Part 3/4
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Requested by:
Anonymous
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In this one you're twinning (HA)
But srsly it's some Fred and George viiiiibes
And fair warning I have a school dance tmrw so idk if an update is going to happen or nah
Luke:
The infamous Hemmings twins. Luke and Y/N, known throughout Hogwarts for their talent at Quidditch, deep love for chocolate frogs, and making corny math jokes.
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You and Luke always sat next to each other at dinner. It didn't matter where at the table you were, or who was around you as long as you were next to each other. The two of you were attached at the hip, always had been and will be besties.
"HEY Y/N?!" Your twin elbowed you, speaking loudly in a tone he reserved for one thing and one thing only, bad jokes.
Everyone around you groaned, the thing about there being two of you meant that one of you could start the joke and the other would finish it.
"WHAT LUKE?" You asked with just as much enthusiasm?
"WHAT DID THE CELL SAY TO HIS SISTER WHEN SHE STEPPED ON HIS FOOT?" He grinned broadly, looking over at you.
"Oh here we go," Liam dug back into his food and shook his head.
"WHAT LUKE?" You giggled a little in anticipation.
"MITOSIS!" He said, and you both laughed loudly.
...
You figured that part of the reason why they all put up with you was because of the Quidditch skills you and Luke demonstrated.
Not only were you both excellent at flying and maneuvers, but the two of you were really good at nonverbal communication and just coming to silent understandings. For instance, if a bludger was flying right for one of your fellow Ravenclaws, you just knew who was going to get it. Since you didn't need any time to make decisions, and you both worked together so well, you had caused the amount of bludger hits on the Ravenclaw team to plummet dramatically.
You were just great beaters, and luckily your housemates appreciated that enough to go along with your stupid jokes. Even though you still felt like they loved them way deep-down in their hearts.
The only time you were really serious was when you were essentially trying to knock people off of their brooms with giant enchanted balls. You had to focus on the game so that nobody on your team got hurt.
Especially since your next game was against Slytherin. They were notorious for being dangerously accurate with bludger aim, so your job was especially important. You could tell Luke was nervous too, because he kept on fixing his hair and glancing over at the other team, or more specifically, Michael Clifford.
The new Slytherin Quidditch Captain, and also a beater for the team. He was no joke, scary on and off of the field.
He wasn't all that tall, but what he lacked in height he made up for in personality. If Michael Clifford was talking to you, the last thing on your mind would be that he was short. He had had an "accident" in potions that had left him with blood red hair, which you thought suited him rather well. His skin was pale, and his eyes were a stunning green. He was really hot, but super scary.
One thing that made him really stick out in a crowd, if you ignored the hair, were his massive enchanted snake tattoos.
So, what is an enchanted tattoo?
Well first and foremost, against school policy, not that he listened to those. But essentially they moved all over his body, and behaved according to his mood. You had seen a terrified first year run for their life when an angry tattoo cobra rippled up Michael's skin to his neck and then expanded out like it was hissing. Not that you would ever admit it, but you thought that they made him look badass and even hotter.
Not that he'd ever like a nerd like you though, he could have most of the girls, and plenty of the boys, in Hogwarts.
While you were awkwardly staring at him, his green eyes snapped up to meet yours.
You gulped and blushed, looking away quickly. But from the corner of your eye you could see him smirk and look you up and down. He probably thought that you were such a loser. Way to go Y/N.
"Why do you look like a tomato?" Your brother raised his eyebrows, finally leaving his hair alone.
"I, errr," you stuttered awkwardly.
He didn't let up though, continuing to look at you for an answer. You felt yourself blush even more.
"Nothing Luke," you dismissed him, clearing your throat.
"Mhmmmm," he flicked an imaginary piece of dust from his broom handle, "so you weren't checking the CAPTAIN OF THE OTHER TEAM OUT!"
He said that way too loudly. That was made obvious by the fact that the rest of your team went quiet, part of the stands, and even Michael himself looked over right at you.
"LUKE YOU LITTLE-!" You threw down your broomstick and tackled him.
He squealed like a little girl and held his hands over his face.
"NOOOO! NOT THE FACE! IT'S MY BEST FEATURE!" He said dramatically.
"If your face is your best feature then I feel sorry for you," you snapped.
Your keeper, and captain of the team walked over and pulled you up off of Luke.
"That's enough, you two need to focus on the game, if we want the Quidditch Cup, we need to win," he said very seriously.
"We know," you and Luke said at the same time.
The captain nodded, rather satisfied, before walking over to talk with the seeker.
You weren't done though, and once Luke stood up, you accidentally pushed him back down again.
"Oof," he whined as he fell on his butt.
He pouted and rubbed his lower back, looking up at you sorrowfully.
You shrugged, offering him no sympathy as you instead chose to inspect the filled stands.
"Fiiine," he groaned, "since I doubt you'll let me stand up until I apologize, I'm sorry that I announced your undying love for Michael Clifford too loudly."
You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the totally bogus apology, but gave Luke a hand standing up anyway.
"Thank you," he nodded, dusting himself off.
"It's not an undying love anyway," you muttered as the teams began to assemble on the ground.
"Whatever you say," your brother tried to hold in a smile.
"How'd you know anyway?" You frowned, glancing over at his face.
"Please, we shared the same womb, I know everything about you," Luke dismissed you with a wave of his hand.
But you still felt a little off about it all. What if you were being way too obvious. You didn't want him, or anyone else, to think that you were desperate or anything.
Your mind raced as you had to meticulously think through every interaction you had ever had with him, no matter how small, and cringe at it. You were so awkward sometimes. You blamed your lack of social skills on spending too much time with Luke and reading. No one ever told you the proper way to talk to boys you liked. So you epically failed sometimes.
Madame Hooch blew her whistles and you absentmindedly pushed up off the ground, rocketing up to the playing field with your bat in hand.
"Whatever your thinking about stop it," Luke hissed as you started to get into position, "if you don't, Loverboy will quite literally knock you off of your feet."
You snorted and lazily flew away from him, "I'm so focused on the game, you wouldn't believe it," you said.
Luke didn't look convinced, but it didn't really matter. Either way, you pushed Michael to the back of your mind as the game started.
Things went well in the beginning too. Despite the fact that Michael himself was a phenomenal beater, his fellow Slytherin in the same position wasn't that good. You and Luke combined were able to not only deflect bludgers, but do your iconic Double Twin Knockout where one of you would hit the bludger at the other, and then the one who got it would aim it for a player. It worked really well because then both of you could function as one beater and cover the whole field.
You managed to keep Michael playing defense by mostly aiming for the seeker. You had an affinity for trying to knock seekers out of the sky, it was a hobby of yours since they were so hard to guard.
Ravenclaw managed to score several times, and it looked like the game wasn't going to be as bad as the captain had made it seem.
So you went into autopilot, or more accurately, autobeater mode. You didn't think much as you rocketed bludgers too and fro. Your mind went back to thinking about Michael, so you looked over at him while he played.
There was sweat dripping down his face that stuck his hair down, and gave him a pretty sheen. His jaw was gritted and you could almost see his muscles flex each time he swung his bat to hit the ball.
Wow did he look good.
A problem soon materialized. Namely a bludger flying at your head. A bludger that you didn't notice, one that violently hit you.
Luckily you passed out quickly, there was only minimal pain as you fell from your broom and started to hurl toward the ground. You could almost hear the faint echo of terrified screams as you plummeted, but you lost your consciousness too quickly to be scared.
When you began to wake up, someone was holding your hand. You assumed that it was Luke.
"Ughhhh," you groaned, unwilling to open your eyes as you already had a killer headache.
You squeezed the hand of whoever was sitting next to you as you dramatically threw and arm over your eyes, "whyyyy am I so stupid Luke? You told me not to think about him and to focus but I couldn't."
You took in a deep breath.
"He's just so cute you don't understand. I can't be held accountable to my own thoughts when I can see Michael," you complained.
There was a deep chuckle from the person next to you. Too deep to be Luke.
Uh oh your face began to heat up in a familiar blush as you realized that you had just admitted that you liked Michael Clifford to a yet-to-be-identified person.
You really hoped that it was Luke's best friend Calum. Calum could chuckle deep, and it was a very Luke-like thing to do to make one of his friends sit with you while he ran to the bathroom or something so that you wouldn't wake up alone.
But when you opened one eye and moved your arm to look, it wasn't Luke or Calum sitting there. It was Michael himself, still in his Quidditch uniform.
"I'm just so cute huh babe?" He quirked an eyebrow and held in a laugh.
You tried to recover quickly even though you were shocked and incredibly embarrassed.
"I- I-" you cleared your throat, "maybe." You couldn't do it. Not when he was staring at you like that. You were intoxicated on his deep green eyes.
"Mhmmmm," the low rumble in his throat was accompanied by movement of his tattoo. It slithered up his neck and sat just below his jawline, curling around his Adams's apple.
"Why are you here?" You squeaked, blushing even harder when you realized that you were still holding his hand.
"I wanted to make sure that you were okay, Luke hit you pretty hard with that bludger," he shook his head, "and I thought that Styles was a bad beater."
You giggled a little, which made him smile. "Yeah, I think I'm okay just a headache, did I hit the ground hard?"
He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"Baby I didn't let you anywhere near the ground, I caught you before you were halfway down," he promised, running his thumb over your knuckles.
You internally swooned, really hoping that this was real life and not some concussion hallucination.
"Thank you," you said shyly, letting your head tilt down a little and your eyes look away.
"Hey," he used his index finger to lift your chin back up, "let me see your pretty eyes."
You immediately looked into his eyes, watching as he slowly began to close the space separating your faces.
That's when your lame twin decided to walk back in.
"WHOA WHOA WHOA! I LEAVE THE ROOM FOR FIVE MINUTES AND YOU'RE CANOODLING? WHAT THE HECK GUYS?" He jumped up into the air and moved spastically.
Michael sighed and moved back, he mouthed later at you, which was good considering he still wanted to make out even though Luke would be undoubtedly loud about it.
You could wait a little longer.
Petition to make 'betterly' a word.
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