Emma liked quiet corners. The library at dusk, when the candles floated low and the only sounds were the crackle of parchment, that was her world. Knowledge fit her like a cloak—calm, precise, always reliable.

Sebastian, though? He was chaos dressed like confidence. The boy had fire in his veins and shadows on his conscience. Everyone knew he was clever, but he wore his cleverness like a weapon, not a comfort.

It started with a duel. Emma hadn’t even planned to be there, but her prefect had caught her nose in a book after curfew and ordered her back to the dormitory. On her way, she stumbled right into the Crossed Wands courtyard—and into Sebastian, wand out, grin sharp as a blade.

“Care for a warm-up?” he asked, cocking his head.

Emma hesitated. She didn’t duel unless necessary. But there was something in his eyes—mischief, challenge, maybe even a dare. So she tucked her book under one arm, raised her wand, and the courtyard lit up with sparks.

When it was over, Sebastian was flat on his back, laughing even though he’d lost. “Merlin’s beard,” he said, brushing ash off his sleeve, “you’re wasted in Ravenclaw. You should’ve been a Slytherin.”

Emma only raised an eyebrow. “And you should’ve read more instead of running your mouth.”

From that night on, he followed her. Not like a puppy—more like a storm. He’d corner her after class, whispering secrets about hidden catacombs, cursed relics, the kind of forbidden magic Ravenclaws weren’t supposed to touch. She’d sigh, roll her eyes, remind him that rules existed for a reason—but somehow, somehow, she always ended up walking beside him down dark corridors.

Because for all his recklessness, Sebastian saw her. Not just the quiet Ravenclaw who always had the right answer, but Emma—the witch with a hunger for more than just books, the one who could match his fire with steel.

And Emma? She’d never admit it out loud, but Sebastian’s chaos lit a spark in her that no library ever could