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Jemma Simmons removed her snow-covered hat and tousled her shoulder length hair as she rushed through the doors of the Turris Magnus in an effort to look more presentable for Advanced Arithmancy Studies, despite it being the crack of dawn and a torturous course which most of the other seventh year students would much rather sleep through, and showed up looking as though they were prepared to do just that. The complicated number charts and numerous essays discouraged most students from taking the elective in third year, let alone the advanced version later on, but the strenuous workload was exactly what Jemma enjoyed most. As she laid out her papers and wand neatly on her desk, curly hair, blue eyes, and an equally blue scarf appeared next to her, crashing into the only empty seat left just seconds before the start of class, unfortunately for him in the front row. Leopold Fitz, fellow seventh year Ravenclaw, bundled up in so many layers that he could have been wearing an invisibility cloak, or at least looked like he wished he was. Jemma had no idea why he took this course; he seemed smart enough, sure, but absolutely not a fan of early mornings or homework. Or her, she presumed. In all honesty, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of… jealousy? His desk covered in crumpled up papers was certainly not an ideal she aspired to, but it didn’t seem fair, or even possible, that he could receive as high of markings as people rumoured. Work ethic matters , she repeated her father’s voice in her head and proudly titled and dated her next page of notes.
After class, Professor Septima Weaver called the two aside to speak privately. “As you know, two months from now the Yule Ball is being held at Hogwarts for the first time in centuries. As is tradition, two 7th year students, one male and one female, who show proficient intelligence, creativity, and leadership abilities, are chosen to arrange the event, specifically in charge of decor and activities. Professors McGonagall and Coulson requested I ask the two of you to fulfill this great honor for the 1994 Yule Ball. As the top two students in Advanced Arithmancy, I fully trust their judgement and know the two of you will be up to the task.”
Jemma straightened up at receiving praise and not criticism, as she had worried, after being pulled aside with Leo Fitz. “It would be an absolute honor, Professor. Thank you for alerting us of such a wonderful opportunity.” Jemma glanced over at Fitz, who nodded blankly in agreement. Great , she thought to herself, and stifled an eye roll at the thought of working alongside the student whose work ethic she was judging only moments ago.
“Are you free to meet in the common room at 7:30 tonight?” she inquired with a characteristically cheerful demeanor as the two students exited the classroom. It was met with what could be interpreted as a grunt of approval, and that was that.
-
“Two students, in charge of this whole thing? What were they thinking,” Fitz mumbled into the giant pillow he was clutching against his chest.
“Would you quit staring at the ceiling and help me with this?” Jemma snapped back, hunched over a table, quill in hand. Her typically warm brown eyes glared with a coolness. “I don’t know why they chose us, but they did, and if Melinda McGonagall and Albus Coulson bestowed this responsibility to us, then I guess you must somehow be qualified enough.”
Fitz shot upright. “Oh, you’re making this about me, are you? I’m sure you’d much rather do this on your own, you think you’re so-.”
“I would, actually! I’ll have you know I excel at preparation. Take a look at this paper and tell me what you’ve contributed here.”
A young face, a third-year student, Jemma recalled, popped up behind a chair, bright blonde hair with a wand tangled in her curls and eccentric glasses perched on her nose. “I hate to interrupt, but it is called a common room for a reason. Just a bit difficult to read with the noise,” she reminded with a smile.
Fitz collapsed back into the chaise, returning the pillow to its original position over his face. Transfiguration he could handle. But party planning? He hypothesized this would be his greatest challenge at Hogwarts yet.
-
The next afternoon, Jemma Simmons was deep in discussion of the imprecise nature of her Divination course with Parvati Patil, that she didn’t see her Yule Ball collaborator until he practically ran straight into her.
“Oh, hey, I think we uh- you- well, I think you’re wearing my scarf,” he gestured awkwardly to Simmons' neck. “That is, well, I probably took yours.” Fitz’s face turned a shade comparable to the Gryffindor banners around campus, and with trembling hands (from the cold? nerves?) he showed off the name “Simmons” embroidered on the scarf in his hands.
“Ugh, Fitz!” Simmons exclaimed while hurriedly unwrapping the wrong scarf from her neck. “This is why I embroidered my name on it in the first place; I knew it would pay off eventually.” The two quickly exchanged scarves with mittened hands.
“We were just going to the library to study Chinese Fortune Sticks in preparation for the next exam if you’d like to join us,” Jemma offered.
“Oh, no no no, I took Divination third year,” Fitz mumbled from beneath the now proper scarf wrapped all the way up to his eyes, with an air of either pretension or humility, and Simmons was perturbed by her inability to decipher his intention, as she typically excelled at reading people. She and Parvati had only just turned to leave when Fitz spoke up...
“You did the embroidery on your scarf yourself?”
Simmons nodded.
“You don’t think you could maybe-”
“Do the same for yours?” Simmons finished his question for him. “I’d be more than happy to, to avoid another of these unfortunate mixups. Meet me in the common room at 7:30 again tonight.”
A flustered Fitz watched as the two girls walked away to practice their Divination, and he pondered how he would fill the hours leading up to their meeting.
-
“Now that that’s done,” Simmons said, pleased with her needlework, “I suppose we might as well continue working on our Yule Ball arrangements.” She passed the scarf back to Fitz, who carefully ran his fingers over the four letters stitched into his scarf. Simmons’s attention, however, was already on other things as she glanced about the common room, eyes landing on the statue behind Fitz.
“What do you suppose Rowena Ravenclaw would do if she were in our position?” She gazed in awe at their founder.
Fitz grunted, eyes still fixed on the scarf. “Oh, I don’t know, die of a broken heart.”
“Fitz!” Jemma exclaimed, leaning over to gently slap his knee. “That is not something to joke about! We might not even be here if not for her, you know.”
“I know, I know,” Fitz reluctantly agreed as he readjusted his position in the chair to be completely sideways, legs now hanging over one upholstered blue armrest. After a pause, “She was Scottish, you know.”
“Well of course I know that!” Simmons scoffed. “You, Leopold Fitz, really have the audacity to assume I don’t know everything there is to know about the founder of our house? After seven whole years here? Please.”
Fitz wrapped his newly embroidered scarf around his neck, and Simmons started to wonder if it was as much a comfort mechanism as it was a barrier from the chilly weather.
Jemma adjusted her tone to be more gentle. “We really don’t know much about each other for being in the same house all these years,” she admitted.
Fitz turned his head to face her, furrowed brow and a wry smile. That can’t be a comfortable position , Jemma thought, looking at him sitting in that chair all wrong, using an arm of it as a headrest.
“I know you’re a prefect, you come from a long line of Ravenclaws, you actually like homework for some inexplicable reason, you’re one of two students our year to receive all 12 O.W.L.s, you’re dating that loquacious, numpty jock, Oliver Wood-”
“ Was .”
“What was that?” Fitz sat up as best he could, chair cushion practically sliding out from under him.
“I was dating Oliver Wood. We couldn’t have a single stimulating conversation about any subject matter other than Quidditch. Unfortunately dull, especially for someone who talked as much as he did. I got bored, to be terribly honest.”
“Hmm.” Fitz rested his head back and draped his scarf over his eyes. Jemma was glad for this as she felt her face flush with embarrassment, feeling so exposed for not knowing anywhere near as much about her peer, whose grumpy wallflower demeanor seemed to leave him with few friends. And yet-
“Wait, you said I was one of two students to receive all 12 O.W.L.s in our year? Who was the other?” Jemma questioned, leaning forward in her seat.
Fitz lifted the scarf enough for her to see one eye just for a moment.
“Me.”
-
“Lumos,” Jemma whispered as she entered her pitch black dorm room, careful not to wake any other students, when she thought she heard a faint whisper in return and her illuminated wand disappeared from her hand, seemingly by no means of her own. She noticed a faint glow coming from under the covers of her roommate’s bed. “Did you just use Expelliarmus on me?”
“What were you doing out until almost 3am?” was the response.
“Oh, don’t lecture me when you’re still awake too,” Jemma said, continuing the cycle of dodging questions, sitting down on her own bed, and removing her headband. She rubbed her scalp gingerly, easing the headache of wearing such a tight headband for far too many hours this late into the night.
Bobbi Morse’s face appeared from the sheets. Dirty blonde hair, night owl tendencies, and a natural talent for Herbology, but a more overwhelming passion for Defence Against the Dark Arts. “You know I’m always up this late. You, however…”
Jemma let out an exasperated sigh and ripped off her shoes, too tired to even fully untie them first. Bobbi was right, she was typically back in the dorm and asleep by midnight. “I was in the common room planning for the Yule Ball with Fitz, but don’t try to get any event spoilers out of me. I will not disclose any information.”
Bobbi propped herself up on one elbow. “Come on, you also know I’m way more interested in Leo Fitz than some fancy party. That kid is so quiet around me, I think Lance is his only friend.” The hostility of her tone let Jemma know that her on-again, off-again Slytherin boyfriend was most likely off-again.
Jemma rearranged her pillows and reminisced, “I honestly think I heard him say more words in the past seven hours than the past seven years! He’s smarter than he lets on, that’s for certain, and also much kinder underneath that grumpy exterior and piled up scarf. I’m ashamed to admit I initially doubted McGonagall and Coulson’s choice to pair me with him...” she trailed off.
Bobbi gasped. “You like him, don’t you,” she accused with a smile.
“No! I- Whatever gave you that idea? I hardly know him, and, and I just broke up with Oliver-”
“If only I had just a drop of Veritaserum on me!” Bobbi laughed. “Not that I need it. You need to learn to lie better. I can read you like invisible ink with a Revealer.”
-
Jemma Simmons entered the Great Hall and anxiously smoothed out the wrinkles in her magenta gown. After hours and weeks and months of planning, she couldn’t believe the evening was finally here. She spotted Fitz leaning against a banister, in a head to toe cream colored ensemble, and a sort of cape draped from the stiff shoulders of his suit. His eyes met Jemma’s almost instantly, and he straightened up, pulling at the hem of his jacket nervously, searching for pockets to hide his shaking hands but not finding any.
“You look-” they both began in unison, and stopped just as abruptly. Jemma felt Fitz’s gaze travelling up and down her body.
“Really, um, really nice,” Fitz continued, finally finding those elusive pockets and allowing his shoulders to slump as his whole body bounced slightly with his nod. “You look good, is all.”
“Well you, my friend, look absolutely charming,” Jemma returned with a radiant smile.
“Stop it.”
“No, it’s true! Where did you find such an elegant ensemble?” She inspected the intricate threading and admired the thick, most likely expensive material, pinching the cape between her fingers.
“Oh boy, I’m feeling a bit peckish. No, rather, like I might throw up? Or pass out,” Fitz rambled before he let out an alarmingly shaky exhale.
“Take my hand,” Jemma said, intertwining her fingers in his with ease, as though they had done it a million times already, as though they were made to fit there. “For balance,” she quickly clarified.
The two made their way down the rest of the stairs, looking out over their handiwork. Ice sculptures, snow covered trees, twinkling lights… Jemma beamed with pride, while Fitz, well, Fitz looked about the way he had just described himself.
Another face at the bottom of the staircase matched Jemma’s: Albus Coulson. He placed a firm but warm hand on each of their shoulders, and the two quickly dropped hands, ever the epitome of professionalism in the presence of their headmaster.
“What a marvelous job the two of you have done here! The Great Hall is practically unrecognizable.” His kind eyes darted back and forth between Fitzsimmons and their decor, particularly the glowing house emblems and snowflakes that hovered overhead. “I honestly believed Gilderoy Lockhart was the only wizard to execute the holographic spell, but I dare say the two of you put his work to shame. Your two brains together,” he trailed off, his focus back in the air. His eyes twinkled- with magic? Or perhaps a glimmer of threatening tears? And he waved his hand speechlessly before his focus returned to the two young Ravenclaws before him. “Why, some might call it genius.” He winked, and made his way over to Melinda McGonagall, who seemed to be on the verge of one of her rare smiles. Perhaps Coulson could convince her to join him for just one dance this magical evening…
The first song had already come to an end, many of the tournament champions looking quite relieved that their required dance had come to a close, especially that poor Potter boy, and the dancefloor was now open to all. Somehow, Jemma noticed, Fitz’s hand had found its way back into her own. “Well, we’re halfway to correct waltz posture,” she said, holding up his hand in hers. “We might as well.”
The two made their way into the center of the floor. Jemma grabbed Fitz’s free hand and guided it to the curve of her lower back, and Fitz swallowed hard. His fingers tightened as Jemma moved to place her own hand on his shoulder, causing her to inhale sharply. They had spent the last few months growing closer but this, this was the closest they had ever physically been. Jemma could feel the heat radiating off of Fitz. He better not be seriously ill , she suddenly worried, but that thought left as soon as it had come the second the first note was played and the dancing began. One, two three, one, two, three…
Fitz stifled a laugh, causing him to trip over his own feet.
“What on earth?” Simmons retorted.
“Nothing, nothing,” Fitz mumbled. “You were just, counting out loud.”
“Oh, how embarrassing! Loudly?”
“No, no, not at all.” Fitz’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “One, two, three, one, two, three,” he began, significantly louder than Simmons had been.
The two counted aloud in unison and twirled, circling the other students, in a flurry of skirts and snowflakes, keeping perfectly in time with the waltz until they found themselves moving in slow motion in a darker corner of the Hall, floor to ceiling sparkling gold curtains dividing them off from the crowd. They rocked slowly, and Jemma’s arms had made their way around Fitz’s neck, completely abandoning any sign of proper waltz posture. Their foreheads were so close they were practically touching.
“One…” Fitz’s eyes were locked on Simmons.
“Two…” His grasp around her waist tightened.
“Three,” Simmons finished the count an instant before their lips met.
Months of hard work in the form of party decorations and euphoric young students disappeared around them. Jemma’s hands slowly moved from behind Fitz’s neck to his cheeks, pausing once at his ears before pressing her thumbs into his soft skin. Both of his hands had moved to the small of her back, and in that moment she felt more secure in his arms than she ever had anywhere else.
With a soft exhale, they pulled away. Fitz loosened his grip, revealing hands trembling without her body as an anchor, and his eyes remained closed for a moment.
“Fitz,” she whispered.
When he opened his eyes they were gleaming, a more fluorescent blue than the holographic magic in the air. He smiled just for a moment before leaning in to kiss her again.
-
The clock tower struck 11, and Jemma gasped. “It’s time,” she whispered, grabbing Fitz by the hand and running to the courtyard, as Coulson instructed all over students to follow suit.
“This wasn’t too ambitious of us, was it?” questioned Fitz, as they rushed outside.
“Oh, Fitz! No looking back now,” Jemma looked back at him with a smile, practically dragging him along for the ride. “It will be worth it, I promise,” she said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
The rushing crowd of students came to a halt, shivering in the cold. Boys removed their jackets and draped them over their dates’ shoulders, and they huddled together, looking up at the sky but unaware just what they were looking for.
They didn’t have to wait long. “Stella Cascadia!” Fitzsimmons exclaimed in unison, wands pointed toward the sky. The star shower spell worked perfectly, and students gasped in awe as meteors streaked across the sky.
“I knew we could pull it off,” Fitz remarked smugly.
“Sure you did.” Simmons rested her head against Fitz’s shoulder and kept her gaze on the sky. It really was something magnificent.