1. Chapter 1 (1/2)

Glasses dwds 48760K 2021-07-20

this is really loosely based off some prompt which was like 'a meets b by cleaning their glasses on bs cloak' or something idk? but yeah feat. 12's cute as hell round frames

[a christmas present for audrina (awkwardedgeworth on tumblr)! merry christmas bbg hope ya like it :))) ]

arata shifts on his feet, anxious. his eyes travel around the great hall—rows and rows of students, all old and in uniform and mature. he casts a glance at the nervous kids around him and feels slightly embarrassed at how pathetic they all look. there's a tiny girl in front of him who's actually shaking in her cloak. her hair's wet, too—she must have been one of the unfortunate few who managed to actually fall into the water when they were crossing the moat, even though the big man guiding them (harold? hagar?) had warned them about the unsteadiness of the boat.

headmistress mcgonogall stands, and silence sweeps across the room. arata quickly straightens and snaps to attention.

"good evening, to faculty, staff, and students—both old and new." she smiles a little, nodding in the direction of arata and his new classmates. "welcome to a new year at hogwarts! this year is promising, as…"

arata tries to pay attention to the headmistress' speech, he does, but his feet hurt and he's cold and she sometimes uses words that are too big for him to understand. he's tired, too, but stifles his yawns, unlike some of the less conscientious eleven year olds around him. he feels very polite and proper until he sees a sixth-year's head fall onto the table in fatigue.

even if he was in perfect health, it's not like he would be able to hear the headmistress anyways—there are two boys in front of him who keep nudging each other and giggling. he notes with a small amount of surprise that the chubbier boy has managed to sneak snacks into the room under his cloak—he slips his friend a chocolate frog, and arata's stomach growls.

"shh!" he leans forward, and they both look at him. "no talking during ceremony."

the chubby one flushes, red spread around his round face, but his friend—a thin boy with lidded, sly eyes—frowns.

"you're not the boss of us," he says, and arata's

ows shoot up. he wants to argue that some people are trying to listen, but wouldn't that defeat the whole purpose of his argument? talking about not talking? the kid smirks and tugs chubs back around in obvious dismissal.

arata blushes a bit, makes eye contact with the shivering girl, and jerks away to focus on the ceiling. he's momentarily lost amidst the swirling clouds and stars. fascinating…

arata starts when he feels a sudden tugging at his cloak. he swivels and glances down and is met with a small boy with wild hair.

"w-what are you doing?" he hisses as quietly as he can. still, the two in front of him turn around with wide eyes. "turn around," he snaps, meaner than he intends, and chubs pauses with a hand halfway to his mouth.

"no talking during ceremony," says his friend with a sharp face and a sharper grin. chubs and the guy next to him laugh. heat spreads through arata.

"shut up," he mutters. sharp laughs a little and he and chubs face forward again. wild hair is still rubbing at his cloak.

"stop that!" he says, and jerks the cloth away.

"hey!" says wild hair, and reaches for it. "i'm using that!"

"what do you mean, 'using'? it's my cloak!"

"my glasses are all smudged," says wild hair, and waves around wire rims. "i need to clean 'em, and my coat's not the right material." he points to the pair settled on arata's nose. "you of all people should understand that!"

arata looks at his coat and scowls—the thing is, he does understand. some materials have no effect, and others actually succeed in making the grease even worse. "what kind of coat is that, anyways?"

"muggle clothing!" says wild hair, cheerfully. "i'm a muggle-born! and your wizard coat is perfect!" he grabs at arata's cloak and scrubs at his lense. arata watches as he

ings them up to his face, peers through, and smiles.

"all good!" he says, shooting arata two thumbs up. "thanks for that!"

"no problem," arata mutters, running a hand through his bangs. he wants to face forward and listen to the finishing words of the headmistress' speech, but of course, wild hair isn't done.

"i'm touji hisami," he says, and sticks a hand into arata's space. "nice to meet you!"

"arata kokonoe," says arata, and shakes.

the sorting isn't anything like how arata expected. each decision is met with cheers and jeers from the upperclassmen, taunts and praise thrown at the trembling first year on their way to their table. arata knows that they don't mean it, that it's all in jest, but still—he feels a bit like throwing up at the prospect of ridicule from some of the bigger seventh years. touji keeps fidgeting next to him, but when arata looks, he's got a lopsided grin plastered on his face.

"kokonoe, arata," says the headmistress, and arata jumps.

"good luck," touji whispers, clapping him on the back. chubs looks at him in awe.

somehow, he makes it to the front of the great hall without fainting or tripping. he can feel a light sheen of sweat on his

ow, but he's too stiff to reach up and wipe it away.

headmistress mcgonogall smiles down at him when he reaches the stool.

"don't be nervous," she says, before dropping the hat on his head.

hello, arata.

arata knows that this was coming, the hat's voice in his head, but it doesn't make him any more prepared.

it's alright, you're fine. mind if i take a peek inside your