The dim light of St. Mungo's Hospital filtered through thick curtains, casting a pale glow over the crisp white sheets of the bed.
Kenma sat silently at the bedside, his gaze fixed on Hinata's serene, sleeping face. A faint flush of fever still lingered on Hinata’s cheeks, and even beneath the thin blanket, the heat of his body seemed to radiate into the room, reaching Kenma’s skin. Gently, Kenma pressed the back of his hand against Hinata's forehead. The fever had receded significantly, though a trace of warmth still remained.
"Not as hot anymore," Kenma thought silently. Yet, his fingers lingered on Hinata's forehead, tracing the soft texture of his skin. Hinata lay there, peaceful and defenseless, stirring emotions in Kenma that weighed heavily on his chest.
Kenma's eyes shifted to the bedside table, where a vial of Amortentia lay quietly. His fingers unconsciously brushing the cold surface of the bottle. The viscous pink liquid inside glimmered unnaturally, almost garish in its brightness, a sinister reminder of its forbidden power. But Kenma couldn’t look away.
He shouldn’t even be considering this.
Hinata was his friend—closer than a friend, even. But the shining, effervescent presence of Hinata sparked a possessiveness within him that he could no longer ignore. Hinata's vibrant energy on the Quidditch pitch, his uninhibited smiles—it all fueled a gnawing jealousy within Kenma. He hated seeing Hinata bask in the attention of so many, especially the scouts from professional Quidditch teams.
"You’re going to fly away," Kenma thought bitterly. He knew the potion’s power—it could make Hinata’s heart beat only for him, could make Kenma the center of Hinata’s world.
He knew it was irrational, immoral even, but the yearning buried deep within him whispered otherwise. "If I don’t use it, Shoyo will leave me for places I can’t reach."
Hinata’s quiet breathing filled the room, a warmth in the air that made Kenma’s chest ache. His gaze fell once more to the vial on the table, where the pink liquid swirled as if biding its time.
"I don’t want you to fly away..."
Kenma’s wand flicked toward the water jug on the table, the movement deft and practiced. He whispered a spell, watching as the pink liquid dissolved seamlessly into the water, leaving no trace of its existence.
"He’ll never know," Kenma murmured to himself as the potion blended into the clear water. He gently pushed the jug closer to Hinata’s bed, just as the redhead stirred faintly.
Hinata’s lashes fluttered, and his eyes opened slowly. There was a hazy confusion in his gaze, as though he was waking from a dream.
"Kenma..." The sound of his name, rasped out in Hinata’s hoarse and sleepy voice, struck a chord deep within him. Those bright, liquid eyes, still unfocused, found his face with an intensity that made Kenma’s breath catch.
His heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t the potion’s doing—at least not yet—but Hinata’s unguarded reaction filled him with a secret satisfaction.
"Ah, I came to check on my friend," Kenma replied softly, a faint smile playing on his lips, as if nothing was amiss. He waved his wand, summoning a glass. "Here, drink some water, Shoyo."
Hinata blinked, his gaze shifting to the jug, his expression still dazed. He struggled to sit up, his movements sluggish with fatigue. Reaching for the glass, his fingers fumbled slightly, clumsy like a child just waking.
"Thanks, Kenma!" Hinata’s voice was rough but carried the warmth of unguarded trust, as though Kenma’s presence was the most natural thing in the world.
He raised the glass and took a sip. The cool water slid down his throat, and Kenma couldn’t tear his eyes away from the drops that clung to Hinata’s lips. The sight of him, so open and vulnerable, sent a thrill racing through Kenma’s veins.
When Hinata finished drinking, he looked up, his gaze as clear as ever. "You’ve been here the whole time? What about the tryouts? Did we win?" His voice was tinged with dryness but also an unshakable closeness. He blinked, his expression softening. "I thought I was dreaming for sure!"
Kenma chuckled lightly, his tone carefully nonchalant. "Yes, Shoyo, I’ve been here the whole time." His gaze lingered on Hinata’s face as if memorizing every detail. Fever-softened and pliant, Hinata looked impossibly fragile, yet irresistibly radiant.
"You look better," Kenma remarked, his voice calm, though his heart was anything but. The way Hinata looked at him—so guileless and earnest—felt like a sharp arrow aimed straight at his carefully guarded emotions.
With a soft laugh, Hinata leaned back against the pillows. "Having you here makes me feel a lot better..." His hand rubbed at his eyes, his voice tinged with drowsy affection. Yet, his smile shone through—a bright, untouchable warmth that stirred something dangerous in Kenma’s heart.
-
The Hogwarts greenhouse was suffused with a curious atmosphere, where the cold winter sunlight filtered through the glass panels and mixed with the damp, earthy air within.
"Kenma, you've been keeping too close an eye on the little guy lately," Kuroo drawled, his tone laden with unmistakable teasing. He stood by a cabinet in the corner of the greenhouse, rummaging through a selection of earmuffs. “Anyone who watched the tryouts knows he just had a streak of bad luck—don’t be overprotective.” His gaze was pointed, full of implication.
"It’s a shame, really. That’s why they awarded Hinata the Felix Felicis… By the way, is this your line to say?" Yaku interjected, his face a portrait of disbelief. “Hearing ‘don’t be overprotective’ come out of your mouth is throwing me for a loop.”
Kuroo finally picked out the softest-looking pair of earmuffs. After aggressively fluffing them up, he handed them to Kenma. Accepting them with a calm demeanor, Kenma replied in a tone so even it was as though the jests had nothing to do with him: “What are you talking about, Kuroo? Shoyo came to me himself.”
Kuroo let out a low chuckle, clearly unconvinced, and was about to retort when a light, rapid rhythm of footsteps from outside the greenhouse cut him off.
“What are you guys talking about?” The greenhouse door swung open, and Hinata poked his head in, beaming brightly. His hair was tousled, his cheeks flushed with the warmth of a post-run glow, and his eyes sparkled with uncontainable energy. His presence filled the space like sunlight breaking through overcast skies, banishing the lingering chill of the morning.
Kuroo smiled wryly at the sight. “Well, look who it is. The little guy’s here.” Shaking his head slightly, he added with a teasing lilt, “How’s recovery going? You were only down for a few days; don’t overdo it.”
Hinata strode cheerfully over to Kenma’s side, thumping his chest for emphasis. “I’m all better now! This time, I won’t mess up because of a fever!”
Kuroo squinted at him, skepticism evident, but eventually gave a casual pat on Hinata’s shoulder. “You’re as energetic as ever, huh? It’s a shame the Sweetwater Werewolves didn’t sign you—that’s their loss.”
Kenma, as ever, remained silently observant, his gaze fixed on Hinata. Without a word, he passed the earmuffs Kuroo had so carefully chosen over to Hinata, then quietly turned away and walked toward the Herbology workbench.
Today’s class was a joint Herbology session for Slytherins and Gryffindors. Such cross-house courses were rare, but due to scheduling adjustments at Hogwarts, the two rival houses were forced to share the greenhouse. The resulting tension was palpable, the close quarters threatening to ignite conflicts at any moment.
Hinata jogged to catch up with Kenma. “Kenma, are you ready to pull out the Mandrake?” His voice brimmed with barely contained excitement, his eyes practically glued to Kenma’s face.
Kenma glanced at him and replied coolly, “Excited, are you? Be careful.”
Hinata leaned in closer, his expression earnest and unabashedly enthusiastic. “Of course! Taking a class with you is exciting!”
Kenma averted his gaze nonchalantly, slowly adjusting his earmuffs. A subtle sense of satisfaction bubbled up within him, hidden beneath his composed exterior. He pulled on his gloves and began preparing for the task.
Hinata, meanwhile, was already standing by his Mandrake, gripping its leaves with both hands, his face alight with anticipation. Just as he touched the Mandrake’s foliage, Kenma reached out and gently pressed a hand to his shoulder.
Startled, Hinata looked up at Kenma, confusion flickering in his wide eyes.
“Wait,” Kenma said in a steady tone, his hand firm on Hinata’s shoulder, his voice carrying an unspoken authority. “Don’t rush. Take it slow.”
Hinata’s gaze stayed locked on Kenma, his cheeks faintly tinged with pink. Relaxing his grip, he pressed his lips together and softened his tone. “Alright, let’s do it together.”
Kenma nodded, releasing Hinata’s shoulder. Together, they grasped the Mandrake’s leaves. Hinata’s fingers trembled slightly, brushing against the back of Kenma’s hand, the warmth of the touch startling him enough that he flinched. His eyes stayed fixed on Kenma’s face, though, a flicker of shyness creeping into his expression.
“Just like that,” Kenma said softly.
Hinata seemed momentarily flustered by the accidental touch. But they worked together, pulling with coordinated strength. The Mandrake erupted from the soil with a piercing shriek. Even with their earmuffs muffling the sound, the harsh cry made several students wince.
Hinata quickly placed the Mandrake into the prepared pot, then turned to Kenma with a look of unabashed satisfaction.
“Well done,” Kenma said mildly, his gaze calm but tinged with genuine approval.
Hinata’s face lit up with joy, his expression practically radiating his delight at earning Kenma’s praise. He exhaled in relief and looked up, beaming brightly. “Really? I thought I’d mess it up!”
Kenma’s lips curved in the faintest of smiles before his usual composure returned. “Be more careful next time, Shoyo.”
Hinata’s gaze wavered, his blush deepening. “I’ll try harder so you’ll praise me more!”
Kenma lowered his eyes to the pink tint in Hinata’s cheeks, a subtle sense of satisfaction blooming within him. The more unwittingly Hinata drew closer, the stronger Kenma’s desire for control grew. That unguarded trust, that unique reliance—he couldn’t help but think it should belong solely to him.
-
On a brisk morning at the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, a chilling wind whipped through the air, sending golden leaves scattering across the grounds. Today’s match, the most anticipated of the season—Gryffindor versus Slytherin—was already in full swing. Every darting figure in the sky ignited waves of cheers from the stands, the roaring energy practically setting the pitch ablaze.
Inside the Gryffindor locker room, Yachi was all smiles as she carried in several bottles of pumpkin juice. Her confidence radiated through the room. “We’ve got a professional-level Chaser and a near-professional Seeker!” she said brightly, handing the bottles to her teammates. “Slytherin doesn’t stand a chance this year...”
Daichi took a sip of the pumpkin juice, his brow furrowing slightly as an image of Slytherin’s Seeker flashed through his mind—those detached, golden eyes staring down from the sky, exuding a chilling, unshakable dominance.
“Hinata,” Daichi called, his gaze softening with concern. “You’re feeling better now, right?”
Kageyama, standing nearby, impatiently reached out and ruffled Hinata’s hair. “Hey, idiot, the captain’s asking you a question!”
Snapped out of his thoughts, Hinata’s face lit up with an eager grin. “Is it time to play?” he asked, his amber eyes gleaming with excitement, as if he couldn’t bear to waste another second.
Kageyama sighed, adjusting his goggles with a determined look. “Don’t mess this up,” he muttered. Having already been scouted by the Schweden Wolves last year as a Chaser for the professional league, this match was a rare return to campus play for him.
Hinata nodded fervently, his excitement barely contained.
The whistle blew, and the pitch erupted in chaos. Spells and cheers mingled in the air as the players soared into the sky, weaving through the turbulent scene. Every dive, feint, and strike held the audience spellbound, their collective breaths hitching with every close call.
Kageyama’s professional-level passes cleared every obstacle from Hinata’s path, creating flawless openings for the pursuit of the Golden Snitch. Meanwhile, far above, Slytherin’s Seeker, Kenma, floated calmly. His piercing gaze dissected the chaos below, his serene composure a stark contrast to the frenzied match. Though his speed couldn’t match Hinata’s, Kenma’s razor-sharp instincts repeatedly disrupted Gryffindor’s offense, gradually steadying Slytherin’s rhythm.
On the other end of the pitch, Gryffindor’s Beater Kuroo was locked in a fierce duel with Slytherin’s Tsukishima. The Bludger whizzed between them like a living missile. Kuroo’s aggressive strikes clashed with Tsukishima’s calculated defenses, neither willing to yield an inch.
High above, Kenma’s eyes flickered as he caught sight of Hinata’s rapid movement. A flick of his finger subtly signaled Slytherin’s Chaser, Lev, directing him toward the Quaffle.
“There it is!” a gasp rippled through the crowd. The Golden Snitch shimmered faintly in the lower airspace, a tiny beacon of light. Without hesitation, Hinata rocketed downward, an arrow shot from the bow, his focus fixed on the Snitch. The wind roared in his ears, and his hand stretched out eagerly toward the glowing prize.
But Lev, following Kenma’s silent cue, sent a Bludger hurtling toward Hinata with a powerful swing. In the final moments before impact, Hinata twisted nimbly, narrowly avoiding the incoming Bludger. The Snitch disappeared from view, but instead of frustration, determination burned brighter in his amber eyes.
The Snitch reappeared, and this time Kenma moved first, his broom diving sharply toward it.
Unaware of the Snitch’s exact location, Hinata felt an inexplicable pull—a magnetic force drawing him toward Kenma. Trusting his instincts, he chased after the Slytherin Seeker, the two of them slicing through the air like parallel comets.
Closer and closer they came. Kenma’s outstretched fingers were mere inches from the Snitch’s gleaming surface when, suddenly, Hinata veered in from the side. In the same split second, both of their hands closed around the Snitch. Their fingers brushed lightly against each other, and for an instant, time seemed to freeze.
The warmth of Hinata’s hand against his sent a fleeting tremor through Kenma’s calm exterior. His eyes softened imperceptibly, though his face remained composed.
The stadium fell silent, stunned by the impossible feat. From the ground, it had appeared as though Hinata had flown blindly toward Kenma, yet somehow, he’d captured the Snitch as if guided by an unseen force. The crowd erupted into deafening cheers and frantic speculation about the miraculous catch.
Hinata’s face lit up with a proud grin, his gaze locking onto Kenma’s. Kenma, ever calm, let his gaze linger on Hinata for a moment longer, the faintest trace of warmth glinting in his eyes.
The silence shattered as the stands roared with applause, the electric energy of the match reaching its climax.
-
Kenma pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement, his sharp gaze sweeping across the space conjured specifically to meet his unspoken "needs." In the warm golden light, familiar gaming consoles lay scattered on the desk, alongside a cauldron emitting faint pink smoke and several Quidditch magazines.
On the cover of one magazine, the headline practically mocked him: “The Swindon Wolves: Professional Players and Hogwarts Students.” Next to Kageyama’s stiff smile, Bokuto grinned with unrestrained exuberance. Beneath the title, a subtitle stood out in bold: “Are There Still Hidden Gems at Hogwarts? The Orange-Haired Future Star!” Kenma’s icy gaze skimmed over the blurred figure of an orange-haired boy on the cover.
“The Room of Requirement,” Kenma mused coldly, a flicker of irritation crossing his mind. “Of all things, why this?”
A sweet scent wafted from the cauldron—the unmistakable fragrance of Amortentia, the most potent love potion. Muttering “Protego,” Kenma surrounded himself with an invisible shield and swiftly followed it with a series of cleaning charms to dispel any lingering effects.
Just as he lifted the now-pristine vial from the cauldron, the door creaked open again—
“Kenma?” a voice called out, startling him. His hand jerked, nearly dropping the vial. Standing in the doorway, cheeks flushed and voice brimming with surprise, was Hinata. He looked as if he hadn’t expected to find anyone there, least of all Kenma.
Kenma quickly stifled his shock, muttering a silent charm to obscure the cauldron from view. With forced composure, he asked, “Shoyo? Why are you here?”
“Oh, um…” Hinata scratched the back of his head sheepishly, his gaze flickering to Kenma’s face before darting away, his voice tinged with a shy enthusiasm. “The Quidditch pitch was taken by the Ravenclaw team today, so I thought the Room of Requirement might have something I could use for practice. I didn’t expect to find you here!”
Kenma’s chest tightened as realization struck—Hinata’s presence wasn’t a mere coincidence. The Room of Requirement responded to the deepest desires of those who sought it. The lingering Amortentia must have influenced Hinata’s subconscious, compelling him to make seeing Kenma his primary wish.
As Kenma racked his brain for a plausible excuse, Hinata, seemingly oblivious, fidgeted awkwardly before letting his gaze wander. With exaggerated interest, he fixated on the magazines scattered across the desk. “Huh? Why are Kageyama and Bokuto’s pictures here? So cool—ugh, so annoying how good they look!” His fingers traced the magazine cover as he grinned. “Wait, Kenma! You read Quidditch magazines? And here I thought you didn’t care about Quidditch! Guess you’re secretly a fan, huh?”
“Shoyo…” Kenma pressed his lips together, a storm of emotions surging beneath his calm exterior. His eyes locked onto Hinata, and for a moment, he hesitated, caught between his darker instincts and the urge to keep his distance. The possessiveness clawing at his heart was intoxicating, a dangerous mix of fear and longing. He tried to steel himself, to push the emotions back. “If one day… you’re chosen by a professional team…”
“Kenma!” Hinata interrupted, his voice suddenly resolute. His honey-colored eyes avoided Kenma’s gaze, but his tone carried unwavering conviction. “I—I just want to tell you… there’s something that won’t change, no matter where I go.”
Kenma’s heart raced as Hinata continued, his words spilling out like a confession. “You’re the most important person to me. I just want to be with you—whether it’s practicing or… everything.”
The flood of joy that surged through Kenma was almost unbearable, his hidden possessiveness roaring to life. The sweet, cloying scent of the Amortentia permeated the room, intensifying the emotions threatening to consume him. His rational mind screamed at him that these feelings weren’t real, that they were tainted by the potion’s influence. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was drowning in them, willingly sinking deeper.
“Shoyo…” Kenma’s voice trembled as he spoke, his gaze piercing and unreadable. “Do you even know what you’re saying…?”
Hinata faltered, his face flushed with embarrassment. “If—if you think it’s weird…”
Overcome by a surge of uncontrollable desire, Kenma leaned forward, his movements deliberate and unyielding. He closed the distance between them, his lips capturing Hinata’s with a fervor that left no room for hesitation. Hinata’s eyes widened momentarily in shock before fluttering shut, his response soft yet passionate, meeting Kenma’s kiss with an unexpected tenderness.
The Amortentia’s intoxicating aroma coiled around them, saturating the air with its maddening sweetness, as if binding them together in an unbreakable embrace. In that moment, the rest of the world seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them, caught in a vortex of raw emotion and unspoken truths.
-
Kenma quietly pushed the shredded valerian roots to one side and picked up the silver spoon meant for crushing Sopophorous beans. The classroom noise was making it hard for him to focus. This was a mixed-year, cross-house Potions class, a setting ripe for chaos. Predictably, antics were doubled, such as Miya and Oikawa waving their wands at each other, loudly exchanging curses.
"Hey, stop that! It's dangerous!" Sugawara shouted, hurriedly brandishing his wand to restore order. He glanced at Kenma with concern and bent down slightly. "Kenma, are you feeling unwell?"
"If I shaved that empty head of yours," Miya said with a smirk, slashing his wand through the air with Sectumsempra, "maybe we wouldn't have pigs squealing in the Quidditch stands anymore."
"And what would you do with my hair?" Oikawa shot back, countering with a Bat-Bogey Hex. "Brew a potion? Hope it makes girls fall in love with you?"
"Gross…" Kenma muttered under his breath. "Who’d use Polyjuice Potion to turn into Oikawa, anyway?"
"Maybe with some Amortentia?" Sugawara teased, chuckling.
"Amortentia?" A flicker crossed Kenma's golden eyes.
"It's a recent discovery," Akaashi interjected, pushing up his glasses with deliberate precision. "The true method for brewing Amortentia won’t be included in textbooks until the next revision. Officially confirmed by the magical community, Amortentia, like Polyjuice Potion, requires a 'personal ingredient' to achieve its signature pearlescent sheen. Historically, wizards may have unintentionally added fragments of themselves without realizing it. Without this step, the potion remains a thick pink sludge, devoid of its distinct scent or any enchantment."
"Wow, Akaashi, aren’t you only a fourth year?" Sugawara exclaimed. "I wish you could sit Asahi’s Potions O.W.L.s for him! Or better yet, brew him some Felix Felicis."
Asahi raised his head from his lab report, his face pale under the looming shadow of his Potions retake.
"Felix Felicis?" Oikawa quipped, arching an eyebrow as he dodged another spell. "That’s a cheeky suggestion for you, Sugawara."
The surrounding laughter blurred into static as Kenma's mind spiraled. Amortentia’s brewing principles, Akaashi’s mention of "personal ingredients"—the words echoed endlessly in his head. The chatter around him vanished, as if Hogwarts itself had been silenced, leaving him standing alone at the door to the Room of Requirement, his chest tight with secret torment and unease.
He entered the Room of Requirement, silently repeating his need over and over. Pristine cauldrons, flat-bottomed pans, and potion ladles materialized before him. Contained within spotless vessels were his darkest, most shameful emotions. Layers of protective spells cocooned him, isolating him from the outside world.
It wasn’t Amortentia. His long-hidden turmoil, his possessiveness, was nothing more than a bottle of bubblegum-pink liquid, cloyingly sweet and bitterly mocking.
Hinata’s image danced before him—Hinata’s smile, his figure soaring across the Quidditch pitch, his touch lingering on Kenma’s lips.
It wasn’t Amortentia. The one Hinata loved was...?
"Shoyo…" he murmured under his breath. Disoriented, visions spun before him as if reality itself had unraveled, leaving his thoughts tangled and frayed.
“…But exams are truly where Felix Felicis is most needed,” Asahi said, his voice pulling Kenma back into the present. Still fretting over his grades, he added, "I need to remind Hinata to save some of his stash for emergencies."
As the professor declared the end of class, the bustling classroom grew even more chaotic. A flash of bright orange entered Kenma’s field of vision. Hinata was weaving through the crowd toward him, his usual radiant grin lighting up his face, outshining even the midday sun.
“Hinata, what are you doing here?” Sugawara asked, his tone tinged with playful curiosity. “Next up is your favorite—Quidditch practice.”
“I came to find my boyfriend!” Hinata announced boldly, striding up to Kenma and casually taking his hand.
The classroom fell silent. Sugawara and Akaashi stared, mouths agape, at the two tightly clasped hands. Miya and Oikawa stopped mid-duel, their stunned gazes snapping toward the pair.
“Whoa… you two?” Sugawara’s eyes darted back and forth between them, his lips parting slightly as if searching for words.
“Treasure your youthful romance while you can, Hinata!” Asahi finally rolled up his completed lab report, admiring his work. “Once O.W.L.s start, not even Felix Felicis will save you.”
“But I’ve already used it!” Hinata tilted his head innocently, his response as casual as ever.
“What?! For what? How’d it go?” Miya pressed, his curiosity piqued.
Hinata tightened his grip on Kenma’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He turned to look into Kenma’s eyes, his own gaze brimming with affection and a hint of mischief. A bright, unfiltered smile spread across his face, pure and joyous.
“Awesome!”