She's bittersweet, she knocks me off my feet, and I can't help myself, I don't want anyone else.
-Just The Girl, The Click Five.
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The fire was dying by the time everyone had cleared out of the common room. Stiles had completed his Charms essay and was lying on one of the ancient decorative rugs, distractedly playing with a snitch. He had a habit of nicking them after games; five years of playing quidditch had produced a small collection. He liked them, even though he was a chaser. McGonagall always said he had a seeker's build. Maybe there was a part of him that was attached to that.
It was late, too late for him to logically still be up, but it was a Wednesday night, and Lydia always had Transfiguration homework due first lesson on Thursday morning. If he was being honest, he was quite enjoying their late night study arrangement. It didn't matter what kind of day he had been having, there was just something about being around Lydia that made him feel wide awake.
It was the way that she was smarter than him. She never boasted it, never addressed it, she just was. And somehow he was OK with that. It kept him on his toes. He liked it. He liked her. He really, truly liked Lydia. And her impossibly captivating green eyes. And those pouty lips...
The dying fire spat a little, jerking Stiles out of his contemplative and semi-crude thoughts. He sat up, shaking off the drowsiness that threatened to swallow him. An unusual spot of purple in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Stiles spun around, startled. Lydia was standing in the doorway of the staircase that led to the girl's dormitories, clad in violet flannel pajamas, her hair loose over her shoulders and her face clean of makeup. She smiled shyly, as if embarrassed to be caught staring.
"Hey," she mumbled, padding over to him softly on bare feet. Her glittery toenail varnish was chipped, but Stiles knew she didn't care. Kira would have conned her into putting it on when she was bored at some point. Lydia had very cute toes, he noticed. Stiles then wondered when he had started finding toes cute.
Instead of taking one of the obviously more comfortable armchairs, Lydia sank down beside him, a battered textbook in one hand and her wand in the other. Stiles gulped and ran a hand through his already messy hair as her knee knocked against his carelessly. For Merlin's sake, get it together, Stiles thought to himself angrily. She's just a girl.
"McGonagall is making us turn books into crows," Lydia said, pouting. "And I'm terrible at it. All I can do is make them squawk." She gave the book a scathing glare. Stiles laughed quietly.
"Because, as usual, you're over-thinking it," he replied, effortlessly turning the book into a glossy black bird with a flick of his wand. It did a little hop, as if about to take flight, and Stiles quickly switched it back. The book thudded to the ground solidly.
"Show off," Lydia grumbled. She flicked her wand at the book in an imitation of what Stiles had done, making it jump off the floor with a loud screech. A single black feather drifted down beside it.
"What were you thinking about just then?" Stiles asked.
Lydia frowned in annoyance at the useless question.
"I don't know! I was just thinking about doing the spell!" She kicked the book viciously. "Wand technique, pronunciation-"
"That's your problem," interrupted Stiles. "You're thinking about how to do the spell, when what you need to be doing is visualizing it happening. Accio." The book flew into his hand, and he handed it to her with a smile. "Try it again, but this time, focus on imagining the book transforming into the crow. It'll happen. You just need to be the catalyst."
Lydia swallowed hard, nervous to have him watching her so closely. She squeezed her eyes shut, and imagined a glossy, oil-slick black crow, rising from the book as if it was a fish just below the surface of the water, the image becoming clearer and clearer...
Stiles let out a triumphant laugh, and Lydia's eyes snapped open. She blinked a couple of times at the bird in front of her, making sure it was real. The shock in her voice was obvious, even to her.
"I did it."
"Yeah!" Stiles cheered quietly, grinning proudly at her. The bird changed back with a wave of his wand, and Lydia smiled happily.
"That's fantastic! McGonagall can suck it," she giggled. "Thanks, Stilinski."
Stiles looked at her strangely, silent for a moment.
"Sure, Martin," he finally replied. The room was still and quiet, the flames in the fireplace no longer dancing gleefully for their audience, but flickering pathetically as they died.
"Um," Lydia started, clearing her throat awkwardly. "How's Defense Against The Dark Arts going?"
"Mmm," he mumbled, shrugging. "Patronuses are pretty easy. Same basic principle as Transfiguration. Imagination is more important than knowledge in both, you know?"
"Ugh. Of course you would find them easy," said Lydia bitterly. "I've been working on mine for weeks, and I'm still struggling."
Stiles laughed at that.
"Well? You gonna show me or what?" He nudged her playfully.
Lydia wondered when they had gotten to the point where their relationship was in a Jeckyl and Hyde state. They could be perfectly civil, occasionally even flirty during the nights, when it was just the two of them and they were exhausted from classes, but the days, however, were another story entirely. They went from civil to civil war in the space of a few hours, and Stiles delighted in teasing Lydia at every opportunity. Not necessarily in a cruel way, but she wanted to throw her textbook at his head most of the time.
That evening, though... that split second in the shadowy alcove, she had thought he was going to kiss her. And she would have let him. It didn't make sense, of course, and yet, there was a tiny, hidden part of her that had wanted him to kiss her. And Lydia wasn't ready to deal with that part of her yet. So she put it on mute and ignored it.
"Fine," she said grudgingly. "I'll show you."
Lydia closed her eyes again, her brow furrowed in concentration and her cheeks pink as she held her breath, exhaling with her words.
"Expecto Patronum."
A stream of silver mist shot out of the end of her wand, closely followed by a massive, pure white shape, taller than she was when standing, but not by much. It glowed softly in the dim common room, poised as if ready to flee at the first sign of danger. A shimmering, elegant doe.
It faded away in a cloud of opaque fog, the white light disappearing with it. Stiles was pretty sure he had stopped breathing. His lips were parted slightly, and goosebumps had sprung up all over his body.
"Well?" Lydia asked, turning to him. Stiles snapped out of his stunned reaction quickly, blinking several times to clear his head. "What do you think?"
Stiles cleared his throat, fidgeting uncomfortably.
"I think it's a deer," he replied. Lydia rolled her eyes.
"It's a doe," she shot back.
"Which is a female... what?"
"Deer." Lydia sighed in annoyance.
Stiles grinned victoriously, letting his usual arrogant façade slide back into place, his mind still racing. Lydia shrugged, setting her wand down and pulling her knees in to hug them to her little body.
"Whatever," she said. "Your turn, Stilinski."
Lydia raised her eyebrows expectantly at him. Stiles gulped nervously, his skin prickling with heat as his stomach flipped.
"I-uh," he stammered. "I'd actually better be... getting to bed. Scott, today, he... uh, thought of this evasive flying technique that he wanted to try out and he promised to wake me up at like, five in the morning to go down to the pitch." He shrugged, as if apologetic for the inconvenience. "I'll have to show you some other time."
Lydia pouted a little, disappointed.
"Kay. Some other time."
Stiles nodded vigorously in agreement, leaping to his feet and grabbing Lydia's hand to help her up with him. She tried not to let him see the pink glow that spread over her cheeks at the innocent gesture.
Stiles dropped her hand reluctantly, walking her over to the same doorway she had been standing in earlier. The end of the night was always awkward, but Stiles had a particularly fierce hatred for it, purely because he didn't like that his time with Lydia was over.
It was borrowed time, and he knew it, but Stiles couldn't help but look forward to his nights with her. They were the only times when she was just... Lydia. She spoke to him softly, sometimes cheekily, without any scorn or mocking in her voice or expression. Her eyes held nothing but friendliness, and Stiles wondered about the possibilities that coursed through his mind in the hours after they had both gone to bed.
He bit his lip as she spun around to look him in the eyes, the green in hers barely visible in the dark.
"Night, Stilinski," she murmured quietly. She was shorter than him, much shorter, but Stiles found it likable, somehow. Her size didn't reflect her personality. The only thing about her that really matched it was her hair; as fiery as her temper, yet still soft to anyone that she let close enough to her.
"Night, Martin," he responded with a crooked grin, turning to leave before she did. He hated watching her walk away.
Stiles opened door of the dormitory quietly, wincing as it creaked the tiniest bit. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it carelessly onto his trunk, falling onto his bed with a ridiculous grin plastered to his face. His glasses found their way to his bedside table, and he closed his eyes, Lydia's blushing face remaining in his vision.
It was a doe. A doe, a perfect match to his stag. They were a pair. But Stiles was determined to keep her from finding out. It would embarrass her too much. But the thought of her knowing, of realizing that they matched...
Stiles sighed, one final, barely formed thought resonating in his head as he fell asleep.
She's not mine.
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1. 'Imagination is more important than knowledge.' Season 2 parallels, anybody?
2. YESYESYESYESYES JILY FEELS EVERYWHERE!!!! I love that their patronuses were a pair. I love it. I just... I have many emotions about this, okay?
3. Side note: Yes, Remus was a prefect with Lily, but Isaac isn't one with Lydia. I don't know why, I just wrote it that way.
4. I really love that last line. It has that kind of heartbreaking echo that sticks with you. That sounds stuck up, but like, think about any time you've been jealous of somebody flirting with the guy/girl you like, and it sort of punches you in the stomach before you sort of remind yourself, "Okay, stop it. He/She's not mine." That's what I mean. (Again, shut up, Liv.)
5. I MISSPELLED GRYFFINDOR AT LEAST THREE TIMES IN THE PAST THREE CHAPTERS AND I AM SO ASHAMED.
6. Official tag for any Enchanted gifs or edits (or even text posts or links idk) you guys want to make: Gryffindor Stydia. That's the Enchanted tag. Again, pretty sure no-one will use it but me, but I'll be posting stuff on there just like I do on the Room Mates tag.
Room Mates next chap is still in the works. It'll be up soon, but not REALLY soon.
Thanks for reading guys!
-Z.