Chapter Text
Whoosh!
A ball of red-light splattered against a pillar next to Claude’s head, close enough to singe hairs as he scrambled down the hallway.
“C’mon Hubert, it was just a little accident!” He called out, hitting top speeds of: if Hubert catches him, he’s dead. A new personal best, really. But Claude had always been a multitasker; plans and escape routes were being created, refined, and rejected by the dozen with every fleet-footed step as he raced across Hogwarts’ weathered stone floors.
“You’ve pestered Lady Edelgard for the last time, nettlesome scoundrel!”
They came across a familiar looking hallway, and Claude thanked all the gods he could think of for his luck turned around. The Room of Requirement had never failed to provide him with an adequate hiding spot before. The best part: Hubert couldn’t touch him once inside, no matter how much magic he threw at its entrance. Claude pressed his body up against the fancy iron grates that outlined the door and pushed his way in as he listened to Hubert’s enraged bellowing behind him, “No! You can’t hide in the Room of Requirement forever, Claude!”
But the door had already melded shut behind him, with Claude snickering at his own cleverness. And yet, that had been much too close a call for Claude’s liking. If he had been a hair slower, a touch less scrappy, he’d likely be bruised and bloodied, staring down the business end of Hubert’s black walnut wand. He hadn’t even truly meant to embarrass Her Royal Highness this time around, but Hubert’s code of honor did not allow for excuses, and Claude knew better than to try. He knew a scoundrel was all they saw him as, an outsider in the magic world that was too charming, too cunning, too crafty to be trusted.
He checked the time on his smartwatch, a nifty muggle invention he was honestly bewildered as to why it hadn’t caught on in popularity in the wizarding world yet, and marked one hour before his next class. That should be enough time for Hubert to give up the waiting game and go back to “his Lady” before the next bell. Claude took a gander at what the Room of Requirement had conjured up for him this time: towers upon towers of antiques and knickknacks surrounded him on every side. It was less a Room and more of a Maze, and uniquely different than every other time he had entered the space. Plenty of suitable hiding places, even though no one had ever been fast enough to catch him while inside. And once that door closed, there was no way in unless Claude wished it.
With time to kill and an inquisitive mind, Claude set about exploring the maze the Room had so generously created for him. It was mostly old furniture and antiquated gadgets, but occasionally he’d stumble upon a diamond in the rough, or some convenience that he couldn’t buy down in Hogsmeade. On one tower he found an armoire filled with all sorts of modern clothes inside. Interesting, but not something he needed. He rarely wore anything outside of his Slytherin House robes, and if he were to dress casually, his trunk was already full of options.
Another tower hid a pack of his favorite brand of ball point pens. Score! He’d brought his own this year, but they’d mysteriously gone missing after he’d accidentally poisoned half his dormitory with an experimental potion for stomach ailments. He’d also been unable to find his hairbrush, the book of poetry he’d brought to read, or a beaded bracelet he’d brought with him from Almyra.
He tried not to think on it.
Thirty more minutes of scavenging and he’d also found a small, yellow rubber duck in an empty bathtub, unassuming and chipping paint on the beak. Ah, the comforts of home. He stuck that one in his robes’ pocket; he was sure he’d find a practical use for it later.
Eventually, Claude’s attention span started to wane. The towers became more redundant than interesting, so he decided to climb to the top of a particularly sturdy-looking stack and get a birds’ eye view of just how big this Room was. The pile of furniture he chose was mostly chairs and bookshelves, and he began his careful ascent to its peak. One foothold at a time and a few broken chair legs later, he’d made it to the apex of the tower and took a proud seat, the topmost chair now his throne.
Self-proclaimed King of the Room.
He took a moment to appreciate the view, (because wow, this Room was vast), when something bright poked at his peripheral vision, about 10 antique mountains east of where he sat.
Soft blue-green lights undulated in the air, and if he hadn’t known better, he would think it was an aurora borealis that the Room created to have a bit of fun with him. Closer inspection revealed that the lights weren’t constant and seemed to originate from somewhere on the ground. Was it another muggle gadget he’d missed? Is it the Room of Requirement’s power?
Another thought, more panicked: Did someone follow him in?
He’d never been in the Room with another person before; normally if someone was already inside, he wouldn’t have been able to enter, and he would’ve been forced to find another place to hide out Hubert’s wrath. Curiosity got the best of him, as it always did, and he found himself climbing down from his perch, drawn towards the lights.
As he ventured closer, a low static hum reached his ears, accompanied by soft piano notes and hard drumbeats that played over hypnotic synth waves. He slowed his steps, quiet as a house elf, and peeked around the last wall of furniture standing between himself and the source of the lights. It was….
A Dancer?
Her teal blue hair had a healthy shine to it with every graceful spin, and her intricate black dress was a stark contrast to her cream-colored skin. Wait, no, it wasn’t a dress. Black leggings and a black tank top were layered with silk sashes, draped over her figure in a way that they flowed with each movement but didn’t hinder her in any way. At first it looked like she was practicing a ballet routine, but then she would move in a way that was unfamiliar, her footwork more modern. Interpretive, yet structured. A style all her own, and she did it with a wand in her hand. Her ash-grey wand was the source of the mini aurora he’d seen, and the colors wove around her in ribbons before floating upwards and outwards around her in different shapes and paths. Her magic glided past his head and he reached out to touch it; it tickled against his hand and dissipated in wisps, like smoke. He turned back to her, mesmerized.
Her eyes were closed, and her face looked so peaceful Claude knew there was no way she was currently functioning on the same plane as himself and mere mortals like him. No, she was off in the cosmos, dancing with comets and twinkling with the stars.
At the chorus of the song that Claude had been largely ignoring thus far in favor of admiring the celestial vision that the Room of Requirement had blessed him with, the Dancer opened her mouth and began to sing.
As the hours pass, I will let you know
That I need to ask, before I’m alone
How it feels to rest on your patient lips
To eternal bliss, I’m so glad to know
Her steady cadence and lower pitch was calming, melodic, refreshing; Claude wanted to listen to it all day and then let it lull him to sleep at lights out, but in his trance he leaned a bit too heavily on the leg of the wizened table he’d been hiding behind. The jig was up, and as the entire table came down from the tower in a large crash, it occurred to him that he might have just intruded on something private; that maybe there was a reason he had found her all alone.
Both the music and her dancing came to a halt, and she pointed her wand at Claude’s head, completely stoic, all traces of her earlier Zen gone from her person. He recognized her now. Those cornflower blue eyes were familiar in their piercing stare.
Byleth Eisner. Transfer Student. Gryffindor’s golden child and daughter of Jeralt the Wand Breaker, the wizarding world’s most legendary Auror. She was also President of the Dueling Club, and Headmistress Rhea’s ‘chosen one’. Whatever that meant.
And she’d just caught him spying on her.
He immediately threw his hands up in surrender, how many times would he find himself in trouble today?
“Woah there, don’t shoot,” he laughed nervously.
Miraculously, she lowered her wand, and Claude sighed in relief. “How did you get in here? I watched the door seal when I came in.”
“I could ask the same of you.” She tilted her head, unreadable. Claude tried a different tactic.
“Your dancing is… ” He searched for a word accurate enough to describe the wide range of emotions he felt just watching her and came up short, “beautiful.”
She took a step back and turned away, her cheeks so faintly red as to be imperceptible, but Claude was too busy wracking his brain for ways to placate the wild creature in front of him, whom he was clearly scaring away.
“Wait, I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m-“
“Claude.”
“-Claude Riegan. What?” He had reached out a hand in greeting, and promptly froze. “You know me?”
“We’re in the same potions class. Third period.” She was making eye contact again, and obviously not about to flee like he’d thought. A good start, even if her stare was a little unnerving.
“Right. I knew that, I just didn’t know you knew that.” He scratched his chin in thought, “I try to keep my head down, and the Houses don’t intermingle very much, sadly.”
She blinked, owlish. “You ace every test and challenge that Professor Hanneman throws at us. I’ve seen you work; you barely even glance at the brewing instructions.”
That startled him. He didn’t think someone like Byleth, popular, intelligent, special, had even noticed his existence. She was always surrounded by Hogwarts’ elite; Dimitri, Edelgard, Petra, Lorenz. He’d meant what he said about the houses not intermingling, but there was something about Byleth that seemed to draw everyone in, regardless of faction. After witnessing the display of her magic earlier, he was beginning to understand why.
Something unknown lit up her eyes. “That, and you can’t seem to go one class without teasing Lysithea.”
That made him chuckle. In their last lab session, Lysithea had stood on her tiptoes at her station behind Claude’s in an attempt to copy his every action and, consequently, his success. Despite her efforts, her calming draught ended up a sickly green rather than the tranquil blue it required. Needless to say, Lysithea was the opposite of calm that day. Claude had only made things worse, offering a stepstool when he’d realized he’d had a little bird watching over his shoulder. He couldn’t help himself, no matter how guilty he felt at her anger.
“Taken an interest in me, have you? I’m flattered, really.” A little uncomfortable, but flattered. Claude had taken steps to keep his head down when he realized that his classmates, even his own housemates, didn’t take very kindly to outsiders. Case in point: Hubert’s enmity and Lorenz’ loathsome attitude. So far, Hilda had been the only student he’d formed some sort of rapport with, and she didn’t even want to be in Slytherin. She often complained that too much was expected of her, the dorms were too dimly lit (“delicate flowers do not sleep in dungeons!”), and that the house colors clashed with her hair.
Sometimes Claude wondered if he’d would have had an easier time in Ravenclaw.
“My aptitude for potions comes from… extracurricular knowledge,” he continued. After all, potions and antitoxins didn’t have that much of a difference. Some ingredients were new, to be sure, but it was all just basic chemistry. Claude had been exposed to poison early on in life, and as such had good reason to be interested in creating antidotes.
“But what about you, Dueling Club Prez?” It was time the get the focus off himself. He’d noticed her too, after all. “Did you come here to escape from all your adoring fans?” As hard as he tried to sound aloof, he couldn’t keep the bitter twinge from his words.
Again, she only stared. “Fans?”
Either she was ignorant of her fame among the students, or she was playing coy. Her expression gave nothing away, but past experience painted a picture of his classmate as someone who dealt in blunt truths. She didn’t seem to have a humorous bone in her body, and yet, she would have to be blind to not notice her own near-celebrity status.
“All the people you’re constantly surrounded with, I swear you’re swarmed by friends the moment every bell rings. So much so that I hear you were voted in President of the Dueling club with no opposition. In your first year as a transfer student, no less. No small feat, wouldn’t you say?” He smiled, all teeth.
“I don’t think anyone is looking for me.” She said carefully, as if she hadn’t considered it and was sounding out her own thoughts.
How could no one notice her absence? How often was she escaping to the Room of Requirement? And what of Dimitri, or Edelgard? Claude was starting to think his initial evaluation was correct, and she was just dense. “What about your friends? Your housemates? Surely someone is looking for you right about now.” He asked dubiously.
She shook her head slowly. “I’m… kept at arm’s length. By most people. I wouldn’t say I’m close to any of my housemates, really.” She tilted her head at him, but her eyes were faraway, considering a memory. “As for my title as President, I wouldn’t consider that a feat at all. I had no hand in it; it’s not something I worked for.” She spoke with the same even tone, yet something in Claude’s gut told him she wasn’t satisfied with her own answer. She sounded… disappointed.
He could understand what she meant by not being close to anyone. As someone with a… notably high status back home, he knew what it was like to be put on a pedestal, people being too intimidated to see past the titles. That was one thing they had in common. But he’s pegged her as the ambitious type, surrounded by the elite, holding titles of her own. Had he gotten it wrong?
“Did you – not want to be President?”
Again, she shook her head.
“Then, how did you get the title?”
“I was nominated.” She finally turned her wide, soul-seeking gaze towards the ground, and Claude let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “After that, the election moved pretty quickly, and I ended up running unopposed. But everyone seemed so excited about it, so -- I…“She trailed off, obviously not knowing how to end the sentence, but Claude didn’t need her to. Peer pressure was a powerful force.
They were both transfer students. They both had unconventional childhoods; Claude’s upbringing as a muggle in Almyra’s upper echelon and Byleth’s life on the road with the greatest Auror of their time. Neither of them were close to any of their classmates. They’d both snuck off to the Room of Requirement to hide away.
She was an outsider.
Just like him.
“We should get back.” Byleth prompted, stirring Claude from his musings.
“Right,” he checked his watch, “I guess my hour is almost up, the next period will start soon.”
Byleth seemed to perk up at that, her eyes quickly flitting from his wrist to his eyes. “Is that a mini computer?”
Claude held back a grin, holding out his wrist for her inspection. “It’s called a smartwatch. We can’t all rely on sundials and hefty pocket watches.” He teased, but tensed up when she reached out to fiddle with the buttons, lightly grabbing his wrist in the process.
“I’ve seen them before, but my father isn’t a huge fan of muggle technology. They seem so convenient.” She’d completely focused on the starry sky background, the clockface slowly ticking over the shiny screen, the soft leather strap. Claude’s neck burned at her closeness.
“Heh, pretty handy, right?” He choked out, kicking himself on the inside for losing his cool at something so small. In her movements, he notices a golden chain around her neck, dainty and small. If the light hadn’t hit it just right, he wouldn’t have noticed. A hidden necklace? His eyes followed the glint of the chain in curiosity until his gaze met the top of her tank top and he ripped his gaze away from her chest. Gods forbid he be known as a pervert and a crafty schemer.
“So,” he cleared his throat, “shall I walk the lady out?” he swept a hand towards the exit, mockingly playing the part of a well-mannered prince.
Byleth gave a short nod and walked over to a weathered cabinet to pull out her mini backpack and school robes.
“Accio record.”
A vinyl disk flies from a nearby record player to her hand with practiced ease, and she somehow stuffed it into her pack, defying all laws of physics in an impossible fashion than can only be explained by magic. Claude swore to look up a ‘bigger on the inside’ spell as soon as he could hit the library. Maybe something in the Restricted Section…
He started walking in the direction he’d come in with Byleth close behind. His fingers twitch at the silence, he has so many questions, but they all seem too personal to just ask out of the blue. How did she learn to dance like that? Why is she always surrounded by people she doesn’t even consider friends?
Why did their Headmistress have such an interest in her?
The closer they got to the door, the more Claude felt he was missing a chance at something. Like the Universe’s biggest mystery has been dropped right in front of him to solve, and he was pushing it off for the sake of some silly Charms class.
He ran an anxious hand through this hair. No, he wouldn’t overwhelm her with questions now. They were acquainted, which meant he could approach her outside and befriend her at his leisure, build up a professional relationship before he pried into her business.
That is the most gentlemanly way to go about his curiosity, said his conscience.
His conscience specifically did not remind him that relationships are a two-way street, and he wasn’t ready to share that kind of personal information with a stranger.
Nope, he locked that in a vault and threw it in the comfiest corner of his brain. Compartmentalizing was Claude’s specialty.
They made it to where the door had originally been placed, only to find homogenous stone wall.
“I swear it was right here.” He touched the wall in disbelief, like the door would magically (haha) reappear.
“No, you’re right.” She agreed, shaking her head. “This is where I came in, too. Although this is the first time the Room has ever held me hostage.” Byleth stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the Room to reveal its intentions.
It did not.
“Okay Room, buddy, pal, this is all very funny, but can you please let us out now?” Claude shouted into the ceiling, wondering, not for the first time, if the Room of Requirement was truly sentient. “If I’m late to Charms one more time, Professor Seteth is going to have me rounding up pixies for the Potions class.”
Which was not nearly as fun as it sounded. Pixies were annoying, loud, and they really liked pulling hair. Claude was very fond of his hair staying attached to his scalp.
“I don’t think the Room plans on letting us out yet. We may have to wait for a teacher to come get us.” Byleth turned back to Claude with the tiniest of wrinkles between her brows.
He sighed.
“I wonder what’s wrong with it. Could someone have hexed the Room of Requirement? I’m no expert, but I imagine that would be pretty hard to – what are you doing?”
Byleth reached into her mini backpack, pulling out two comically-oversized pillows, and tossed them at the ground before plopping onto one of them herself. Comfortably seated, she pulled out two granola bars, a party-sized bag of crisps, and some apples.
“It seems like we might be in here awhile. Might as well get comfortable.” She bit into an apple, and Claude looked at her spread with impressed eyes. The speed and ease with which she made herself at home was… efficient, to say the least.
It was tempting, but Claude didn’t like to accept food from strangers. Nothing to do with poison, surprisingly. He’d forged himself an iron stomach after the first incident, and refused to fall victim to it ever again. (That, and he’d found a potion for sterilizing food in the library, so now he was doubly covered.) Claude just never liked to be in the debt of others. It made him itchy, knowing someone might try to collect a favor at any time. He tried to avoid it when he could.
“I don’t think I should—” Claude’s stomach chose that inopportune moment to growl the loudest he’d ever heard it, like a RedCap goblin loose in the Room. He felt his ears burn, and he crossed his arms over his stomach like he could hide it from Byleth’s all-knowing gaze.
But when he turned to look at her, she held a granola bar in her outstretched hand, and watched him with a sparkle in her eyes.
He waffled with his pride for a moment, but couldn’t win out over his rumbling stomach or a kind gesture. He hadn’t seen one in awhile.
He took her offering and sat on the other pillow. “Thanks,” he mumbled, tearing open the wrapper and eyeing her convenient magic pack.
Curiosity took over again. “What else is in that bag of yours? Home theater System? Extensive record collection? Pet cat?” He continued, curiosity growing with every guess. “More bags?”
She silently opened her bag, reaching around and obviously shuffling through quite a few items before slowly, suspensefully, dragging out…
A two-pack of Double-Stuf Oreos.
“More snacks.” She nodded, matter of fact.
Claude took a bite of his granola bar, shoulders shaking as he suppressed a laugh, but unable to hold back his grin.
Maybe, this would be fun.