few hours of freedom the students were granted at the end of the school days. For Miyuki, the bell signified his mad dashes from potions to the Slytherin common room where he would throw off his school robes and replace them with his emerald green quidditch jumper. From the common room tucked away in the dungeons, he would then race up to the Great Hall, wolf down whatever food was being served for the night, and get down to the quidditch pitch in time for evening practice.

As Miyuki burst into the Great Hall—quidditch bag slung over his shoulder and shoelaces untied—he bumped straight into someone, causing the person to stumble and fall flat on their butt.

"Ah sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," he apologized to the person—who he now saw was (y/n). Miyuki reached out his hand and they graciously accepted his help up.

"It's alright, Miyuki," they said with a shy smile. Their eyes flicked to the bag with his quidditch gear before meeting his bespectacled gaze again. "Good luck with practice tonight, I can't wait to see what your team pulls at the next Gryffindor-Slytherin match!" And with that (y/n) sent him one last smile and a small wave before hurrying over to where Mei was sitting.

As Miyuki stood there watching (y/n) run off he swore he could smell the marigolds again—it was like the god damn potion was following him.

Miyuki walked over to the Slytherin table and slumped down in the spot across from the Slytherin team beaters—the Kominato brothers. Miyuki slowly piled food onto his plate now that he finally had a short moment to relax, but he couldn't help his eyes drifting over to where (y/n) was laughing at something Mei had said.

"A little distracted tonight, are we?" Ryousuke's smooth voice rang out in a teasing way, a cheshire smirk spread across his lips.

"I haven't exactly had time to think about anything but quidditch," Miyuki said, sticking his fork into some food on his plate and taking a bite, "I need to put together a strategy we can use against Gryffindor by our next game."

Ryousuke just hummed from where he was languidly leaning his head on his palm, "I wasn't exactly referring to quidditch."

"What were yo—"

"I'm heading down to the pitch," Ryou cut in, standing up from the bench and grabbing his bag from the floor. "See you two at practice."

Miyuki shook his head out of confusion and bafflement as the older boy walked from the hall.

Perhaps putting off an essay that was two scrolls long wasn't the smartest move on Miyuki's part. In his defense, Slytherin and Gryffindor were granted extra practice hours in preparation for their game Saturday which left little time for schoolwork. His only problem was it was now Thursday and the essay was due tomorrow morning.

The Keeper reluctantly made his way to the library during his free period. He was lucky the vast room was fairly empty at this time of day, the only students there being a few seventh and sixth years. The emptiness made the place a little less stuffy than it usually felt. After setting his things down at a table, Miyuki started weaving through the towering shelves stuffed full of books. He skimmed his fingers over the hundreds of decaying potions books in the room, on a mission to find one fully about Amortentia. After about ten minutes of continuous searching, he spotted it—a worn mauve book with light pink detailing around the spine. If there was ever a book about Amortentia it had to be that one. With his attention fully absorbed in grabbing the book, Miyuki failed to notice the other student reaching for it until their fingers bumped his as they both went to pull the object from the shelf.

Slightly startled, Miyuki looked to his right to find who he had just bumped hands with; his heart involuntarily fluttered at the sight of the figure beside him.

"We seem to just keep finding one another, huh?" (Y/n) said, their voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," he breathed out. Miyuki's hand retracted from the potion book, his eyes never leaving the glittering ones before him. "You can uh— take the book."

(Y/n)'s index finger hooked the book's spine, pulling it off the shelf and into their awaiting hand. After obtaining the mauve book they turned back to Miyuki with a shy expression, "How about we share it?" They said in a melodic tone, "I assume you need it for Slughorn's essay too, right?"

Before Miyuki could even respond (y/n) was already moving towards the table he had placed his things at, leaving him to stand dumbfounded in the middle of the grandiose bookcases. His only response was a soft 'sure' that no one but him heard.

As Miyuki sat down at the cozy table—Amortentia book splayed open and pages of notes scattered about—he struggled to calm the irregular beating of his heart, his hand shook nervously each time he dipped his quill into the inkpot on the table; his writing came out shaky and illegible. He couldn't tell why his body was acting this way, but then it hit him—or more accurately, a scent did.

Marigolds.

The marigolds scent was back and it was strong. Almost as though the source was sitting right infro. . .

Miyuki sat staring down in shock at where his hand had ceased writing as his thought trailed off. The Slytherin's eyes slowly glided over to where (y/n) was blissfully flipping through the book on Amortentia.

They were the source of the marigolds.

He didn't know what to do, it was as though thousands of bells and sirens were going off in his brain, all of them ringing at different pitches to form a garbled mess. Time had frozen as every instance he had ever interacted with them flooded to the forefront of his mind. Every laugh, smile, greeting, or brush of their hands started to weigh on him; seemingly insignificant actions that weren’t looking very insignificant anymore.

Through the keeper’s mild crisis, a certain Hufflepuff's words spoke from the back of his mind.

“You're going to meet your soulmate through a book, Miyuki Kazuya!”

It couldn't be. There was no bloody way that Eijun and his silly tea leaves had been right—that that stupid potion had been right. Miyuki took one last glance at the person beside him and forced himself to work on his essay.

Yet for some reason, there was a little, unnoticed piece of Miyuki's heart hoping that what he had uncovered would turn out to be true.

The Great Hall on quidditch days was always chaotic. The teams, clad in their house-colored quidditch jumpers, scurried around trying to get organized and shake off their nerves —some shoveling down breakfast while others looked as though they'd be sick at even the thought of food. The team captains always scanned the hall to double, sometimes triple, check to make sure their entire team was present.

For students not on the quidditch team, mornings before a game were less stress-inducing, but instead filled with house pride and hearty cheers. Bets and wishes of luck were thrown between the two teams as their housemates and friends anxiously waited to start heading down towards the stands.

Miyuki hadn't taken a single bite from his breakfast that morning, instead opting for a mug of black coffee and a mind filled with romantic turmoil. He had spent the past two days thinking about his sudden realization in the library; being pulled between the two blatant, but possibly coincidental, facts and his strong disbelief of any and all things divination and fortune-telling.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cup of hot tea being innocently pushed in front of him; the strong earl grey aroma made his nose involuntarily scrunch up in distaste.

"I'm not drinking that," he said flatly, not even looking up from where he was pushing around his, now soggy, bowl of cereal.

"C'mon Kuramochi let me tell his!" Sawamura whined.

Miyuki looked up at the Hufflepuff sitting across from him; the boy’s freckled face was pulled down into a pitiful attempt at guilting his victim into complying with his wishes.

"No."

"You're no fun," Sawamura groaned.

Not one to be discouraged easily, Sawamura reached over the table and snatched Miyuki's empty coffee mug, despite the latter’s protests. With a triumphant look the boy whipped out a small book from his bag—Dahnus Decan's Pocket guide to Divination and Dreams read in bold iridescent writing across the cover.

Miyuki let out a sigh as he watched Sawamura flip frantically through his book—mumbling something about stars and injuries as he went.

"Isn't that a bit sacrilegious?" Miyuki said, referring to the two scarves hanging from the boy’s neck—one Slytherin and one Gryffindor.

Sawamura looked up, blinking mindlessly at the older boy across from him, "What's wrong with me wanting to support my friends?"

"Nothing, Nothing," Miyuki dismissed with a wave of his hand, "It's just a bit ironic of you to wear the scarves of the two houses with the worst house rivalry—how did you even get those anyway? You're a Hufflepuff."

Sawamura put his book down and picked up the end of the Slytherin scarf with a large smile, "This one I stole from Furuya when he was napping, and this one—" he said gently grabbing the end of the Gryffindor scarf, "Kuramochi gave me!"

Miyuki hummed in understanding as Sawamura instantly went back to flipping through his book. The Slytherin's gaze drifted over to where Kuramochi was sitting at the Gryffindor table, his green hair contrasting harshly with his maroon quidditch jumper. The two of them made eye contact to which Miyuki sent him a shitty grin and an exaggerated waggle of his fingers in greeting. In return, Kuramochi flipped him off followed by a sweet smile.

"Ok, I've got it!" Sawamura yelled, breaking the small moment Miyuki and Kuramochi were sharing from across the hall.

"Distractions will be your downfall!"

Miyuki frowned, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," Sawamura shrugged, snapping his book close and placing the coffee mug back in front of the Keeper, "Coffee isn't as accurate and is way harder to read compared to tea leaves."

"Of course how could I forget," the Slytherin muttered, leaning against his hand.

Sawamura wasn't fazed by Miyuki's less than enthusiastic response and instead scrambled to gather his things and stood from the bench.

"Haruichi and Furuya are here!" He cheered before turning back to look at Miyuki, "Good luck today, I'll be rooting for you guys!"

With a final wave, Miyuki Watched the bubbly Hufflepuff dash over to his friends; the boy’s loud laughs easily being heard over the consistent drone in the Great Hall.

Now alone, Miyuki sat like a pessimistic blob in the sea of green and red; happy calls to friends and competitive taunts being passed around like a plate of fresh cookies, contrasted harshly with his lone self.

Not wanting to blemish the rest of the school’s excitement, the Slytherin keeper stood from his uneaten breakfast, left the Great Hall, and headed straight for the quidditch pitch.

He immediately noticed the frigid bite in the air the second he stepped foot outside and started his long trek across the school grounds. Unlike the subtle transition of months, the weather always changed rapidly—one day you could be basking in the gentle warmth of late summer and the next you were bundling up in thick layers.

In the safety of the Slytherin locker room, Miyuki slipped on his quidditch robes and all his keeper's padding; experimentally flexing his fingers in the snug, leather gloves to help the material settle comfortably against his skin.

In a swift motion, Miyuki turned on his heel and made a beeline for the doorway to retrieve his broom from the broom shed—perhaps a few laps around the stadium would help clear his mind.

Unfortunately for him, his plans came crashing to a halt as a person rammed straight into his chest as he walked through the changing room entrance. The force was strong enough for him to trip over his feet and fall backward, the unnamed student grabbed onto his arm in a wasted attempt at preventing him from falling, only to get pulled down with him—their face smooshed firmly into his chest from his hand cradling them close to cushion their fall. When he looked down at the student he was embraced by the smell of marigolds and an anxious laugh.

"Maybe we should both wear bells to keep this from happening all the time," (y/n) said through laughs. Their face burned hotly at the sight of Miyuki staring down at them—glasses askew and hair ruffled. Instinctively their hand reached up to straighten his crooked specs; Miyuki stiffened slightly at their advances, his reaction causing them to realize what they were doing and clamber off of him.

"I'm really sorry about knocking you over," they said, extending their hand out to help him up, which he graciously accepted, "I was so focused on getting the Slytherin banners out I didn't even think to make sure no one was in here."

"It's alright," he responded, hand going up to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck, "I was a bit distracted too so. . ."

The pair stood looking at each other—marigolds and quidditch leather dancing through the air, trapping them under its spell. Unknowingly they shifted closer to one another, bodies millimeters away from touching. The pair were completely absorbed in the other, their eyes darting from feature to feature as though they were desperately trying to set the person in front of them to memory.

"I uh," (y/n) stuttered, breaking the almost chemical attraction pulling the both of them together, "Good luck today, Kazuya."

All Miyuki could muster was a soft thanks in return, his soul still star-struck from the feeling of their warmth.

He hurried out of the changing room and towards the broom shed, his green and silver robes billowing behind him.

What the hell was happening to him?

Miyuki proved to be even worse during the game—his fingers twitched from the loss of (y/n)’s, the insistent marigold smell stuck to his senses and melted his stomach into a pool of nerves. He couldn't get focused. Marigolds, Sawamura's silly little prophecy; it all kept pushing back into the front of his mind each time he tried to train his eyes on the quaffle.

A loud ding resounded around the pitch as Mei scored another point; the Gryffindor supporters cheering ballistically as their token player secured an even larger lead.

Miyuki frustratedly pushed his bangs away from his face, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. When he opened them they locked onto Mei. The blonde stared back at him, his brows furrowed as he sat suspended in the air analyzing Miyuki—an almost worried expression glinting in his eyes.

Miyuki sent him a cocky smirk, one that Mei briefly returned before it morphed back into the straight-faced look he bore seconds before.

Mei had just started to open his mouth to call something out to the keeper only to be cut off by a whistle from madam Hooch, signaling him to circle back towards his side of the pitch.

The quaffle was thrown in from Slytherin's side, the chasers weaving and fighting madly for a grip on the leather ball. Flashes of green and red were all Miyuki could make out from the speed the players were going at; the shiny surface of the quaffle was only visible for seconds at a time in the tangle of limbs.

Miyuki's concentration on the chasers completely distracted him from one of the more fatal elements of quidditch. Just as he watched a Gryffindor chaser hurl the quaffle towards Mei, a voice of warning called out to him—one that didn't reach him quick enough.

"MIYUKI!"

The Keeper turned just in time to see a bludger fling straight at him, colliding harshly with his left shoulder and knocking him off his broom, leaving him to plummet straight towards the sandpits beneath the hoops. He landed with a heavy thud; a splitting pain shot from his right elbow and ribs, choking out a breath as his lungs struggled to bring in air.

His eyes started to droop as his body sent itself into a state of shock, the sharp pain that had been so persistent before slowly faded as his mind shut down. The shouts from the stands and startled screams faded away as he lay there limply in the sand—the last thing he saw before passing out being blurs of green and red rushing towards him.

"Stop crowding him! He fell off a fucking broom!"

"He looks dead."

"Furuya don't say that!"

"Maybe if you all shut up you'd notice that he's waking up."

Miyuki groaned as his conscience started to reconnect with the world. His body felt like it had been hit by a train. Scratch that, it was like he was mauled by a bear then hit by a train. His muscles felt like they were being torn apart by a paper shredder as he shifted to sit up in his bed. He blinked his eyes a few times to get used to the bright light, on instinct he went to rub them only to find his left arm strapped securely in a cloth sling. When he looked up he was met with a blurry view of the entire Slytherin quidditch team crowding around his bed.

"We lost, didn't we?"

"You could have died and the first thing you're worried about is if your team won the match?!"

Miyuki looked over to the source of the voice, squinting to try and get his less than perfect eyes to focus. Surrounded by all the green, and wearing Slytherin quidditch robes, Kuramochi stood at the foot of the hospital bed—the only giveaway of his misplacement being the slivers of red peeking from beneath the robes.

"Why are you wearing Slytherin robes?" The Keeper questioned aloud, muttering a soft thank you to Haruichi who handed him his glasses. Now that Miyuki could see properly, it was almost comical to see such a proud Gryffindor in the silver and green.

"They were only letting the team visit you so I snuck in," Kuramochi said, crossing his arms.

A pleased smile spread across Miyuki's face, "Awwwww! Were you worried about me, Youichi?"

If Miyuki weren't currently injured Kuramochi probably would have put him in a headlock by now. Instead, the boy stood there stewing in his exasperation.

"You got hit by a bludger and fell out of the sky, of course I was fucking worried!"

Miyuki was slightly shocked at Kuramochi's response. Their friendship wasn't all that touchy-feely, so he must look pretty bad for the boy to get this antsy. Miyuki scanned over his team, all of them had strained looks as they shifted uncomfortably around his hospital bed.

"How bad is it?" His voice came out quieter than he expected, the underlying fear surfacing as the team's anxiety spread to him.

Ryousuke stepped forward slightly from the ring of green; the older boy didn't ever show much emotion but in this situation, it made Miyuki even more fearful as the short Kominato stared him down.

"You've got two cracked ribs and minimal bruising. You broke your elbow too but Pomfrey fixed that up in an instant," Ryousuke paused slightly, he wet his lips and sighed slightly before continuing. "The bludger dislocated your shoulder. Madam Pomfrey is keeping you here till Monday evening and you're off the starting line up until she says it's safe for you to play again."

No one moved or spoke as they watched Miyuki digest the information Ryousuke had just laid on him, his mouth hung open slightly in disbelief and all light evaporated from his eyes. He was completely and utterly crushed; Miyuki had nothing without quidditch.

"Miyuki," Ryousuke's voice came out gentler than anyone had ever heard before—a few team members even turned their heads in surprise. "Stop worrying. Yui will fill in for you as keeper—just focus on resting right now."

The older Kominato's words seemed to be the team's cue to file out of the hospital wing now that they were sure their teammate was ok and that the hard news had been delivered. Each member gave him well wishes as they walked from his bedside—Kuramochi sent him a sad smile and promised to come visit after dinner.

The hospital wing seemed so much larger when it wasn't filled with Miyuki's few friends; the distant clicking of shoes on the stone floors and laughs echoing throughout the halls only deepened the empty feeling seeping into his body.

He was alone, injured, and had just been torn away from his greatest love in the world—quidditch.

To top everything off, not having quidditch to keep him busy meant Miyuki would have a lot more free time. Free time that would most definitely be used stressing over his current prophecy-Amortentia dilemma.

From the corner of his eye, Miyuki spotted a head of blonde peeking from behind the tall wooden doors at the entrance of the hospital wing. After a quick scan of the room, the blonde Gryffindor swiftly walked across the wing and sat himself in the chair next to Miyuki's bed; with an elegant flick of his wand, one of the privacy curtains whipped around the bed to shield the pair from any nosy beings that happened to enter the hospital wing.

"Come to brag about your win?"

"Oh hardly," Mei sniggered, lounging back in the wooden chair. "This game was no victory to me—especially with the way you were playing today."

Miyuki frowned at the boy’s words; his shoulder lit with a dull pain.

"I-"

"Don't even try," Mei huffed, easily cutting Miyuki off. "We've been playing quidditch together since we could walk. I've seen you on your off days, Kazuya. Today was something completely different."

There wasn't a trace of malice in Mei's voice, but the hard glare the two students were holding gave the impression that they were seconds away from hexing each other.

Miyuki sat there staring back at his childhood friend, analyzing the blonde's blue eyes for the source of his sudden interest in Miyuki's lackluster performance earlier today.

"I'm cut from the team until my shoulder is healed."

Mei's steely gaze faltered slightly at his words—the Gryffindor quickly compensated for his momentary breach in resolve, his nose scrunching up and brows furrowed.

"There's something else bothering you. Stop trying to hide it. I know you better than you think."

Miyuki broke their stalemate, bringing his hands up and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, heaving an exasperated sigh as he contemplated his fate.

"Do you believe that Amortentia is accurate?"

Miyuki looked over at Mei when he didn't respond immediately. The Gryffindor was staring at his bedridden friend like he had just sprouted ears and a tail—which wasn't a rare occurrence at Hogwarts.

"You're thinking of our potions essay while I'm trying to interrogate you?!" Mei shouted, his left eye twitching in annoyance.

"No," Miyuki protested, "Well...kinda, when Slughorn asked us to record the things we smelled there was something I wasn't really expecting."

"Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to continue this twenty questions thing we have going on?"

"Marigolds," Miyuki stated, "I smelt marigolds."

"Mari—" Mei cut himself off as something dawned on him. The boy’s eyes slowly widened before his head whipped up to meet Miyuki's gaze. "(Y/N)?!"

The Slytherin tore his eyes from Mei's, his lips twitched and his uninjured hand fidgeted with the cotton sheets chaining him to the hospital bed; having it said out loud caused all of Miyuki's suppressed emotions to surface, his ears tinting a bright scarlet to seal the deal.

Mei's shock had very quickly transitioned into amusement, his expression had melted into one reminiscent of the Cheshire cat. The boy's smirk widened as he reached over and continuously nudged Miyuki's side.

"You like them, Kazuya~" he teased, breaking into triumphant laughs when Miyuki slapped his hand away. "Godric, I can't believe this is happening—you know I was convinced you'd die alone with how quidditch obsessed you are."

"Wow thanks, Mei," Miyuki said in a flat tone.

Mei grinned and scooted his chair closer to the hospital bed, "So when are you confessing? Oh actually! (Y/n) and I were supposed to go to Hogsmeade next Saturday, I could conveniently not show up and you can take them on a date! Or I could always—"

"Mei!" Miyuki practically shouted, cutting off the impending long-winded ramble the blonde was about to embark on. "I'm not planning on confessing to them."

It was like that simple sentence had sucked all the joy out of the Gryffindor; one second he was planning Miyuki's wedding, the next he was about to explode in a fit of rage.

"WHAT?!" He shrieked, mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish as he stuttered out words. "You can't just not confess!"

"I shouldn't date a person just because a potion and some tea leaves told me to. Do you know how crazy that sounds?"

"But it's destiny, Kazuya!" Mei wailed, grabbing onto the Slytherin's arm—who immediately tried to shake him off.

"Merlin, you sound just like Sawamura," Miyuki mumbled as he pried the boy off his side.

Mei pouted slightly and crossed his arms with a frustrated huff. In an instant, his expression changed, like he had just remembered something vitally important.

"You know what?" He paused, his mouth hung open as he thought over whatever was in his head. The look of confidence swiftly left Mei—his shoulders deflating like a decrepit balloon. "Nevermind. I'm a good friend so I can't tell you that."

Miyuki watched Mei scramble out of the bedside chair and gather his things before the boy whipped out his wand and commanded the privacy curtain to spiral back to its original spot. Mei turned sharply to look back at Miyuki—who continued to squint up at him in confusion.

"Quidditch won't give you everything in life, Kazuya. Sometimes it’s worth it to take a chance."

And with that Mei turned and left the hospital wing, leaving Miyuki—once again—completely alone.

Pomfrey released Miyuki from the hospital wing just after dinner on Monday evening, leaving the boy to trudge all the way down to the Slytherin common room by himself. He felt a sense of dread flopping down onto his bed; the thick, emerald green comforter did little help at cushioning his heavy thoughts.

Any other day he would be down on the pitch, a place that felt more like home than his actual one. Now his keeper's guards and quidditch jumper—folded neatly and placed on the foot of his bed, most likely done by a teammate—gleamed at him in a taunting manner.

Like his own personal hell, he sat there, watching the items remind him of what he could, what he should be doing.

The emptiness of his room eventually started to swallow him. Miyuki was a fickle creature who liked his space, but not a space that would cause him to go mad. The trapped, fruitless atmosphere started to suffocate him; he needed to escape the feeling of uselessness and he knew exactly what that answer was.

The boy frantically scattered about his room, grabbing a pencil and as many papers he could carry with one good arm; there was no time for him to search through his bag for his quidditch notebook—in fact, the idea hadn't even occurred to him.

Even if he couldn't play quidditch he could still observe the team and work on defensive strategies.

The Slytherin keeper went barreling down the corridors of the castle, dipping and cutting through the halls he knew a teacher or Filch wouldn't halt him to scold his insistent running. His surroundings blurred together like one of those impressionist paintings as he ripped through the castle like a tornado.

The door out to the grounds came into view, he could feel the cold breeze drifting in from the open door—the portal to his freedom after days of being glued to a bed was right in front of him.

In the final stretch towards the doors, a figure rounded the corner where the three halls met. His attention was so captivated by the outside that Miyuki hadn't noticed the person until he was ramming straight into them; the papers he and the person were holding spilled across the floor like a bucket of water, both parties following suit in crashing to the ground.

"Oh my gosh! Miyuki, are you ok?!"

The person's voice was frighteningly familiar, a voice that was closely followed by the aroma of marigolds.

Miyuki looked over to where (y/n) was sitting on the floor. He watched their eyes trail over him, their gaze briefly getting caught on the cloth sling his left arm was still securely wrapped in.

"Yeah—yeah I'm fine," he said, hoping to ease their worried expression. "I'm really sorry about running into you."

"It's alright," they responded, waving his apology off with a warm smile. "I did the same thing to you so it's only fair."

He attempted to return their comforting look, the pair of them staring back at each other with similar giddy feelings bubbling in their chests.

"I-ah...let me help you pick your stuff up!" (Y/n) stuttered out. The student scrambled onto their knees as they sorted through the papers, placing them into neat stacks.

Not wanting to be completely rude, Miyuki picked up the paper that fell beside him. The white parchment had neatly printed script at the top spelling out Amortentia followed by a list of objects and scents—two of which were quidditch gloves and broom polish.

"I didn't know you liked quidditch so much," the Slytherin said, handing the paper back to its owner.

(Y/n)'s eyes just about popped out of their head when Miyuki uttered those words; their face burnt hotter than the torches lighting the halls.

"I didn't know either."

Miyuki watched them closely as they nervously nibbled away at the skin of their bottom lip, their hands shook slightly as they picked up the two stacks of paper and reached out to help him up. He didn't know what happened but a rush of adrenaline and anxiety rushed through him, the high feeling made his mouth move faster than his mind.

"Do you like marigolds?!"

It came out sort of like a shout, the volume made (y/n) jump slightly before they processed his words. Instantly, Miyuki felt sick over what he had done; not even two days ago he had said he wasn't going to confess and yet here he was—if he could he'd probably punch himself right now, maybe it'd knock some sense into him.

"I do—it's actually the scent of my shampoo," (y/n)'s brows furrowed, "Why do you ask?"

"Same reason you have quidditch gloves written on that paper."

A small, surprised gasp left (y/n); they bit down harshly on their bottom lip to hide the grin fighting to surface.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Kazuya's body; the stifling secret had been eradicated—and from the glittery look in the eyes of the person opposite him, he'd say it was well-received.

"You were heading down to the pitch?"

Miyuki nodded.

"Good we can head down together!" (Y/n) held onto his things and led the way out the door leaving Miyuki to hurry to match paces with them. The early October wind blew softly around them, chilling their fingers and cheeks as they walked in a Comfortable silence.

As the pair continued down the path—treading over crunchy leaves and the dusty autumn ground—Miyuki's good hand brushed theirs continuously. Their fingers bumped and brushed until eventually Miyuki shyly linked their fingers together.

He decided then that he never wanted to let go.

Maybe he should start putting more faith into this whole magic thing.

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