The rest of the day's lessons had gone without much incident, although he did not pay attention to any of his lessons, instead, his mind kept drifting to Andromeda. He had decided he would write her a letter explaining his situation and hope for the best, so he did just that during a rather boring History of Magic lesson, where Professor Finns has sent half the class to sleep.
Dear Aunt Andromeda,
I know that receiving a letter from me is probably quite a surprise, and I can't imagine this is something you ever expected. But I hope that you will at least read this letter before deciding what to do with it. My name is Izar Lestrange, and though we've never met, I'm your nephew, Bellatrix's son. And I'm reaching out to you because I need your help.
I know our family history is far from pleasant, and I wouldn't blame you if you wanted nothing to do with me. I'm sure you've got some expectations of what I am like. I imagine it would be easy for you to see me as just another extension of that same pureblood family legacy that you left behind. But I'm writing to you because I think you might understand what I'm going through better than anyone else. And I don't know where else to turn.
I've made some choices recently, choices that have put me on the verge of being disowned by both the Malfoys and the Lestranges. I never thought I would say this, but I can see now that it's probably inevitable. I've chosen a path that defies everything they stand for. I came out as gay, openly, and apparently that has brought shame upon the family name. But it's not just that. I've also started associating with people they would consider beneath us, Muggleborns, half-bloods, people they've spent their whole lives teaching me to despise. I couldn't continue living the way they wanted me to, pretending that their hatred and bigotry were right. So I stopped pretending.
And now, everything is falling apart. I'm pretty sure I'll be disowned soon, cast out just like you were. And while I've accepted that, the truth is, I don't know what comes next. The only life I've ever known is the one defined by my family, their rules, and their expectations. I don't know what it means to live without them, to stand on my own without the weight of the Lestrange and Malfoy names hanging over me. That's why I'm writing to you.
You walked this path long before I did. You chose to turn your back on the family's beliefs, and you found a way to live outside of that toxic environment. I don't know how you did it, but I admire your courage for it. And I guess, in a way, I'm hoping you might be able to help me find that same strength.
I'm not asking for anything material. I'm not asking for a place to stay or any kind of rescue. But if you have any advice, any guidance on how to navigate what comes after being disowned, I would appreciate it more than you know. How do you start over when everything you've known is taken away? How do you move forward when the people who were supposed to be your family turn their backs on you?
If you choose not to respond, I will understand. I know I'm asking a lot, and there's no reason for you to take me under your wing after everything our family has done to you. But if you do respond, it would mean more to me than I can express. I'm trying to find my way, and I don't want to become what they want me to be.
Thank you for reading this far. I didn't know if I'd ever write this letter, but now that I have, I realise it was something I needed to do.
Sincerely,
Izar
He stared at the letter for a long moment, his quill trembling slightly in his hand. He had written the words he wanted to say, but seeing them there on parchment made everything feel more real. The possibility of being disowned, of losing everything, was no longer just a distant threat, it was looming over him. And reaching out to Andromeda, someone who had been cut off from the family long before he was born, felt like both a last resort and a faint glimmer of hope.
As he read over the letter again, he found himself imagining what Andromeda was like. He had only heard whispers about her in hushed tones during family gatherings, the occasional insult or bitter remark thrown by his mother or other relatives. She was the black sheep, the one who had defied the family's beliefs and walked away, just as he was now trying to do.
When the History of Magic lesson ended, and the rest of the class roused themselves from the sleepy stupor Professor Binns' had induced, Izar carefully folded the letter, slipped it into an envelope, and sealed it. His heart raced as he stood, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to him. He tucked the letter into his bag and made his way out of the class room and down the hallway.
"Hey" came a voice from beside him, Izar's heart skipped a beat as Oliver appeared beside him, that familiar, easy smile spreading across his face. For a moment, the anxiety of the letter and the weight of everything else faded, replaced by the warmth that always seemed to follow Oliver's presence.
"Hey," Izar said, a bit breathless from the surprise, but quickly recovering. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Oliver chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. "Well, I had a free period, and I figured I'd find you before tonights meeting. Plus, I wanted to make sure you weren't drifting off like the rest of the class during Binns' lecture." He nudged Izar playfully, his smile turning teasing.
Izar smirked, a slight flush rising in his cheeks. "No, didn't fall off today, I was... thinking," he said, which wasn't entirely a lie. His mind had been on Andromeda and everything that might follow once the letter reached her.
Oliver raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing Izar's distant tone. "Thinking, huh? You've been doing a lot of that lately." His tone was light, but the concern in his eyes was evident. "What's going on?"
Izar hesitated for a moment, his hand instinctively brushing against the bag where the letter was tucked away. He hadn't told Oliver about the letter from Lucius threatening to disown him. He wasn't sure how to bring it up, not because he didn't trust Oliver, but because saying it out loud would make everything feel even more real.
"I... I wrote a letter," Izar said finally, his voice quieter than he intended. He glanced at Oliver, gauging his reaction.
"A letter?" Oliver tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "To who?"
Izar swallowed, unsure of how to explain. "To... my aunt. Andromeda Tonks. She was disowned by the family years ago, for marrying a Muggle-born. I thought... maybe she could help me."
Oliver's eyes widened in understanding, and his expression softened. He stepped a little closer, his voice quieter but steady. "You're reaching out to her because of what's happening with your family, aren't you? With Draco and his Dad?"
Izar nodded, his heart pounding. "Yeah. Things are... bad. Worse than I thought they'd get. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be disowned soon, I've been given a warning. But I'm not backing down. I just don't know what happens next."
For a moment, Oliver didn't say anything. He simply looked at Izar, his gaze full of warmth and something deeper, understanding, maybe even admiration. Then, without a word, Oliver reached out and took Izar's hand, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze.
"You're not alone, you know," Oliver said softly, his voice steady and full of quiet strength. "No matter what happens with your family, you've got people who care about you. You've got me."
Izar felt a lump form in his throat, the weight of everything he had been holding inside threatening to spill over. He squeezed Oliver's hand back, grateful for the support, for the constant presence Oliver had become in his life.
"I know," Izar said, his voice thick with emotion. "And that's the one thing keeping me going."
They walked together in comfortable silence for a few moments, the tension between them easing as the noise of the bustling hallway faded into the background. Oliver stayed close, his hand warm and grounding in Izar's.
After a few moments, Oliver broke the silence. "Where are you headed now?"
"The Owlery," Izar said, glancing at his bag where the letter still rested. "I need to send the letter before I lose my nerve."
Oliver smiled. "Mind if I come with you?"
Izar shook his head, feeling a sense of relief. "Not at all."
The walk to the Owlery was peaceful, the echo of their footsteps filling the stone corridors as they moved through the castle together. The soft murmur of distant conversations, the occasional laughter from groups of students, and the muted clatter of activity surrounded them, but for Izar, it all felt distant, like a backdrop to the more intimate world he shared with Oliver in this moment.
Oliver kept his hand in Izar's as they walked, their fingers laced together. Something that made Izar feel excited but also filled him with anxiety, the two of them had always had displays of affection privately, where no one else was around to see. Now, walking hand in hand, they were together for the whole school to see.
"You're quieter than usual," Oliver said after a moment, glancing at Izar with a gentle smile. "Nervous about sending the letter?"
Izar gave a small shrug, though his mind was racing. "Yeah, I guess. It's just... I don't know what to expect. What if she doesn't respond? Or worse, what if she doesn't want anything to do with me?"
Oliver squeezed his hand gently. "You're taking a chance, and that's already brave. Even if she doesn't respond, at least you tried. But I think she will. You're reaching out to her about something that connects you both. She'll understand."
Izar looked over at Oliver, grateful for his unwavering support. "I hope you're right."
As they ascended the stairs leading to the Owlery, the scent of fresh air grew stronger, mixed with the smell of hay and the faint musky odour of owl feathers. The castle walls gave way to open windows that let in a crisp autumn breeze, causing Oliver to pull his cloak a little tighter around him. Izar did the same, though the chill in the air didn't bother him as much as it usually would—he was too focused on the letter in his bag, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.
When they reached the Owlery, the large, circular room was filled with the soft rustling of feathers. Owls perched in their nests, some already dozing while others stretched their wings or preened themselves. The open windows allowed a sweeping view of the Hogwarts grounds, where the trees had turned golden and red, their leaves scattered by the wind.
Izar hesitated for a moment at the threshold, feeling the weight of his decision pressing on him again. But Oliver was there, his hand still in Izar's, a reassuring presence that gave him the strength to move forward.
"This is it," Izar muttered, more to himself than to Oliver, as he pulled the letter from his bag.
Oliver smiled softly. "Want me to pick an owl for you?"
Izar chuckled, the tension easing slightly. "Yeah go ahead, any of the school owls will do."
Oliver stepped forward, scanning the room, before motioning to a sleek, dark barn owl perched nearby. It was alert, its golden eyes watching them intently. "That one looks reliable," Oliver said with a grin.
Izar nodded, walking over to the owl. He attached the letter carefully to its leg, his heart pounding in his chest as he did. "Take this to Andromeda Tonks," he whispered to the bird, his voice a little shaky.
The owl gave a soft hoot before spreading its wings and taking flight, soaring out of the Owlery window and into the open sky. Izar watched as it flew higher, becoming smaller and smaller until it was just a distant speck on the horizon.
He stood there for a few moments, the weight of what he had just done settling over him. It felt like a part of him had been sent out with that owl, a part that was now in Andromeda's hands, waiting for her response—or lack thereof.
"You did it," Oliver said softly, stepping up beside Izar.
"Yeah," Izar replied, his voice quiet. "I did."
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the sky as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the grounds. The world seemed so vast and uncertain, but with Oliver beside him, the future didn't feel quite so overwhelming.
"Whatever happens," Oliver said, his voice steady, "you're not alone. Remember that."
Izar turned to look at him, and for the first time all day, he allowed himself to smile—a real, genuine smile. "Thanks, Oliver. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Oliver's grin widened, and he leaned in just enough to brush his lips softly against Izar's in a brief, tender kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm, full of that quiet reassurance Izar had come to depend on.
"You won't have to find out," Oliver said, his voice low but sure.
The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the Owlery windows, casting a warm glow over the room as Izar and Oliver stood side by side, watching the owl disappear into the distance. There was a sense of calm between them, a quiet understanding that had been growing ever since their stolen moments by the lake.
Izar's heart, which had been heavy with the weight of his decision to send the letter, felt lighter now. But even in the stillness of the moment, he could sense a quiet anticipation in the air, as though something else lingered between them, waiting to be spoken.
Oliver shifted slightly beside him, glancing at Izar with a thoughtful expression. His usual playful demeanour was still there, but there was something more serious in his eyes, something that made Izar's pulse quicken.
"Hey," Oliver said softly, breaking the silence. "Before we head back down, I've been thinking about something."
Izar turned to face him, curiosity sparking in his chest. "What is it?"
Oliver hesitated for a moment, his fingers gently brushing against Izar's before he took a deep breath. "Look, I know things are... complicated for you right now. With everything happening with your family, and this whole…situation. I know you're dealing with a lot."
Izar nodded, his throat tightening slightly. He knew Oliver understood, perhaps better than anyone else, just how much pressure he was under. But the fact that Oliver was still here, by his side, made all the difference.
"But," Oliver continued, his voice growing steadier, "through all of it, I've realised something. I don't want to keep sneaking around and pretending like what we have isn't real. You make me happier than I've been in... well, a long time. And I don't care what other people think."
Izar's heart skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his throat. He could sense where this was going, but hearing Oliver say the words out loud made it all feel more real, more tangible.
Oliver took a step closer, his eyes searching Izar's with a tenderness that made Izar's chest tighten in the best way possible. "Izar, I want us to be official. I want you to be my boyfriend, not just in secret, not just in those moments when we're alone in the lake, or hidden in an alcove. I want it to be real, all the time. For everyone to see."
For a moment, Izar couldn't speak. His emotions swirled inside him, relief, happiness, and something deeper that he hadn't allowed himself to fully feel until now. Oliver had been there for him since they first met and had been a steady presence in the chaos of his life since, but hearing him ask for more, ask for something real and open, made Izar realise just how much he had been craving this, too.
"Oliver," Izar whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He reached out, his hand finding Oliver's, their fingers interlacing easily, as though they were always meant to fit together this way. "I... I want that too. More than anything."
Oliver's smile was soft, almost shy, as he pulled Izar closer, his forehead resting gently against Izar's. "You sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because I'm all in, Izar. I'm not going anywhere."
Izar's chest swelled with emotion as he nodded, his heart pounding in a way that made him feel both nervous and excited all at once. "I'm sure," he said, his voice steady despite the rush of feelings inside him. "I want this, Oliver. I want us."
Without another word, Oliver leaned in and kissed him, a slow, tender kiss that felt like a promise, like something solid and real that they could hold on to. Izar's heart soared, his fears momentarily forgotten as he lost himself in the warmth of Oliver's touch, in the certainty of what they were building together.
He wrapped his arms around Olivers neck and pulled the other boy closer, deepening their kiss as the two became lost in total bliss.
When they finally pulled apart, Oliver's eyes were shining with happiness, and Izar couldn't help but smile back at him, feeling lighter than he had in days.
"So," Oliver said, his voice teasing as he gave Izar's hand a gentle squeeze. "Does that make it official? Boyfriends?"
Izar laughed softly, his heart full. "Yeah," he said, leaning in to press another quick kiss to Oliver's lips. "Boyfriends."
As the warm glow of the Owlery faded behind them, Izar and Oliver made their way through the castle's winding corridors, heading towards the Room of Requirement. The afternoon air had cooled, as the sun began to set, the castle was beginning to grow quieter, as the lull before dinner set in. The occasional burst of laughter from students hanging out in the hallway echoed off the walls. But neither of them paid much attention to their surroundings their focus was on the quiet comfort of walking together, hand in hand.
As they neared the entrance to the Room of Requirement, the corridor seemed deserted. But they knew better, other students would already be inside, reading for their meeting. Izar wondered what they would learn this time.
They stood in front of the blank stretch of wall that would become the entrance to the Room of Requirement, both of them thinking the same thing: they needed a place to learn, a place to train, they began walking back and forth and soon the door materialised before them, appearing from nothing, and with one last glance at each other, they stepped inside.
The room was already alive with activity. Some of the other members were already practicing spells under the careful guidance of Harry, Ron and Hermione. The air was thick with the soft hum of incantations, the flicker of sparks, and the occasional burst of light from a successfully cast spell.
They weaved through the groups of students, catching sight of familiar faces—Neville practicing a Shield Charm, Ginny demonstrating a Disarming Spell to a younger Hufflepuff, and Luna Lovegood, her wand twirling lazily as she helped a Ravenclaw with a tricky hex. Eventually, they spotted Harry near the front, overseeing a group of students practicing Stunning Spells.
"Hey," Harry greeted them with a quick smile when he saw them approach, his eyes seemed to look over Izar for a few moments, "Glad you could make it." He smiled, locking eyes with Izar.
"Wouldn't miss it," Oliver replied, his tone light, "So should we just get warmed up?"
Harry nodded, but there was a moment of awkwardness as his eyes flicked down to the floor, avoiding Izar's gaze for a brief second before lifting again. "Yeah... if the two of you want to get some practice in, we'll be starting in a few minutes." His voice sounded steady, but there was an undertone to it, something vulnerable hiding beneath the usual confidence he wore when leading the DA.
Izar noticed the subtle shift in Harry's posture, the way he seemed more fidgety than usual, as if something was pulling at the edge of his thoughts. He could feel Harry's gaze lingering on him again, not in the way people normally looked at him, especially more recently.
The room was buzzing with energy as more and more students filed into the Room of Requirement. Izar and Oliver found a spot near the back, where they practiced their disarming and shield charms. The Room of Requirement had transformed into a sprawling training area once again, with plenty of space for the various practice exercises they had been working on in previous meetings.
Izar's nerves were still humming from earlier, but being here always gave him a strange sense of calm. Here, they weren't just students; they were learning to protect themselves, learning to resist.
As Harry made his way to the front of the room, the chatter began to die down. Hermione stood beside him, her expression serious as always, and Ron hovered near them, throwing the occasional glance toward the door as if expecting Umbridge to burst in at any second.
Harry raised his hands, signalling for everyone to quiet down. "All right, everyone," he began, his voice carrying through the room. "Tonight, we're going to try something different. Something more advanced than anything we've done so far."
A murmur rippled through the crowd as students exchanged curious glances, the excitement in the air palpable. Izar felt a flicker of anticipation in his chest. What could they be learning tonight?
Harry continued, his voice steady but full of purpose. "We're going to be learning the Patronus Charm."
The room fell into a stunned silence. Students' eyes widened, and a few whispers broke out, though they were quickly hushed by the weight of what Harry had just said. The Patronus Charm was legendary. Difficult to perform and even more difficult to master, but it was one of the most powerful defensive spells. A way to protect against dark creatures like Dementors.
Izar's heart pounded. He had heard stories of Patronuses, but he had never seen one in person.
"This charm is one of the most important spells you can learn," Harry explained, his gaze sweeping over the gathered students. "It's difficult, I doubt anyone will get it on the first try. But if you can master it, it's one of the strongest forms of protection against dark magic."
A wave of excitement and nervous energy filled the room. Some students looked daunted, others eager to prove themselves. Izar exchanged a glance with Oliver, who raised an eyebrow in intrigue.
"Patronuses are conjured using happy memories," Harry continued. "You have to think of your happiest memory, something powerful, something that fills you with hope and joy. That's the key to making it work." He looked out over the room, taking in everyones faces looking up at him. "Once you have that memory, the incantation is Expecto Patronum. But it's not just about saying the words, it's about letting the memory guide the magic. You need to believe in it."
Izar swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the lesson. He had been through a lot recently, and finding that happy memory, the one that could summon such powerful magic, seemed daunting. But then he felt Oliver's hand brush against his, a reassuring touch that grounded him in the moment.
Harry raised his wand, and the room quieted once more. "I'll show you," he said. "Watch closely."
The room was still as Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment, concentrating. Then, with a clear and steady voice, he spoke the incantation.
"Expecto Patronum!"
From the tip of Harry's wand, a brilliant silver light burst forth, taking the shape of a stag. The ethereal creature stood tall and proud in the middle of the room, its silvery glow casting soft, shimmering light over the students. Gasps of awe echoed through the space, and even Izar felt a sense of wonder seeing such magic in person.
The Patronus paced around the room for a moment before dissolving into mist, leaving behind a hushed, awe-filled silence.
"That," Harry said, his voice carrying over the crowd again, "is what you're aiming for. A full corporeal patronus, I know it's not easy, but we'll work on it together."
The room buzzed with excitement and nervousness as students spread out, finding space to try their own Patronus charms. Izar's pulse quickened. The idea of conjuring a Patronus seemed almost impossible, but he was determined to give it a shot.
"Got a happy memory in mind?" Oliver asked, nudging Izar gently, his tone playful but curious.
Izar thought for a moment, his mind flickering through various memories. He'd had moments of happiness, but the one that stood out, the one that seemed to fill him with warmth, was more recent. The moments of happiness that he found when he and Oliver were together in the lake stood out as some of the happiest moments he had had recently.
"Yeah," Izar said quietly, meeting Oliver's eyes. "I think I've got one."
Oliver smiled, a grin that made Izar's heart skip a beat. "Good. Let's see what you can do, then."
They found a spot near the back, where they could practice without too many people watching. Izar raised his wand, taking a deep breath as he tried to focus on the memory, the way Oliver's voice had sounded, the look in his eyes, the warmth of their hands intertwined. It filled him with a sense of calm and hope, something that felt strong enough to conjure the magic.
"Expecto Patronum," Izar whispered, trying to summon the spell.
For a moment, nothing happened. But then, a faint wisp of silver light began to form at the tip of his wand. It was small and fleeting, but it was there.
Oliver grinned. "Well, that's a start!"
Izar couldn't help but smile. It wasn't even close to a full Patronus, but it was more than he had expected. The memory was working, Oliver was working. He wasn't doing this alone.
They spent the next hour practicing together, both of them taking turns, encouraging each other with every attempt. Oliver's Patronus attempts were similar, wisps of light, growing stronger with each try. It wasn't perfect, but they were getting closer, and with each failed attempt came a renewed determination.
Around them, the rest of the DA members were having mixed results. Some, like Hermione, were already producing balls of while light, while others were struggling to get even the faintest wisp of light. But the room was alive with determination, the energy of resistance and hope palpable in the air.
As the session began to wind down, Harry called for everyone's attention once more.
"Remember," he said, his voice full of encouragement, "this takes time. Don't get discouraged if you didn't get it right away. Keep practicing, and you'll get there."
The students murmured their agreement, some looking more determined than ever. Izar felt the same—he knew that with time, he could do this. And with Oliver beside him, everything felt a little more possible.
As the DA meeting came to a close, students began to gather their things and head out, ready for the Halloween feast, whispering excitedly about their progress, or in some cases, their frustration. Izar and Oliver lingered for a moment, as if hoping to be the last ones in the room.
"You know," Oliver said, his tone light, "I think we'll get there soon. A few more lessons, and we'll be producing full-blown Patronuses. I can feel it."
Izar smiled, feeling lighter than he had in days. "Yeah. I wonder what ours will be."
"I hope mine is something cool, maybe like a tiger or a bear" Oliver laughed.
Izar chuckled at Oliver's comment, his heart warming at the lightness in his voice. The tension that had been weighing on him for days now felt distant, replaced by the simple comfort of being in Oliver's presence. The thought of what his Patronus might be sparked his imagination, and for the first time in a long while, Izar allowed himself to think about something beyond the constant worries of family and secrecy.
"A tiger or a bear, huh?" Izar teased, raising an eyebrow as they lingered near the back of the room, watching the last few students shuffle out. "I can definitely see that. Something fierce."
Oliver puffed out his chest in an exaggerated show of confidence. "Fierce and noble, obviously. Maybe even a dragon." He grinned at Izar, his playful energy contagious.
Izar's smile widened. "A dragon? I'm not sure anyone's Patronus has ever been a dragon, but I suppose if anyone could pull it off, it'd be you."
Oliver laughed, but his eyes softened as he glanced over at Izar. "What about you? What do you think your Patronus will be?"
Izar paused, the question catching him off guard. He hadn't given it much thought, but now that Oliver had asked, he found himself wondering. The Patronus Charm was a reflection of one's inner strength, the essence of who they were. Izar's life had been a whirlwind of expectations and rebellion, of trying to break free from the chains of his family's legacy. What kind of creature would symbolise that?
"I don't know," Izar admitted, his voice quieter now. "Maybe something small but determined. A fox, maybe? Cunning to show my Slytherin side" He gave a small laugh, glancing at Oliver. "It's hard to say. I guess it depends on who I really am, doesn't it?"
Oliver tilted his head, considering Izar's words for a moment before stepping closer, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," he said, his voice low but filled with sincerity. "Whatever your Patronus is, it'll be powerful. You've been through a lot, Izar. And you're still here. That counts for something."
Izar's chest tightened at Oliver's words. He had spent so much time doubting himself, unsure of his place in the world, especially with everything crumbling around him. But hearing Oliver say that—hearing someone believe in him—meant more than he could put into words.
"Thanks," Izar said softly, his gaze meeting Oliver's. "I needed to hear that."
Oliver smiled, his eyes warm and full of that familiar reassurance. "Anytime."
They stood there in the quiet of the now almost empty Room of Requirement, the echoes of the other students' voices fading into the background. For a moment, the world outside seemed distant, and it was just the two of them, standing together in the soft glow of the magical room.
Izar's heart raced, but this time, it wasn't out of fear or anxiety. It was the thrill of having someone like Oliver beside him—someone who saw him for who he truly was, someone who believed in him, even when he wasn't sure he believed in himself.
"I'm glad we're doing this together," Izar said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Oliver's hand brushed lightly against Izar's, fingers interlacing in a familiar gesture that sent warmth coursing through him. "Me too. And don't worry—we'll get those Patronuses soon. Just you wait."
Izar chuckled, leaning into the comfort of Oliver's touch. "I'll hold you to that."
They stood in silence for a while longer, savouring the moment before they'd have to leave the safety of the Room of Requirement and step back into the world of expectations, whispers, and secrets. But for now, they were together, and that was enough.
"Ready to the feast?" Oliver asked, his voice light but tinged with a hint of reluctance, as if he didn't want to leave just yet.
Izar nodded, though he felt the same reluctance. "Yeah. Let's go."
As they made their way to the door, their hands still intertwined, Izar couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. The road ahead was uncertain, but with Oliver by his side, maybe, just maybe, they could face whatever was coming. And in that moment, as they stepped out into the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, Izar felt a quiet sense of determination bloom within him.
The two of them stepped out of the Room of Requirement, their hands still intertwined, the cool air of the castle corridors greeted them. The usual bustle of Hogwarts in the evening surrounded them, the faint echoes of students' voices and the clatter of footsteps as everyone made their way toward the Great Hall for the feast. But for a moment, Izar barely noticed the noise. The warmth of Oliver's hand in his, and the gentle glow of their connection, seemed to quiet the world around them.
As they walked through the corridors, Oliver glanced at Izar, the corners of his mouth lifting into a playful grin. "You're thinking about something," Oliver teased, his tone light. "What's on your mind?"
Izar blinked, snapping back to the present. He gave a small smile, shaking his head. "Just... thinking about today," he admitted. "I started off as the worst day ever…. But ended up being the best, thanks to you."
Oliver's grin widened, and his eyes sparkled with warmth as he gave Izar's hand a gentle squeeze. "Glad I could turn it around for you," he said softly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of sincerity beneath the teasing tone. "Though, I have to admit, it's been a pretty great day for me too."
Izar felt a warmth spread through him at Oliver's words, the heaviness that had weighed on him all day lifting more with each step they took. The thought of how the day had begun, with the weight of Lucius's letter and the uncertainty about his future, seemed distant now. Everything had felt like it was falling apart, but being with Oliver had brought him back from the edge. He never imagined that the simple act of reaching out to someone, of trusting them, could change so much in such a short time.
They continued walking through the winding corridors, the gentle murmur of Hogwarts around them, but Izar found that the usual noise didn't bother him as much as it once had. The looks from other students—the whispers that he knew would inevitably come—didn't seem so daunting now. He had always been afraid of how people would react, but with Oliver by his side, it felt like he could face anything.
"I just… I didn't expect things to feel this way," Izar admitted, his voice quieter now as they approached the entrance to the Great Hall. "I thought I'd be more scared, or anxious, but instead… I just feel calm."
Oliver turned to face him, his expression soft but filled with a quiet determination. "That's because you're finally letting yourself be who you really are, Izar. And I'm proud of you for that."
Izar's heart skipped a beat at Oliver's words. There was something so steady about Oliver, something that made Izar feel like, for the first time, he didn't have to carry the weight of the world on his own. He wasn't alone in this anymore. He had someone who understood him, who stood by him, even when everything else felt uncertain.
"Thanks," Izar said, his voice thick with emotion. He squeezed Oliver's hand in return, his smile soft. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Oliver's gaze softened further, and he leaned in, leaning and gently kissing Izar.
Izar's breath caught as Oliver's lips touched his, the world shrinking down to just the two of them in that brief, perfect moment. His heart fluttered, and for that second, everything else—his worries, the looming threat of his family, the whispers of other students—faded into nothingness.
But just as quickly as the warmth enveloped them, it was interrupted by a sharp, familiar sound.
"Hem hem."
The hairs on the back of Izar's neck stood up. That sound could only belong to one person.
Both Izar and Oliver broke apart abruptly, turning toward the source of the interruption. Standing a few feet away, her face pinched in that sickly sweet expression of false politeness, was none other than Dolores Umbridge. Her pink cardigan and disturbingly calm demeanour clashed with the tension that immediately gripped the hallway.
"Ah, young love," Umbridge said, her voice dripping with saccharine venom. "But I must remind you both that Hogwarts has rules. Proper conduct, decorum, and respect for your peers must be maintained at all times. Personal displays of affection are… uncouth."
Oliver instinctively moved slightly in front of Izar, as if trying to shield him from the full force of Umbridge's gaze. Izar's heart pounded in his chest, not from fear, but from the sudden rush of adrenaline. He hadn't thought about what it would mean to be caught by Umbridge of all people.
Izar straightened, his hand slipping away from Oliver's but only out of practicality. He could feel the weight of her judgmental stare. She was waiting for a reaction—any slip-up she could use against them.
"We weren't doing anything wrong, Professor, theres plenty of couples that kiss in the hallways," Izar said, keeping his voice steady, though the undercurrent of defiance was unmistakable.
Umbridge's smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure you believe that what you were doing is completely fine, Mr. Lestrange. But I do have my… expectations. No public display of affections between students of the same sex. It would be a shame if you affliction would affect the younger students."
Izar felt a cold surge of anger pulse through him at Umbridge's words, his fists clenching at his sides. He knew exactly what she was insinuating, that sickly sweet smile barely masking her venom. She wasn't just speaking about rules or discipline anymore—she was attacking him personally, digging at his very identity.
Oliver tensed beside him, and Izar could sense the silent outrage building in him too. But now wasn't the time for an outburst. Umbridge was waiting, hoping for them to give her exactly what she wanted, a reason to make things worse, a reason to give them detention. Izar wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
With an effort, he kept his voice calm and even, though the defiance burned hot underneath his words. "I'm not sure what you mean by 'affliction,' Professor," he said, staring her down. "But I can assure you that being yourselves won't harm anyone."
Umbridge's smile stayed in place, but her eyes glittered with a dangerous glint. "Of course, Mr. Lestrange. However, I do worry about certain... influences. After all, Hogwarts must maintain its high standards for all students."
Her words hung in the air, dripping with malice, as if his very existence posed a threat to those around him. The insinuation that his relationship with Oliver, his identity. was something dangerous was clear.
But Izar didn't flinch. He could feel the heat of Oliver's presence beside him, the silent support that steadied him in the face of her poison.
"With all due respect, Professor," Oliver said suddenly, his voice calm but firm, "I think we are both happy with each other, we don't want to 'turn' anyone else gay, even if that was possible."
Izar glanced at Oliver, admiration swelling in his chest. Oliver stood tall, meeting Umbridge's gaze without a flicker of fear. His words were delivered with a politeness that didn't waver, but there was an edge beneath them, a challenge.
Umbridge's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her smile tightening. She seemed to realise that any further push here might draw too much attention, might reveal too much of her true malice that she barely tried to hide. So, instead of escalating, she gave a slow, measured nod, as though she were conceding—for now.
"Indeed," she said, her voice syrupy as she took a step back. "But do be careful, Mr. Lestrange, Mr. Butler. Appearances matter at Hogwarts. We wouldn't want the wrong impression to be given."
With that final jab, she turned on her heel, her pink cardigan disappearing around the corner as the sound of her heels clicking against the stone floor faded into the distance.
Izar let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, his whole body tense from holding back the anger that had been boiling inside him. He turned to Oliver, his chest tight with a mix of frustration and relief.
"'Affliction,'" Izar muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "I swear, one day—"
"Hey." Oliver's voice was soft as he placed a hand on Izar's arm, grounding him. "We didn't let her get to us. That's what matters."
Izar looked at Oliver, the fire in him slowly cooling, replaced by gratitude. He was right. They hadn't let Umbridge win, hadn't given her the reaction she wanted. Despite everything, they were still standing.
"Yeah," Izar said, his voice quieter now, but steady. "You're right."
Oliver's expression softened as he smiled, and for a moment, all the tension from their encounter melted away. "Come on," Oliver said, his voice lightening. "Let's get to the feast before we miss all the good food."
Izar chuckled, his mood lifting as he nodded. As they walked together, the memory of Umbridge's words lingered in the back of his mind, but it no longer had the power to pull him down. With Oliver by his side, he knew that no matter what people like her thought, he wasn't alone.