When Gabriel woke, it was to the soft crackle of dying embers and the faint, silvery glow of the enchanted stars across the ceiling of the Ravenclaw common room. His neck hurt - he had fallen asleep half-sprawled across the sofa, one arm dangling to the carpet - and his mouth was dry.
He was also having his cheek repeatedly stabbed by a rather cold and dainty finger.
He blinked groggily, turning his head.
Luna Lovegood was crouched beside the sofa, her face a few inches from his, lips pursed into a dramatic pout.
"Hey," Gabriel croaked, voice still thick with sleep.
"You talk in your sleep," Luna said in a tone that was mildly accusatory.
"Yeah?" he asked, his voice brightening as he gave a lazy, unapologetic grin.
Luna puffed her cheeks, huffed, and yanked the blanket off him. Before he could protest, she jumped onto the sofa, practically onto his chest, making him cough as the air was driven away from him, and wrapped her arms around his torso in a possessive hug.
Gabriel barked out a laugh that echoed in the quiet room, pulled the blanket back over both of them, and slung an arm over her shoulders. Within a minute, his breathing evened out again.
Luna sighed contentedly, resting her head on his chest. "You're very rude," she murmured, already half-asleep herself.
He smiled faintly, eyes fluttering closed. "Yeah," he whispered. "I know."
And just like that, both of them drifted off again, warm in the dim blue light.
-~=~-
The weekend came, and with it, a dangerous thing: free time.
And Gabriel Moretti, as those who knew him in Hogwarts had long learned, had no idea how to behave when bored.
So, naturally, he decided to spend the entire weekend tormenting Hermione Granger.
-~=~-
Hermione had just finished her breakfast, chatting distractedly with Fay Dunbar about their shared Arithmancy class, when she noticed with some disappointment and surprise that Gabriel wasn't at the Ravenclaw table.
Odd.
She waved goodbye, gathered her things, and pushed open the doors-
A hand caught her wrist.
Before she could yelp, she was pulled sideways into the narrow gap between two massive pillars, the heavy door closing behind her with a muffled thud.
She barely had time to register the smell of smoke, leather and lavander before warm lips caught hers - brief, startling, and far too confident.
When he pulled away, Gabriel was grinning like a schoolboy who had just stolen a biscuit.
"Morning," he said, his voice low and amused.
Hermione was frozen for a second, eyes wide, mouth parted in shock. Then color rushed to her cheeks.
"Gabriel-!" she hissed, glancing around wildly even though no one could see them.
He was already stepping back, hands raised innocently, giving her a wink and a grin.
"You- you!" she spluttered, giving his back a smack as he laughed and walked off down the hall.
-~=~-
It was quiet in the Room of Requirement - or rather, the version of it Hermione had turned into her private study-library. Rows upon rows of glowing shelves surrounded her, quills scratching softly on parchment as she took notes.
She was so focused on her self assigned essay that she didn't notice the shadow moving behind her until someone gently tapped her shoulder.
She looked to the side.
No one.
She looked up-
Gabriel's face appeared above hers, upside down, his hair hanging forward as he leaned over her chair from behind. Before she could scold him, he kissed her, light and quick, stealing her breath - and then was already pulling back, eyes sparkling.
Hermione just stared, her quill frozen mid-sentence.
She glared at him, but he could see the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
"You're incorrigible."
"Compliment accepted," he said cheerfully, already closing in again, her quill forgotten on the table.
-~=~-
It was early morning, and the dormitory was still wrapped in soft golden light. Hermione sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. Her hair looked like it had declared independence from gravity, and her pillow had a suspicious drool mark.
She yawned, stretched-
-and froze.
Gabriel was outside the window.
Floating.
On a broom.
He waved at her.
Hermione blinked. Then blinked again. She rubbed her eyes, frowned, and when she looked back - he was gone.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake-" she muttered, shoving her blanket aside and padding barefoot to the window. She leaned out, scanning the air.
Nothing.
And then, from directly below the window, a voice said cheerfully, "Morning, Mione!"
Before she could react, he leaned up, caught her chin with one hand, and kissed her.
"Gabriel!" she squeaked lowly, voice cracking halfway between scandal and laughter as he pushed off and flew away, laughing like a maniac.
She clutched the windowsill, her face blazing, torn between outrage and giddy disbelief.
When he glanced back, she was leaning out the window, shaking her fists at him and trying not to wake her roommates - but there was unmistakable joy in her eyes.
-~=~-
Later that afternoon, Hermione was sitting under the shade of an oak tree, a pile of books pilfered from the Room of Requirement beside her and Crookshanks - the fluffy orange kneazle half-breed she had gotten during the break - sprawled lazily across her lap. The air smelled of grass and old books.
Gabriel appeared behind her without a sound, crouching low until his face was level with the book she was reading.
"'The Hidden Geometry of Flowers'," he read aloud. "Romantic."
Hermione jumped, nearly dropping the book. "Merlin's beard! Gabriel!"
He grinned. "Couldn't resist."
Before she could lecture him, he leaned forward and kissed her temple - soft, fleeting, tender.
She opened her mouth to scold him again, but the words got lost somewhere in her throat. He was already walking off across the courtyard, hands in his pockets, whistling.
Crookshanks gave a low, judgmental "mrrrrow."
Hermione sighed. "Don't look at me like that."
By the end of the weekend, Hermione had decided two things.
First, Gabriel Moretti was an unstoppable menace.
Second… she didn't really mind.
-~=~-
Gabriel was sitting at the Gryffindor table, happily buttering a slice of toast without really looking at it, and by consequence making an absolute mess,
"Merlin's beard," Michael Corner muttered from his seat in front of him him. "That's terrifying."
Gabriel, still absently staring past his friend, asked. "What?"
"This... Thing, on your face." He answered.
Gabriel raised a dirty bandaged hand up to his cheeks, smearing them in butter.
"My smile?" He asked drily.
"Yes." Michael agreed and gave him a look somewhere between suspicion and amusement. "See, that's the thing - you smirk a lot, you laugh a lot, and you smug more than anyone I've ever met. But a full-on smile like that? That's new. And you've been like that for days. Doesn't it hurt your face? Should we be concerned? What got you like that?"
Gabriel blinked, barely registering him. His grey-white eyes were fixed on the Gryffindor table, where Hermione was doing a poor job of pretending she wasn't glancing back every few seconds. Each time their eyes met, her face flushed, and she quickly looked away.
Across from them, Padma folded her arms with a knowing smirk. "I think I can hazard a guess," she said, following Gabriel's gaze.
Michael turned to look too, and his eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Ohhh."
Padma leaned in with a mock-serious tone. "How much to keep this off the rumour mill, Moretti?"
Without missing a beat, Gabriel replied, "Depends. What's your price?"
"I'd ask you to finally teach us that Patronus Charm you bragged about at the Welcoming Feast and seems to have forgotten about," she said sweetly. "But I can't, in good conscience, do that."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"
Padma nodded toward the Gryffindor table. "Because if you stopped staring for two seconds, you'd see Lavender's already caught the way you and Granger are looking at each other. And she's whispering to Parvati about it right now."
Gabriel groaned, dragging a hand down his face, but his grin refused to die. "Fantastic."
Padma smirked. "Don't worry. Your girlfriend-" she teased, drawing out the word like a blade "-despite having the biggest brain in Hogwarts, seems to be just as oblivious as you are. She probably won't notice."
Across the table, Luna stabbed her fork into her breakfast so hard the plate rattled.
-~=~-
The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs later gathered for Defense Against the Dark Arts, filing into the classroom - only to be met by Professor Lupin's genial smile at the door.
"Good morning, everyone," he greeted warmly. "No need to sit down - our lesson today will be a practical one. Follow me, please."
As they shuffled into the corridor, Gabriel called out cheerfully, "What are we fighting this time? Pixies?"
Laughter rippled through the class.
Lupin chuckled. "Not quite."
He led them through several turns and staircases until they stopped before the staffroom door. When he opened it, Professors Bathsheda Babbling and Aurora Sinistra were already there, speaking in low tones.
Bathsheda looked, as always, like a witch who could be any age between forty and a eighty - which for a muggle woman would be mid-thirties. Her maroon robes shimmered faintly in the torchlight, and a pointed hat sat perfectly balanced over her midnight-dark hair. Beside her stood Aurora — tall, composed, and radiant, her dark skin catching the golden gleam of her star-and-moon jewelry. Her braids framed a face that managed to be both regal and fierce, her black turtleneck and sharp suit jacket making her look more like a duelist than an academic.
Gabriel did his best not to look directly at her.
He felt distinctly uncomfortable at the prospect of being near the woman he had been crushing since he was eleven now that he was dating Hermione.
'Dating?' he thought suddenly, frowning slightly. 'Well, we've been… kissing… and she kissed me first, so… that counts, right? Should I… ask her out properly? We can go to Hogsmeade this year. That's what boyfriends do, right?'
He blinked, his frown deepening. 'Should I get her a ring? No, that's too much. Or… is it? What if she doesn't even want to be my girlfriend? I mean, I've been kissing her all weekend, but she hasn't actually said-'
"Riddikulus!"
The shout broke through his spiraling thoughts like a thunderclap.
"That's right!" said Professor Lupin, his expression brightening. "Very good. Except for- Mr. Moretti, correct? You seemed a little distracted. Did you listen to the explanation?"
There was no sting in his tone - no reprimand or sarcasm. Just a genuine question.
Gabriel blinked, his brain instantly kicking into overdrive.
'Riddikulus is a rather niche charm used to combat-'
"Boggarts, yes?" he said quickly, his words tumbling out with practiced ease. "Sorry, sir. I was a bit distracted - but we'll be learning to deal with Boggarts today, right?"
"Precisely," Lupin replied with a small, approving smile. "And I happen to need a first volunteer. Could you step up to the role, Mr. Moretti?"
"Sure," Gabriel said, smirking as he stepped forward - though, privately, he wondered with some growing dread what would be his greatest fear. He never faced a boggart, or a 'bicho-papão' as they were called back in Brazil when he was a child. His mum detest the things.
As he approached, the wardrobe began to rattle violently, the hinges creaking like groaning bones.
"Do you know the spell?" Lupin asked calmly.
"'Riddikulus,'" Gabriel said, mimicking the wand motions without actually invoking it.
"Good," Lupin nodded. "Now - what would you say is the thing that scares you most in the world?"
Gabriel hesitated, holding his chin thoughtfully before sighing. "Honestly, sir? I have no idea. Probably seeing my mum and my friends dead."
A murmur rippled through the class.
"Understandable," said Lupin quietly, and there was a deep sincerity in his tone. "In that case, it's quite possible they will appear as corpses, walking toward you - or lying dead at your feet. How would you make that something you could laugh at, Mr. Moretti?"
Gabriel tilted his head, a grin forming. "Have you ever seen Thriller?"
Lupin blinked. "I… can't say that I have."
"It's a music video," Gabriel said, eyes gleaming. "By one of the biggest Muggle singers in the world. Zombies dancing. I'd make them do the choreography."
Lupin chuckled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Well, that's quite creative. And you can keep this image firmly in your head?"
Gabriel flashed him two thumbs up, one still holding his wand. "Oh, definitely."
"Wonderful." Lupin turned to the class. "Now, if Mr. Moretti is successful, the boggart is likely to shift its attention to each of us in turn. I'd like all of you to take a moment and think of the one thing that scares you most - and imagine how you might make it look… comical."
A rustle spread through the group as everyone focused, some frowning in concentration, others already nervous. The wardrobe gave another shudder, louder this time, as if the creature within were growing impatient.
Gabriel tilted his head, a thought forming. "Actually, Professor - does Occlumency affect the boggart's ability to discern someone's fears?"
Lupin blinked in visible surprise. "You know the Mind Arts?"
"A bit," Gabriel said with a modest shrug, his expression easy. He wiggled his hand side-to-side in a so-so motion.
That earned a quiet laugh from the professor. "Well, I suppose that's to be expected from Dumbledore's apprentice, hm? But I'm afraid not, Mr. Moretti. The boggart doesn't read thoughts like a Legilimens would. Its magic works on a rather different principle than legilimency. You don't need to be aware that you even fear a thing for it to work, after all, much less think about it."
Gabriel frowned faintly, the easy smile slipping just a little. "Right."
Lupin gave the class a moment to quiet down, his voice steady as ever despite the faint tension Gabriel caught behind it.
"Ready, Mr. Moretti?"
Gabriel nodded once. "Ready."
Lupin stepped backward, raising his wand and gesturing for the others to do the same. They retreated until they were pressed along the far walls of the staffroom.
"On the count of three," said Lupin, wand aimed at the handle. "One… two… three - now!"
The spell hit the lock with a metallic clang, and the wardrobe burst open with a thunderous crack that made half the class flinch. A cold wind rushed out, carrying with it a faint smell of damp earth and iron.
Gabriel took a steadying breath.
Despite what he said, he actually prepared himself for many possibilities.
He'd imagined seeing the chamber where he was created - the homunculus womb that had birthed him, this time with no one there to sacrifice themselves for him.
He'd imagined Eloá - his mother - staring at him with loathing, her body shriveling away as she cursed him for killing her.
He'd even imagined Hermione turning away, eyes cold, calling him a monster.
He had not needed to prepare for what actually stepped out of the dark.
At first, it was just him.
The same broad shoulders, the same outline.
But as it emerged, the details began to twist - wrong in ways that made his stomach turn.
The figure stood taller than him, twice his size, the crown of its head brushing the ceiling. Its skin wasn't skin at all but a seamless sheath of black, like cured leather slick with oil. Its hair - long, tendril-like - spilled down its back in writhing strands.
The eyes were what froze him: scleras as dark as pitch, irises glowing a cruel, cold white.
And its mouth - too wide, too full of teeth. Fangs like tusks, jagged and wet, stretched into a monstrous grin. Blood glistened on its lips as it chewed lazily on something.
It took Gabriel a heartbeat to realize what it was.
An arm.
A small arm, pale, familiar - fingers delicate and ink-stained.
Around one of those fingers was a silver ring. The very one he had imagined giving Hermione minutes ago.
His own heart simply… stopped.
The room vanished. He couldn't feel his hands, his feet, or the faint flicker of the Bluebell flames he always carried over his head. They sputtered out entirely, leaving him in freezing stillness.
The creature that was him tilted its head, smirking wider, and with a guttural swallow devoured the entire arm in one motion.
Gabriel's stomach twisted violently. He wanted to scream - or to vomit - but no sound came out.
Then:
"Now, Mr. Moretti!" shouted Lupin.
His voice snapped Gabriel back to the world.
Right. This was the classroom. This was a boggart.
His pulse slammed into overdrive, pounding in his chest like war drums. The burn returned - his blood turning to molten iron, his breath steaming in the air.
A slow, humorless sneer crept over his face.
"Professor Lupin," he said, his tone calm - too calm. His hands trembled as his nails lengthened, shredding through the linen wrappings around his fingers. His gums itched as his fangs pushed forward, pressure building behind his eyes until his vision sharpened, colors shifting. "Boggarts are amortal, right? They don't die - because they were never alive to begin with."
Lupin, who had been raising his wand again, hesitated. "Yes…" he said warily.
Gabriel's grin widened. "Good."
The word came out wrong - warped, deeper, his voice carrying that same echo it had when training with Helena under the Draught of Rage.
The boggart tilted its monstrous head, its bloodstained grin mirroring his own. Then it moved - one heavy step forward, the ground cracking beneath its heel. Its hair lashed like whips.
And then, before anyone could blink, it was gone.
A deafening crash erupted as the creature slammed through the wardrobe behind it, shattering its wooden frame and embedding itself into the stone wall. The entire room shook. Shards of wood and stone dust rained down.
When the dust cleared, Gabriel was standing where the boggart had been - breathing slow and heavy, neck rolling to the side with a bone-popping crack. His eyes gleamed white against darkened sclera.
"So I don't need to worry about breaking it."
With that, he tore the last of his bandages off, strips of linen falling like ash to the floor.