Later in his room we sat watching a film while the dragon (or wyvern, as Hagrid would have been quick to point out, and indeed Sergius was too, considering it was bipedal) perched on top of the television. I took Sergius’ perfume vial and sprayed it lightly, above and from a distance, over the Ironbelly. It shivered, enjoying the scented shower, and Sergius laughed.
“There. Now it smells like you, too,” I said.
“What do you mean, too?” he countered. “Does it look like me?”
I shrugged playfully and giggled.
“Sometimes when you’re asleep and you snore, I feel like I’m sleeping next to a dragon. All grumbly and hot.”
He laughed. “Am I that scary?”
“Yeah, you kind of are. But I like you.” I touched the moonstone on my chest as he leaned in for a kiss.

We spent the next few days relaxing, eating; going for trips over the archipelago with Grønn. On the weekend before New Years Eve we walked back into the village to find presents for his parents. I wanted to get them something magical; something interesting from me, but this was a muggle town and as Sergius had pointed out before the last wizard shop had closed years ago.
“I could do something for the house - you could cast a construction spell and add another room, or a hallway or something-”
“They don’t like stuff like that. Nothing that messes with the things they’ve had to work hard to earn.”
I hung my head and thought hard, almost biting through the skin of my lip. Then I had a great idea, but didn’t know what I could do for it.
“Tisha,” I declared. “I want to do something for Tisha.”
“Really? Like what?” He said in a skeptical surprise.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Sergius furrowed his brow as his eyes scanned the town. After a minute of thinking and silence I spoke with mischievous trepidation.
“We could always buy something ordinary and alter it with magic and not tell them we did…”
Sergius looked to me with a ‘not bad’ kind of approval and nodded his head.
“Well forget buying something, then. Let’s just find some piece of junk for free and you can do whatever you want with it.”
By the end of the day we’d transformed an old crate from the Moonbloods’ garage into a plush little sofa bed with a glittering mesh canopy topped with a crown. The velvety bottom of the lounger read ‘Queen Tisha’. Sergius’ parents were taking Grønn into Longyearbyen for a party at some friends’ house on New Years Eve, so we gave them the gift just before dinner, placing it in the living room beneath the half moon table with the mirror, just to the right of the kitchen. We couldn’t force Tisha to sit on it, but since we’d stuffed it full of dried catnip from Mrs Moonblood’s summertime garden, we knew she would eventually claim it on her own.
“Vi kjøpte den i en magisk by i London før vi kom hit,” Sergius explained to his parents, and I gleaned that he was telling them we’d purchased it in Diagon Alley at a Magical Menagerie for pets. His father seemed suspicious that it was enchanted, but thankfully after much prodding and examining, he was pleased.
“Tisha is princess of this house,” he said to me, “she think we are just servant.”
I laughed and his parents thanked us for the gift, then were off after a brief dinner of spiced mutton and potato soup called ‘sodd’. Sergius sighed as the sound of Grønn crunching along the snow faded away.
“Finally,” he said, sinking down onto the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table.
The sun had long ago dipped below the horizon, and we were left alone in the living room lit by lamplight; the fire in the kitchen dying down into glowing embers. As he relaxed I thought about how much time we’d spent here and the train back home to Hogwarts. We would be leaving the day after tomorrow. I felt I’d accrued a new sense of home, or at least a contrasting one. Even when I thought of that night we stayed at the Leaky Cauldron, it seemed more home now to me than anywhere else. Sergius had become my new home. I would miss sleeping next to his dragon-like form when we’d returned to our separate houses and dorms at school.
“So,” Sergius spoke up from his spot on the couch, “what do you want to do tonight? We’ve got the whole house to ourselves, or we could go out to the village for a bit. What are you thinking, beautiful?” I shrugged and looked abashedly down at my feet.
“What time will your parents be back?”
Now it was his turn to shrug. “Probably late. You’ll be passed out by then, if I let you.”
I giggled and looked past the lighted Christmas tree to the frosty window outside.
“We could go to the village for a bit, and then come home and hang out.” He nodded and agreed.

The festivities in the village, when we finally reached it, were more dramatic than that of Christmas: all the shops were still open and lighted; small children still awake and racing through the cobblestone streets, trailing toboggans behind them.
We admired the display for a bit, then Sergius led me into a pub of sorts, set up like a cafe but serving strong herbed liquors in green glass bottles. I ordered a butterbeer before remembering this was a muggle village and it wouldn’t be available. Sergius jumped in to translate for me.
“En flaske akevitt og en brus juice å jage, kan.”
I looked at Sergius suspiciously, especially after we were handed two different bottles of a strong scent by the barman, and headed to find a seat.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you get sick,” Sergius said. “But you have to try this, it’s the best.”
The liquor was horrible, and even after downing the entire bottle of cider he had provided to eschew the taste of one sip away, it still lingered on my tongue. I was wary of kissing him after he'd drank half the bottle and was pressing closer to me at the table we were seated. Even after just the one gulp I felt my cheeks redden.
"Come on, just try one more time and then we'll leave."
I crinkled my nose and ordered a pitcher of water to help me chase it down. The second helping made the lights in the village blur as we walked home hand in hand.
As the door swung shut behind us in the house, Sergius had begun kissing me, his hot tongue mingling with mine before I could even kick my boots off. I eventually had to break free of his mouth and bend down to undo the laces. He stepped up behind me and held my hips gruffly in his hands, pressed his cold jeans against me. I almost stumbled forward but managed to maintain my balance long enough to stand back up straight and step out of my snowy boots.
The last thing I saw before being ushered off willfully to Sergius' bedroom was Tisha, perched comfortably on her little queen lounger, gazing up at me with those wide, terrified eyes.
I tripped back onto the bed as my legs were swept out from under me, the darkness of the room illuminated only by moonlight glinting off the snow; glowing through the window.
It was more than I had hoped for, and I fell asleep feeling complete.
When he woke up in the morning he pressed against me again; ran his hands up and down my body; woke me with the same urgency as the night before; whispering my name over and over again: “Candie”.
We laid naked in his bed afterwards, the Christmas movie playing on the television set again, laughing. Suddenly Sergius interrupted our leisurely lie-in.
“I love you,” he said.
A grin broke out across my face quicker than one ever had and I whispered it back to him almost as soon as the words had left his mouth. Giggling and kissing, the film and all the surroundings in the world became ignored.
I was reluctant after to get dressed and pack for the next day; the trip home to Hogwarts. We would feel like smitten strangers again, then.
Mrs Moonblood was busying herself by spending as much time with her son as she could manage, following him around the kitchen and engaging in long conversations with the both of us at the same time.
“Når kommer du hjem for sommeren? Vil Candie kommer på besøk? Kanskje du kan komme for påsken også hvis du er tillatt på den nye skolen. Du kan sende meg brev nå og bilder, ta din fars kamera,” she prattled on. Sergius’ father made an offhand comment against something she’d said from the kitchen.
“Jeg gir ikke ham ingenting. Han har magi, hva trenger han kameraet mitt for?”
“Hysj, du være stille. Drikk te,” she shushed him.
I found my attention drifting towards Tisha seated preciously on her little couch. We were one and the same in this household. Neither of us could understand anything.
“Jeg har ikke tenkt å komme hjem for påsken,” Sergius said. “Og jeg vet ikke om sommeren ennå. Kanskje vi vil reise, Candie har noen venner i Romania.”
His mother turned to me with an impressed smile.
“Oh, Candie, you have friend in Romania?” I furrowed my brow. Every time I thought I’d figured out or at least had a clue what they were talking about, something completely random was thrown in. I stuttered in response.
“Oh, uh, n-not really, my friends Fred and George have an elder brother who works at a dragon sanctuary in Romania. I just mentioned it to Sergius because he likes dragons and maybe he could work there this summer. I don’t know.” I may have spoken too quickly because she immediately looked to Sergius to clarify.
“Det er for arbeid, ma,” he replied simply.
“Sergie like to go to different places in summer,” his mother continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “It is the only time I can see my baby but he come home and just say, you know, ‘Oh Mama hello I am going off to Ukraine now goodbye’,” she laughed. He shook his head and turned to me.
“They go travelling every year, but I’m the bad guy cause I want to go somewhere besides the same island I spend the entire school year on.”
I smiled.
“I’ve never travelled anywhere. My friend from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic has family in Monaco, so I’ve been a couple times, but otherwise I’ve barely ever left the United Kingdom. Besides now, of course.”
His mother finished a gulp of her tea and looked at me with concern.
“It is good to travel, you know, but Sergie he never come home, I get lonely.”
“Hva med ham?” Sergius said with smirk, motioning to his father who was pacing around the kitchen, eating cold leftover sausages out of the pan from breakfast. She made a dismissive gesture with her hand and Sergius laughed.
“Hvilken tid er toget i morgen? Når har du å forlate?” she asked him.
Sergius nodded to me. “When should we leave tomorrow, Candie?”
“Well the Hogwarts Express train from King’s Cross Station is at eight thirty and we’d have to take the muggle underground all the way from Diagon Alley, so…” I made an apologetic face toward Mrs Moonblood who sighed.
“Ok, ma, må vi til slutt får klar, ikke bekymre deg, jeg vil være tilbake for sommeren. Og jeg vil sende en ugle,” Sergius said to her, standing up from his cushy seat on the sofa.
He took my hand and pulled me to my feet, dragging me away down the hallway. I plopped down on the rug before my open suitcase as soon as we’d entered his room.
“Can we watch a film while we pack?” I asked, looking up at him as he stood next to me.
“Okay beautiful. But a new one, no more Nosferatu or Home Alone.”
I smiled and nodded, and began to carefully fold my leggings and sweaters together into a sort of basket that could hold the delicate satin of my Yule Ball - or, as it were, Christmas Eve - dress.
Then my hand came upon a hoodie pocket that held my wand. I hadn’t used it since the last time we took out Grønn. It felt so surreal to think I’d be going back to the life I’d become so used to over the past three years of wizard schooling - although I was still, unchangeably, excited about my new courses and learning more magic again. Especially since I’d seen the kind of spells Sergius could perform, almost effortlessly. He’d undone the tented ceiling construction spell for his father without uttering a word. I’d never even seen a professor do that, besides when Flitwick admitted sometimes his voice was so quiet when he mumbled ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ that his first year students didn’t realize how loudly and clearly they really needed to say it. The charm could backfire quite explosively that way.
The film we were watching as Sergius combed through his room, looking for anything he might want to take back with him, had a lot of loud muggle rock and was based around two friends who had their own television show. Explaining to me what that was took almost as long as it did for him to pack. He squeezed a few t-shirts and an extra pair of jeans into a small bag and then added a paperback book, the cassette player with the headphones, and a hairbrush. When I’d finished arranging my suitcase I buckled it closed again and then went to take a shower, drying my hair afterwards with a quick spell from my wand.
“Capillos Siccum.”
“Aw, I wanted to see it wet,” Sergius pouted when I sat next to him on the bed, my long locks instantly drying into the tangled mane I’d long ago stopped trying to manage.
One year when I was little, Nora brought me to visit at Beauxbatons for some sort of social dance, or tea or something, and she said I wouldn’t be allowed to attend unless I combed out my hair and wore the powder blue dress and cap that was the school uniform. I was fine with the outfit, even if I preferred not to wear a cape and gloves all day, but when she tried to pull a brush all the way through my hair - there was a lot of tears involved. And screaming. Neither from me. Nora’s hairbrush snapped in half at the handle and I was ashamedly brought out among her friends with the cap sitting atop my now extremely frizzy tresses. Sergius combed through his hair multiple times a day, but it wasn’t nearly as long or tangly as mine was. It was soft and smelled of the perfume his mother had given him every year for Christmas.
We said goodnight and goodbye to Sergius’ parents that night as we would be leaving by Floo powder very early in the morning, stopping at the Leaky Cauldron for breakfast before continuing on to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
Waking up in the morning I was sad to go, and squeezed Tisha extra hard, only setting her free when she scratched my arm, and bid adieu to the cold tundra outside; to the colourful little muggle buildings of Longyearbyen, and to the ruins of castle Durmstrang.
Sergius assured me Grønn would still be there the next time I came to visit. I liked the way he said that.
We were ready to leave abruptly and so stepped into the fireplace, taking a handful of glittering floo powder each from a small jar Sergius kept next to the hearth. I had his staff back in my pocket, wand-sized, and suitcase in hand, just the way we’d arrived. This time, we both called, “Diagon Alley,” and were soon swirling through space into the ash of Flourish and Blott’s.
We moved away quickly, knowing it would be busy with people coming back in after the Christmas holidays. As soon as we hit the streets of the wizarding shopping area I took in a deep breath, watched witches in cloaks skirt by; caught a glimpse of Ollivander’s and sighed.
“Come on, beautiful,” Sergius said. “Let’s go get something to eat.”
I led the way out of Diagon Alley and through the back of the Leaky Cauldron where Tom, the barman, was cheerful as always. I ordered an herbal tea, croissant and some spicy sausage links while Sergius had a full irish breakfast with eggs, beans, sausages and hash browns of the like. I had to rush him as I usually allotted plenty of time to navigate the London underground before he reminded me that he was, indeed, a muggle, and he knew how such things worked.
It felt different to ride the subway again, and I thought back to the ways everything had changed since we had taken it over a week ago. Returning to Platform Nine and Three Quarters was busy, and we pushed past the families saying goodbye to quickly stow away our luggage and board the Hogwarts Express on our own. We found an empty compartment near the front of the train and slipped into it quietly: we would be the first ones off once back home at the castle. As we settled in, watching out the window as the rest of the crowds drew in, I suddenly became impatient to be back - even if it meant Sergius and I wouldn’t see much of each other anymore. I was restless.
The train ride was quiet and uneventful, with Sergius napping steadfastly most of the way. When the trolley of sweets and sandwiches came around I bought a swirled taffy wand and some sherbert lemon gumballs to while away the time; I still had all the money I’d taken out of Gringott’s the previous week. I saw an undeniable glimpse of red hair pass by our compartment a couple times, but was relieved the twins never barged in. I was feeling irritable, and it was unusual for me to be so incapable of hiding it. I felt something was wrong.
Occasionally Sergius would wake up with a snore to stare out the window or tell me to try falling asleep, but I’d never found the train so uncomfortable. I couldn’t wait for the castle to be in sight and yet it made me sad to think that with our new timetables, we may not be able to see each other much anymore. It rattled around in my mind until I couldn’t stand it anymore and needed to speak about it with him; needed to be reassured. I needed to know.
I moved across the way to sit next to Sergius, instead of across on the cushy seat, and laid my head on his shoulder; shook his arm gently.
“Wake up,” I whispered. “I need to ask you something.”
He was unmoved, sleeping like a dog. I placed a soft kiss on his neck, in the spot I knew was ticklish, and his shoulder rose to prevent me from doing it again. I giggled. He put his arm around me and pulled me in as if to usher me into his dream-like state but I shook my head.
“No, come on. Wake up. You slept all night!” He made a low groaning sound, then his blue eyes opened to look at mine.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, jumbled through the yawn that racked him.
“Well, uh, I was just thinking about next term and...do you know your timetable?”
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Not yet. Why?”
“What if we don’t get to see each other as much?” I voiced my thoughts suddenly. He rested his head on top of mine, placed a kiss upon my hair.
“It’ll be okay. Don’t worry. Go to sleep.” I let him hold me as his snores started up once again, collaborating with the chugging of the train and the groan of the rails.
I watched the rest of the way out the wide window as the green fields of Scotland passed by and we approached closer and closer to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, embedded in the rock on the other side of Hogsmeade and the Black Lake, my body pressed closely to the warmth of Sergius Moonblood.