A/N: Sadly, I don’t own Harry Potter.

With a loud cracking sound, Seulgi Apparates at the top of a hill. She can still feel the familiar sensation of being pressed from all directions, breathing difficulties, her insides twisting and all that. Apparition should be easy at this point. Being a sixth year and having spent nearly all of her summer practicing with Wendy, the sensation really shouldn’t faze her anymore.

But when a raging Death Eater was gripping on her robe in the process, everything was so much more intense. Seulgi didn’t even picture her destination clearly, as she was too busy dodging curses directed at her left and right back at her previous location.

Just a couple of hours ago, it was already dark in Hogsmeade when she and Wendy—hidden underneath the Cloak of Invisibility—went snooping around the village. When she’d heard that Death Eaters were hiding and plotting in certain parts of the village, Seulgi knew she had to do—something.

Wendy, who pretty much lectured her that afternoon (“Do you know how dangerous that would be? You’re gonna get yourself killed – or worse, expelled!”), ended up going along with her. The Ravenclaw reasoned that Seulgi needed some brain on top of that stupid Gryffindor bravery. And this was a really, really stupid idea. What if Voldemort was here?

(Okay, so The Dark Lord himself wasn’t there. But Death Eaters were there. Lots of them. And after an action-packed sequence in which the Cloak of Invisibility malfunctioned—Merlin knows why, maybe it was a Dark spell—they were discovered, curses were fired, and Wendy Disapparated without her – not the smartest thing to do. Seulgi followed suit, but one Death Eater managed to grab her. She Disapparated anyway, taking an enemy with her. She could take on one Death Eater. Maybe.)

So now here she is, spinning and falling on the ground at the top of a hill. She realizes three things. 1.) She’s lying on the grass 2.) Her left arm hurts like a 3.) The cloaked Death Eater is right there, already standing up.

Seulgi reaches inside her robes to grab her wand, but the other person is faster, and a disarming spell is fired.

“Expelliarmus!”

And now, defenseless after being stripped off her wand, Seulgi quickly sits up and cries out in pain. She notices the lacerations that have formed on her left arm, bleeding and painful, exposed by her torn up sleeve.

The real horror is the person standing in front of her, whose voice she recognizes. At this point, she really shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but it still doesn’t stop her heart from breaking into pieces.

“You’ve Splinched,” the Death Eater scoffs at Seulgi, pointing her wand at her. “What are you, a third year?”

“Sixth, actually,” Seulgi steels her nerves, sitting up straight on the ground, ignoring the pulsating pain on her arm. “You should know.”

The Death Eater chuckles darkly at her. She lowers her cloak to reveal her face under the moonlight. Seulgi has been preparing herself for this moment, for this revelation, but it still hurts seeing her face right now.

Pale skin. Long, dark tresses. Deep, dark eyes. Pink lips. Slytherin. Seventh Year. Defense Against the Dark Arts guru in her year (how ironic is this? She could pursue a career as an Auror with her abilities). Head Girl. A person she respects and admires. A person she really likes.

A Death Eater.

Irene smiles at her, and if the situation was different, it’d look friendly, and Seulgi wants to throw up at the current harsh reality.

“That was rhetoric. Of course I know who you are,” Irene drawls.

Seulgi’s heart aches. “Who doesn’t, anyway?” she is stalling now. Maybe if they keep talking, Wendy and the others might come rescue her. Or the other Death Eaters might catch up. Whichever comes first.

(The way Irene is pointing her wand at her with that wicked grin right now, though, is making her think maybe a Cruciatus curse will come first.)

“The Girl Who Lived,” Irene tilts her head, and takes two steps closer towards the sitting girl. “You’ve been giving us a lot of trouble this year with all your snooping around.”

Irene steps on Seulgi’s wand on the ground and kicks it backwards. That’s it, Seulgi is utterly defenseless right now.

“Dumbledore trusted you,” Seulgi hisses. Any feeling she had for the other girl is turning on her and squeezing her insides so hard, it hurts. I trusted you. I thought you were different. I didn’t want to believe—

“No, he didn’t,” Irene spits harshly. “He made me a Head Girl knowing full well where my loyalty belongs to,” Irene smiles cruelly at her. “Only you trusted me.”

Irene makes a sudden movement and Seulgi jerks backwards by reflex, but nothing comes. She realizes Irene is removing her heavy, black cloak, letting it fall on the ground. Eyes never leaving Seulgi, the Death Eater rolls up her sleeve and Seulgi sees it.

The skull. The snakes protruding from its mouth. The symbol of Lord Voldemort.

The person she’s in love with has been granted with the Dark Mark.

(Funny how easy it is to finally admit it internally right now, out of all times.)

“You really thought I was different, huh?” Irene says harshly at her as she puts down her arm, and it hurts Seulgi more than anything to hear all of this. She’ll gladly take a Cruciatus curse over this.

Seulgi blinks back the tears that are threatening to well up. “None of that matters anymore.” She struggles to stand up, and Irene doesn’t stop her. Once she is on her two feet, Irene begins circling her, wand still pointed at her.

“Aw,” Irene cooes from behind her. “But what about when I helped you with finding Transfiguration class all those years ago when you just got in? Or when I helped you with your Potions homework?”

Seulgi wants to cover her ears, but she doesn’t want to make any sudden movement. She’s scared of her now.

“When I defended you from my Slytherin folks who picked on you?” Irene laughs cruelly. “When you defended me when everybody thought I couldn’t be trusted, when people said all Slytherins are the same?”

Seulgi squirms in her place, all those memories are replaying in her head right now. She shuts her eyes when Irene stops right next to her. Her lips are dangerously close to her ear now.

“When we sneaked out at night?” Irene hisses. “When we slow danced in the Room of Requirement? When you—” Irene’s voice is now barely a whisper. “—kissed me against the view of the starry sky in the Astronomy Tower?”

Seulgi snaps open her eyes, but doesn’t look at the other girl. She just stares ahead, ignoring the stinging pain all over her body (and her heart) and focuses on the Shrieking Shack just right across the hill they’re standing on right now. The tears are spilling but she doesn’t care anymore.

“I knew you were a Death Eater,” Seulgi says with a shaky voice, letting out ragged breaths.

“Yeah, but you only realized that like, what, a couple of weeks ago?” Irene snickers, now she is standing right in front of the Gryffindor. “When you began avoiding me, I knew. And we had to make a move right away.”

“Why don’t you just kill me now.”

“My orders are to capture you,” Irene aims her wand at Seulgi’s throat. “Alive.”

Seulgi shifts her gaze to Irene’s dark eyes. It has to be now or never. She braces herself. Now how about some Gryffindor bravery?

“You captured me, all right.”

Suddenly, Seulgi lunges forward, pushing aside the wand that has been aimed at her for the last three minutes. Irene loses her grip on her wand and it falls on the ground. Seulgi grabs both Irene’s wrists in her hands and leans forward, pressing her lips on the other girl’s.

Irene freezes, and she just stands there, letting herself be kissed and held by Seulgi. The Gryffindor has expected being pushed right away, and then perhaps she would get slapped before Irene picks up her wand again and finally curses her. But none of that is happening right now. Irene is even somehow returning the kiss now, as messy as it is, with her wrists still secured in Seulgi’s hands on the sides.

Seulgi bares everything into the kiss. The hurt, the anger, the feeling of being utterly betrayed. She lets her know in ways that the words can’t, by biting down Irene’s bottom lip a little too hard, by clashing their teeth, by pressing down on the other girl’s tongue with her own. Seulgi isn’t sure who relaxed first, but right now their hands are free, tangled in the other’s hair, roaming around the other’s torso. Irene whimpers when Seulgi runs a hand through her abdomen over her shirt.

Their heads swim. The whole world spins. It’s like they’re both under a spell—

“Cut! What the heck?! Cut! Cut!”

(Aaand the spell is broken.)

They pull themselves apart, breathing heavily.

Seulgi hears people around her snicker as the director is now approaching them, looking positively murderous.

“What was that?” Joy demands, hands gesturing wildly. A rolled up script in her hand is raised threateningly at the two actresses.

Irene, who has the decency to look embarrassed, answers for both of them. “Uh, we’re sorry. We were kind of getting off-script.”

“Kind of?” Joy’s voice goes up one octave higher. She rolls out the script in her hand and searches for the desired page. When she finds it, she starts yelling again. “The script says the kiss is meant as a distraction but the Death Eater reacts fast and pulls away and slaps—”

“—so it’s Irene’s fault, then,” Seulgi cuts in, and wiggles her eyebrows at her co-star, who still looks flustered from the kiss. “She didn’t pull away and slap me, did she?”

“Seulgi!” Irene reprimands her, her usually pale complexion gets even redder.

“What? It’s true.”

“You put your hands all over me first, that wasn’t in the script either!”

“Stop!” Joy calls out, successfully shutting them up. She rolls up the script in her hand again and points at both of them. “You two. Be quiet.”

“Is anybody even surprised anymore at this point? It’s been a long time coming,” Wendy points out from where she’s standing, which earns giggles from nearly everyone on set. She was supposed to go in and duel with Irene’s character after Seulgi’s character falls unconscious.

Joy turns to Wendy as well. “You. Not helping. Be quiet.” She turns to the rest of the crew. “Now can anyone please do something about Irene’s lip? And her hair? Jesus Christ, Seulgi.” She shakes her head at the lead actress and walks back to her chair. “We’ll take a short break, be ready in fifteen minutes!”

As soon as she said that, the make up artists, the hair stylists, and the wardrobe people swarm the actresses and fix their—everything. Their little…improvisation really has ruined everything. One makeup artist gives Seulgi a particularly nasty look while trying to fix up Irene’s bruised lip. Seulgi only giggles sheepishly at everyone and gets away from them after they finished fixing her up.

(The only injury on Seulgi’s part is smudged lip paint, tousled hair, and that’s it – while Irene is positively ruined all over).

“Ugh, gross,” Wendy makes a face when Seulgi sits next to her near one of the trailer cars.

“You’re just jealous.”

“What? No, I mean your fake wounds. They look creepily real,” Wendy gestures at Seulgi’s fake lacerations on her arm. “Not you and Irene.”

“Oh,” Seulgi’s face lights up. She holds out her arm closer to Wendy. “The wonders of make up these days. They just get better every year.”

“Please, didn’t you just hear me say they’re gross,” Wendy shoves her co-star on the shoulder. Seulgi laughs heartily, and she can’t help but joins her.

They watch the grumpy director munching on chicken in her chair as a number of people are fanning her by her sides. By the time Joy starts devouring her third chicken, Irene is done being fixed up and she makes her way into one of the trailer cars. Seulgi keeps her gaze on her and their eyes meet just before Irene disappears into the trailer.

(Twinkling eyes. Hopeful, shy smiles. The same ones Irene’s been giving her for a few years now.)

Wendy bumps her arm onto hers (the one without the gross fake lacerations). “So…?” She prompts.

Seulgi shrugs, still beaming at everyone and everything. “So…what?”

“Did anything happen yet? Have you asked her out?”

“No, and no. Why do I have to be the one to ask her out?”

“Because I feel more comfortable nagging you to do it,” Wendy says. “The Ravenclaw actors gang about it the other day and she went red as a tomato, I felt kinda bad.”

Seulgi chuckles nervously. “Yeah, I don’t know about that. Maybe not now.”

Wendy groans. “Why not? You guys have been making googly eyes at each other for years now, and I think the tension is so thick and palpable, Joy could cut it with a knife.”

“We have not—” Seulgi stops and sighs. “There’s just this one little problem. I don’t really wanna mix romance and work. It can potentially be messy.”

“Seulgi, we made out in the trailer when we were like, what, fourteen? We’re fine now, aren’t we?”

Seulgi makes a face and laughs out loud, earning a glare from the grumpy director. “That was hardly romance. I was just young and hormonal and you were a willing participant.”

Wendy feigns hurt, puts a hand on her chest and lets out an exaggerated gasp. Seulgi holds out her disgusting arm again close to Wendy’s face and the latter pushes down hard at it by reflex, effectively ruining the fake wounds. Wendy shrieks because the fake blood is in her hands now. Seulgi shrieks because the make up artists worked hard on them this morning and now they’re ruined and they only have five more minutes until filming resumes.

(Fixing the wounds to perfection takes up nearly half an hour, and Joy is livid. Seulgi is starting to think the director should’ve played Voldemort.)

Filming for today has ended, and the film crews are wrapping up the set right now. Seulgi removes her heavy robe and goes to get her fake lacerations removed. Then she enters one of the trailers to get her stuff. It has been such a long day on set and her body is sore all over, but nothing is sorer than her face right now.

She spots Irene inside, and she lights up instantly.

“Hey.”

Irene looks up from her phone, her eyes meet Seulgi’s. “Oh, hey.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air for two seconds before Seulgi chuckles. “So…that could’ve gone better.”

One of the make up artists—the same one who gave Seulgi a nasty look earlier that day—is passing by and he scoffs at Seulgi’s words. He exits the trailer and now Seulgi and Irene are alone.

“Everyone hates me today for delaying everything,” Seulgi sighs and throw her arms up.

Irene smiles at her. “It’s okay, we did great in the end,” she steps closer toward Seulgi, biting her lips while doing so.

They’re standing so close now, and—God, how is she much taller than Irene now? When they all were brought into the series as kids, Irene was the cool big sister to everyone, as she was significantly older than most of the child actors. She was taller, much prettier, more self-assured, and she had more acting experience than most of them.

She’s still the cool big sister to most of them right now, except Seulgi can’t even associate Irene with the word ‘sister’ anymore. It’s been this way since about two (or three, or four) years ago, when Seulgi realized being close to the older girl made her feel all kinds of dizzy in all the right ways.

And it looks like it’s mutual, too. Their on-screen—as well as off-screen—chemistry is ‘Outstanding’, as cheekily said by the author of the book series herself. The fact that the characters they both play have many romantic scenes together does nothing to put out the fire. Today wasn’t actually the first time their chemistry ruined filming (slow dancing in the Room of Requirement last year was a difficult take because they kept getting lost in each other’s eyes and forgetting their lines), but today was certainly the most explosive.

(Wendy was right. Everyone was right. Seulgi might go crazy soon if she doesn’t do something.)

Suddenly she snaps out of her thoughts when she notices Irene’s lips moving, but she doesn’t hear a thing. “What?” Seulgi blurts out.

Irene giggles. “I asked if I slapped you too hard in the last takes.”

“Oh, that,” Seulgi scratches her head. “You mean those last takes where Joy kept yelling ‘more!’ to make you slap me harder? Yeah it kind of hurt, but it was worth it.”

Irene brings a hand to Seulgi’s face, cupping her cheek, the spot where she slapped her at least thirteen times today. Seulgi’s breath hitches and it doesn’t go unnoticed. The younger girl leans into the touch, keeping her gaze locked on Irene’s dark eyes.

“I’m sorry, it was partially my fault we kept ruining that scene,” Irene says, voice barely above a whisper right now.

“Keyword partially,” Seulgi grins confidently, despite everything. “I did the most damage. Ruined your make up and all, sorry.”

Irene blushes. She retracts her hand from Seulgi’s face and the taller nearly whines at the loss of contact.

“Besides,” Seulgi talks again. “Joy probably just went crazy to get back at me. Or she was just high on chicken.”

“In all seriousness,” Irene crosses her arms. “I do think we should step up our game on set, and be in our best behavior.”

It sounds painfully like a scolding, and Seulgi was about to shrink when she catches the playful twinkle in Irene’s eyes and they both laugh at each other. Seulgi thinks she can just stand there and stare at her twinkling eyes forever, and that would be enough.

“So what do you think we should do to resolve—” Seulgi gestures at both of them, the corner of tugging upward. “—this? Whatever this is, between us, that just screws things up everytime?”

Irene uncrosses her arms. “I don’t know, you tell me.” She steps a little closer to the younger girl. (How is that still possible? They’re practically in kissing distance right now).

“Well,” Seulgi scratches the back of her neck. “I don’t know why I haven’t been able to do anything, but I guess I was just kind of scared that in case anything goes wrong it would ruin our on-screen chemistry? I mean,” Seulgi gulps. “I’m not saying you or I don’t have the capacity to be professional—”

Irene cuts in Seulgi’s rambling. “No, I totally get it,” she smiles softly. “That’s what I was thinking too. But hey, our characters are enemies now from this point, aren’t they?”

Seulgi chuckles, but sobers up quickly. (Dammit, her palms are sweating). “Regardless,” she looks straight into Irene’s eyes. “I think I’ve been worrying too much.”

Irene playfully bumps her elbow on Seulgi’s arm. “You always have. We’ve known each other for eight years—”

“Nine,” Seulgi corrects her.

“—Yes. Nine. So you don’t have to be so nervous around me. I am your co-worker, but we’re also friends, right?” Irene bites her lip again, looking up at the taller girl shyly. “And for years, I’ve always been so particularly fond of you, so…” She trails off, looking down at her feet briefly before looking up at Seulgi through her eyelashes again.

The older girl is now looking at her with such fondness, and Seulgi’s stomach lurches, her breath hitches, and Seulgi wonders if maybe amateur Apparition, or using a Portkey, or flying on a broom in the (unfortunately fictional) Wizarding World feels a little bit like this.

(Also, maybe a little sip of Amortentia).

“I’ve really liked you for quite some time as well,” Seulgi says it with ease, and it surprises her. “No surprise there, huh?”

Irene shakes her head. “No, not to me.”

“Not to the rest of the cast.”

“And the whole crew.”

“Probably not to the audience either.”

“Oh, yeah. The fans. Especially the ones who ship us, not just our characters,” Irene points out.

They both laugh at that. Wendy was the one responsible of introducing the world of fandom to the them, a world which Seulgi thinks is so full of magic itself. She still laughs at a particularly bad and desperate manip of her and Irene kissing before they had an actual kissing scene last year. Wendy once printed it out and stuck it on Seulgi’s chair on set a couple of years ago as a prank.

“So uh,” Seulgi scratches the back of her neck again – a nervous habit. “Do you wanna grab some coffee? Or tea? Maybe not right now, if you have to be somewhere else? We can go tomorrow after you Avada Kedavra the life out of Minister for Magic? I’ll be in the studio.”

(Coffee or tea. Coffee or tea is great. They can start slow).

“Actually right now would be wonderful,” Irene grins.

“Sorry, did I say coffee or tea? I meant Butterbeer,” Seulgi beams at her. “And after that we’ll go to Honeydukes, I have enough Sickles in my pockets for some sweet treats for both of us.”

Irene giggles at her. “I see you as more of a Zonko’s Joke Shop’s regular customer, or Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes’, what with all the pranks you’ve pulled on set with Wendy for the last eight years.”

“Nine,” Seulgi corrects her again. She grabs her sling bag from the desk in front of her and holds out an arm. “Tell you what, let’s go to Hogsmeade right now.”

Irene grabs her handbag and links arms with Seulgi. “Try not to Splinch this time.”

“Got it,” Seulgi winks. “Pop!”

They childishly skip their way out of the trailer car together, arm-in-arm. When Irene laughs and leans her head on Seulgi’s shoulder, the younger girl feels slightly lightheaded, her steps feel lighter (perhaps they’re even levitating right now) and her world spins. Maybe magic isn’t as fictional as they think.

A/N: If it wasn’t for the Anti-Apparition-Charm, the skirmish with the Death Eaters would’ve taken place somewhere inside the Hogwarts Castle.

The idea of this fic came from razieltwelve  who was kind enough to let me know I could use the 'characters as actors' and the 'kiss as a distraction' thing as a prompt to write my own story. 

As always, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think :D