Pov Mia
'Retribution, Mia? What are you, a Ministry decree?' I thought, the word still bouncing around in my head as I left the Great Hall.
I headed toward the Gryffindor common room. I gave the password and stepped through the portrait of the Fat Lady.
It didn't take me long to spot my friends, and I walked over with an air of indifference. Luckily, I'd told them to grab my Potions book since I had to write an essay, I had a whole week, but I was going to start today.
But the moment I sat down, I knew I was in trouble.
"So?" Megan asked bluntly, leaning her elbows on the table with absolute shamelessness. "Was it a… professional transaction?"
"Is the redemption real?" Aria added, with that mix of mockery and genuine curiosity she couldn't hide, even when she tried.
I got it. On the first day of classes when I handed him the schedules, we all thought he was still the same rebellious boy who would cost Gryffindor points like last year, or worse. But now he was earning points, inventing an enchanted quill that many had already bought, never late.
"Yes, all professional… And the redemption, you could say, is real," I replied as I calmly opened my Potions book.
"You could say?" Megan repeated, folding her arms. "That sounds like it wasn't so professional."
"He made me wait. Which obviously annoyed me. But he showed up. Like nothing had happened. And he apologized," I said.
"And?" Megan pressed. "Did he apologize with that face of I'm so charming everything will be forgiven?"
"More or less," I admitted. "He's not arrogant. Or vulgar. But he knows exactly what he's doing."
"That's worse," Florence snorted, amused. "Did he throw in some line like, This quill is for a girl as beautiful as you?"
"Not that sweet or cheesy. He said: Premium eagle quill. Extended durability. Color matches your eyes." I repeated it with his exact intonation, dropping my tone slightly at the end. A perfect imitation.
There was a brief silence. They were all staring at me.
"And then he only charged me ten galleons," I added, as if it were nothing. "Because he made me wait… and because I'm me: prefect, intimidating braids, and, I quote: 'pretty face.'"
"All that while looking straight into your eyes like he's known you for years?" Florence asked, laughing quietly.
"Disgustingly yes."
"And you accepted the discount?" Daphne asked.
"Yes. Why not? My time is valuable," I said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"That's not the worst," I added, knowing what was coming. "After that… I ended up inviting him out."
"WHAT?!" the three of them shouted in unison. Megan nearly choked on her pumpkin juice.
"An educational walk," I clarified, raising a hand as if to contain the fire. "Tomorrow, after classes. Through the west courtyard. Supposedly to give him advice on the OWLs"
"Educational, with Ryan Ollivander who looks at you like he wants to eat you alive even though you're a seventh year and a prefect," Daphne said. She didn't talk much, but when she did, her words never missed.
"I said it was about the OWLs," I repeated, as firmly as I could manage. But my cheeks betrayed me, and they knew me too well not to notice.
"You liked him," Aria said, with a wide, sly smile.
It wasn't a question, and I didn't deny it.
"He's charming," I admitted softly, lowering my gaze to the Potions book I no longer remembered opening. "Not in that arrogant or vulgar way… it's like he knows exactly what to say, but without overdoing it. And don't deny that his… appearance is good."
Silence. Quite eloquent, actually.
They all thought about it. Golden hair, meticulously messy just enough to look unintentional but not careless. Gray eyes, striking features, tall, with that carefree, slightly rebellious air.
But not dark, like some Slytherins. Nor a clown like the Prewett twins, or as boyish as Quidditch player James Potter. He had something… more tempered now. Inventor, merchant, even disciplined in some ways. And yet, he still carried that spark. Like chaos was ready to slip from his sleeve at any moment.
"Well, yeah," Megan murmured at last, "now that you put it that way… he's got something. I get it."
"Are you nervous about tomorrow?" Aria asked, her expression both sweet and teasing at the same time.
"No," I said right away. Automatic. Quick. Too quick.
A lie.
Of course I was.
I'd only had two conversations with him and he'd already managed to catch my interest and throw me off balance several times with his clever remarks.
"Of course not," I repeated, more firmly this time, hiding behind my age. "I'm a seventh year. He's a fifth year. Nothing to be nervous about."
"Want me to tell you a corridor where nobody ever passes and you can watch the sunset?" Aria asked mischievously. "You know, in case the academic talk gets a little… more illustrative."
I threw a cushion at her. She caught it, laughing.
"Seriously now," Daphne said, calmer, lowering her voice a little, "Just… don't take it too seriously. It's Ryan Ollivander, after all."
"I don't plan to," I answered honestly.
And it was true.
I wasn't looking for a romance or a happy ending. This year would be exhausting and demanding, my last year, full of internships, commitments, future decisions. I didn't want a boyfriend. Especially not one in fifth year who, by the time I left Hogwarts, would still have two years left.
I didn't want to get stuck in something that made no sense.
I just liked the way he looked at me.
And the way he made me feel, at least for a moment, like I could be more than the ever-efficient prefect.
General Point of View
The next day, classes ended at 4:30, and barely ten minutes later, Ryan was already there.
The west courtyard of Hogwarts, at that hour, was starting to glow gold in the afternoon light. The shadows of the arches stretched long across the cobblestones, and the September breeze carried a cool, almost autumnal air, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees.
Ryan sat beneath one of them, legs crossed, sunglasses perched on his nose. Around him, the atmosphere was quiet, as if this corner of the castle were set apart from the usual bustle. A perfect spot for someone who wasn't looking for attention or witnesses.
His head was tilted slightly back, gazing at the sky through the branches, his mind wandering into something he rarely thought about: a girl.
Yes, he had some interest in Emmeline, even in Pandora, but his advances there were slow, partly because of his demanding routine. After classes, he always went straight back to his own pursuits, studying from the system book, honing his martial magic, working on inventions, and so on.
But today, he allowed himself this small educational walk. At most, it would last an hour. And he was well aware something more could happen with Mia Macmillan.
And that, though he would never admit it aloud, made him a little nervous. After all, Mia was a seventh year, two years ahead of him, a prefect, meticulous and elegant, coming from an old pure-blood family. Luckily, not supremacists.
After a few minutes of waiting, he heard footsteps.
Mia walked as she always did: with that firm, graceful stride that made every step seem deliberate. Her robes fell perfectly into place, with a precision that spoke of both discipline and taste. Her braid was neatly draped over her left shoulder, just like the day before, but there was something new Ryan noticed right away.
Earrings.
Small, silver, discreet, but well chosen. She hadn't worn them yesterday. A minor detail, except it wasn't. Not for someone like her. And not for someone like him, who noticed everything.
She stopped in front of him, arms crossed with the poise of someone fully in control. Her light eyes swept over him for a second and then, without changing her tone, she said,
"Well. You're early today. Not like yesterday."
Ryan let a faint smile slip.
"Technically, I wasn't late yesterday," he said. "I told you I'd deliver the quill during dinner. Dinner runs from six to eight. I went at seven. You got there at six. Minor detail."
Mia looked at him as if weighing the response from a legal standpoint.
"A technicality," she conceded at last, with a touch of irony.
"The best arguments are built on technicalities," Ryan replied, raising one eyebrow ever so slightly.
She let out a small breath. Not quite a laugh. But not a complaint either.
Then, without commenting on the earrings, without mentioning how good they looked on her, because he knew she would expect that, and he wasn't about to give it so soon, Ryan brushed the almost nonexistent dust from his robes and looked at her.
"Alright. I'm ready. Instructive, educational walk about OWLs with a seventh-year prefect who's already survived the battle. Lead the way, Macmillan. Enlighten me."
Mia narrowed her eyes with an amused look. Without another word, she started walking.
The sun was sinking with a gentle warmth, painting Hogwarts' stone walls in golden and amber tones. Mia walked ahead with her steady pace, while Ryan followed half a step behind, hands in his pockets, expression serene.
They took a stone path skirting Greenhouse Three, passed beneath an ivy-covered arch, and then headed toward the outer west wing, a part of the castle less frequented at that hour.
The gardens were dotted with neatly trimmed shrubs, medium-sized trees, and stone benches laid out in symmetrical order. In the distance, the magical boundaries of the castle marked the edge of the grounds, though they weren't yet visible.
"OWLs aren't impossible, but they are treacherous. They don't test how much you know… but how much you can hold under pressure. That's why you should focus on what matters to you, the subjects you plan to pursue in sixth year. The rest… just pass them and move on," Mia finally said, without fully turning her head. Her tone was professional, but not cold.
Ryan nodded without sarcasm. His face showed he was genuinely listening.
"Transfiguration, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms. Those are the ones I care about most," Ryan said.
Mia turned her head slightly, intrigued by his tone. She liked what she saw. No irony. None of that usual teasing spark.
"Good. Make those your top priority. That's four OWLs. Usually, a student manages between five and seven. Start thinking about which others you want to take…" she nodded.
Ryan nodded back. What she said made sense.
"How many OWLs did you get?" Ryan asked, curious.
"Nine," Mia said, without a trace of boastfulness. Then she began to list them: Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ancient Runes, Astronomy, Arithmancy, Herbology, and Muggle Studies.
"Muggle Studies?" Ryan asked, slightly surprised.
"I thought it was important," she said, offering no further explanation.
They continued walking slowly, talking seriously about OWLs. Mia noticed Ryan was taking this "educational walk" very seriously. In fact, up to that moment, he hadn't made a single flirtatious remark like the ones from previous days. Not an ounce of that charming boldness.
Mia pressed her lips together slightly. A part of her had been waiting for a compliment, she had put on those earrings specifically for this occasion.
But nothing. Not a word. Was he deliberately ignoring her?
Or was he so focused on the conversation that he truly hadn't noticed?
She couldn't tell if it irritated her or left her wanting more. Probably both.
Just then, Ryan stopped walking.
"What?" Mia asked, tilting her chin just a little.
"I'm tired of hearing about exams and the misery awaiting me. There's a bench over there. Sit?"
She narrowed her eyes, as if weighing whether to accept or not. But at last, she nodded with a small huff and followed him.
The bench sat beneath a large willow tree, where sunlight barely filtered through the leaves. Silent, calm. The perfect place for… well, whatever this was.
They both sat down. Mia crossed her legs with precision, a faint crease on her brow. She couldn't quite hide her mild annoyance.
Ryan noticed. Of course he noticed, and he smiled to himself, deep down.
He stayed still for a moment. Then he leaned in a little. Naturally, without forcing anything. Just closing the space. To a distance just outside the limits of those unspoken rules.
"By the way," he said softly, his tone not sweet… but dangerously smooth, "the earrings suit you."
Mia turned her head to look at him. And that's when she realized.
He'd taken off his sunglasses. And his eyes were fixed directly on her.
And for one brief instant, Mia fell utterly silent.
A seventh-year prefect. Holder of nine OWLs. Daughter of a family with impeccable lineage. Known for her poise, her discipline, her unshakable composure.
And still, her heart skipped.
She didn't allow herself to lean back, not even an inch. But she did lower her gaze for just a moment, just enough to mask the faint heat rising in her cheeks.
"Oh, really?" she replied, finding her voice quicker than she expected. "I thought you hadn't even noticed them."
Ryan smiled, tilting his head slightly.
"I noticed the moment you arrived," he said. "But I wanted to see how long it would take before you got frustrated by my silence. Seems I was right."
Mia frowned lightly, though there was something different in her eyes. A spark caught between irritation and play.
'This charming bastard…' she thought.
She didn't know if she was angry or fascinated.
And then Ryan leaned closer.
Not clumsily. Not urgently. As if he knew exactly how far to go without crossing the line.
He raised a hand and, very slowly, touched one of the earrings.
His fingers didn't brush her cheek, but the closeness was overwhelming.
Mia swallowed. Her back stayed straight, her arms still crossed. But she didn't push him away.
Ryan's eyes drifted from the earring… to hers. Mia held his gaze. Nervous, yes. But with the discipline of a prefect who doesn't back down. Even as her stomach twisted with something she had no name for.
She tried to keep her eyes steady, firm. But the heat was real. He was too close. His breathing, calm and steady, brushed against hers like a touch.
And then, with deliberate calm, Ryan's eyes lowered.
To her lips.
She noticed. Felt it like an electric hum under her skin. A step that shattered every tacit rule.
And yet…
Her own eyes, almost of their own accord, lowered too. To his lips.
It was subtle. Barely a second. But it was enough.
A signal.
Ryan read her without hesitation. He leaned forward, slowly.
Mia didn't move. Her body was tense, expectant.
Ryan's lips were a breath away.
And then, just when the contact seemed inevitable, Mia raised a hand and stopped him gently. Her fingers brushed his mouth, a touch both firm and trembling.
"We can't," she whispered, her voice caught somewhere between command and plea, the kind of tone only someone like her could pull off. "We're in a public place."
'Oh… so if it wasn't public, then yes?' Ryan thought. He didn't take offense. Didn't frown. He only smiled, calm in a way that made it seem like nothing could rattle him, maybe because of his ego, or all the money he'd made. Probably both.
He turned his head slightly. Looked around, as if actually considering her objection.
"There's no one," he murmured. "Not a soul. And I doubt any professor bothers to patrol the west courtyard before dinner."
Mia's heart was pounding as if she'd just sprinted up seven flights of stairs, but she allowed herself to glance around.
And it was true. No one. Just the distant whisper of wind in the trees, the bench in shadow, the damp grass. They were alone.
Ryan didn't push. He only looked at her and waited.
Mia met his eyes. Then she slowly lowered the hand still resting against his mouth.
And nodded.
This time, when Ryan leaned in, he was quicker.
Their lips met. Firm. Still at first. Then softer.
Mia closed her eyes and returned the kiss, growing surer, with more intensity.
'Just a few seconds,' Mia thought. It had to be quick, eyes shut, someone could walk in at any moment.
And yet, the seconds kept slipping by. And Mia didn't stop. In fact, she deepened it, turning it into a kiss with tongue.
'Whoa, prefect!' Ryan thought, both surprised and amused as he felt Mia's tongue.
He'd assumed the kiss would last only a few seconds, nothing extraordinary.
But it dragged on, growing into a French kiss.
He didn't hold back. His hand slid down to her waist, then further, brushing her thigh. Mia didn't stop him.
At last, after long minutes, they broke apart. Their eyes stayed locked even as their lips pulled away.
Mia's cheeks were flushed, her breathing only slightly uneven, but she didn't look away. She didn't retreat. She held his gaze.
Then, almost reflexively, she glanced around. A prefect's paranoia. Her eyes swept the hedges, the wall's corners, the distant corridors.
Nothing.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips. Too long. 'That definitely lasted too long,' Mia thought.
She turned back to Ryan. He was still there, wearing that same blend of arrogance and nonchalance that managed to irritate her.
He tilted his head, as if calculating something, and finally said,
"Well… that was educational."
Mia narrowed her eyes, brow furrowing—but her expression was more embarrassed than angry.
Ryan, of course, didn't stop.
"I wasn't expecting Prefect Macmillan to include tongue in her lesson plan," he added with a grin.
She shot him a withering look, cheeks still flushed, clearly weighing whether to jab him with her elbow or turn and walk away with dignity.
But he laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"I'm not complaining. That was great. Honestly, I'm already looking forward to the next educational walk… if it comes with a similar final evaluation."
Mia looked at him, arms crossed, satisfied that he'd labeled it as great rather than mocking her further.
"Maybe…"
After a moment, she lowered her gaze slightly and said more seriously,
"But I don't want there to be any confusion, Ryan. This, today… doesn't mean I want something serious."
He blinked, a little surprised by the shift in tone. He studied her more closely. She said it because she meant it.
"Me… tying down Mia Macmillan, seventh-year prefect, into a serious relationship? Wouldn't even cross my mind."
She raised an eyebrow, still waiting.
"I mean it," Ryan said firmly. "I get it. And I respect it. Actually, for me, that's even better."
Now it was her turn to be intrigued.
"I've got too much on my plate," he explained. "Classes, OWLs, homework, and I've got to keep making the quills. Crafting objects is hard enough when you're juggling all that. Adding a girlfriend to the equation? That's a hard no."
Mia looked at him. And for the first time, she smiled in approval, as if his answer struck her as sensible, even mature.
"Then," she said, adjusting her robes and calmly re-braiding a loose strand of hair, "no confusion. No commitments. But the freedom to repeat, if both sides want it."
"Confirmed," Ryan replied in an official tone, as if signing a business contract. "Educational walks without sentimental clauses."
This time, they both smiled.