Ah thank you @richerthannoir I’m loving writing about Mia and Monty Potter (Minty) at the moment, so enjoy some Minty Hogwarts fluff!! As this is to celebrate a We Can Be Heroes reader milestone on ff.net, it’s a reminder that in that story, I did say I would do a backstory get-together fic for Mia and Monty and I will do it at some stage soon!!
How Many Detentions Will it Take?
“Well past curfew, you know, old thing,” Fleamont Potter said, leaning against the wall in a relaxed manner.
“Oh, I’m well aware, Potter.”
Mia’s hazel eyes twinkled and he shook his head and grinned back.
There was something about him, about his kind smile, his casual confidence and quiet positivity, that made her feel safe and excited, all at once.
“Are you not going to ask me what I’m doing out and about at this hour, Potter?” she smiled.
“Do I look like I want to know?” he said.
Mia laughed, her dimples showing.
“I’m willing to bet you and your fellow Buccaneers are up to something,” Monty said, idly twirling his wand.
“Oh never doubt that, Potter, The Five Buccaneers are always up to mischief,” she said. “You can take that as a given.”
“I’d rather not know the details,” Fleamont laughed quietly.
“Why’s that?” Mia asked, walking closer to him.
Their hands were practically touching. Mia’s strong, thick hair, cut in a bob (purposely, a muggle hair do, to cause outrage) shimmered gold against the torch light. Fleamont’s spectacles glinted, or perhaps it was his eyes shining, she couldn’t tell.
“I don’t want to have to give you detention,” he said.
“That’s cute, Potter,” she said, still smiling. “You gave me five detentions last month.”
He snorted and shook his head at her.
“That’s ‘cause you gave me no choice,” he said. “Almost like you wanted me to catch you red-handed.”
“Almost like I wanted you to catch me,” Mia repeated, her eyebrows raising theatrically. “Who knew?”
He didn’t say anything this time, just ran his teeth over his lower lip and laughed. She was quite sure she had managed to rile him up a little bit. But it was so hard to know, he was uncommonly good at appearing unperturbed. In fact, even now, she wasn’t sure he was even remotely interested.
“You Hufflepuffs are a menace,” he said eventually, running his index finger along the groove of the stonework. “Others always underestimate you.”
“You underestimate us at your peril, Potter,” Mia said, with a brazen wink at the tall, dark-haired chap.
He looked away as he smiled, bashful, just for a split second, and when he looked back at her there was something so pleased, so adoring, in his gaze, that her hopes rose. Maybe he wasn’t quite as nonchalant as he wanted her to think.
“I said others,” he replied.
His voice had dropped, lower, warmer.
“You’d think you’d have learnt your lesson by now, seeing as I’m always beating you on the Quidditch field,” Mia added.
She was almost embarrassed by her outrageously blatant teasing, her outright flirting. Almost. She did not do embarrassment. It wasn’t in her vocabulary.
His face took on a more confident grin, this was their usual banter, during inter-house games.
“You wish,” he said lightly.
“Gryffindor Seeker and Head Boy. Not bad, Potter,” she said, beaming up at him.
He was so much taller than her.
“Hufflepuff Captain and Rogue Buccaneer,” replied Fleamont, leaning his foot against the stone wall. “Not bad yourself.”
“Ha!” she grinned mischievously. “Pity my parents don’t think so.”
He sounded astonished. But then again, his parents weren’t obsessed with pureblood nobility and the likes. Sure, the Potters were purebloods, but they didn’t appear to give a toss about such drivel as Sacred Twenty-Eights and other daft nonsense. Everyone knew it. In fact, despite being a very old and reasonably well-off family, they managed to remain on the outer fringes of respectability and quite outside pureblood elite circles. Lucky bastard. She was quite sure she had heard her father talking about what a disappointing, pathetic man Fleamont’s father was. It made her like Monty all the more. Just like she loved that he never called her by her surname.
“No. Hufflepuff was literally the worst House I could have chosen,” she said, determined to keep a light tone. “My parents think it’s the losers’ House. They were mortified. They said if I had been in Ravenclaw, they’d have accepted it, if Slytherin wasn’t an option. Gryffindor would have infuriated them, but there’s plenty of purebloods in your House. Mine is where most misfits, as my parents would call it, end up. You know – muggleborns and the likes.”
She rolled her eyes derisively.
“I’m sorry,” Fleamont said, genuine concern in his tone.
“Yeah, so am I,” Mia said.
She looked away pretending to fasten her cloak so he couldn’t see she was a bit upset. Only a bit.
“Anyway,” she said, after a pause, hoping he didn’t notice the tremor in her voice. “I don’t care. My father and I have never really gotten on. It doesn’t bother me what he thinks.”
Fleamont had been looking at her, tentatively, both feet back on the ground, one hand now scratching the back of his neck.
“I think my mum is proud of my Quidditch skills, but she’d never say it to me. The only time I hear from them is when I’ve gotten into trouble with the Professors. A Howler from my father. You’ve probably heard them.”
She wrinkled her nose and made a disgusted face, her laugh coming out all watery.
“A lot of them,” he said, smiling back.
“They don’t seem to deter me from getting into mischief.”
She smiled and looked away again, her wand tracing haphazard patterns in the air.
“My father has already decided who I’m going to marry, you know…”
“Oh?” he raised his eyebrows marginally.
“Yeah, some creep called Casper Carrow, a committed pureblood, a Ministry of Magic official,” she said. “He’s nearly ten years older than us.”
She knew he had seen her shiver.
“Dad says I better change if I know what’s good for me, or the Carrows may decide to pull out of the agreement,” she said.
This time she looked at him, really looked at him, and he could see worry and resistance in her eyes. He stepped closer to her.
“I hope you never change, Mia, not like that,” Fleamont said.
He looked so sure, his grey eyes were burning, and she felt so much better when he was close to her.
“So, you like me, Monty?” she said, biting her lip, hoping she looked as confident and debonair as ever, that he couldn’t see the vulnerability hidden behind it.
He continued gazing into her eyes, steadfast, and brought his two hands to rest lightly on her shoulders.
“Of course I like you, Mia, you daft thing. I like you, an awful lot,” he said quietly.
“You do?” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes and wrapping her hands around his neck, pulling his face down closer.
“I do,” he said, his whole face lighting up now.
“Oh thank Merlin, I was resigning myself to daily detentions for the rest of the year, hoping you might get the gist,” she grinned, all traces of sadness disappearing.
“What gist is that?” he asked, teasing, his lips practically touching hers.
“That I like you back, an awful lot,” she said, radiant and triumphant.
They kissed, long and slow and full of hope, under the dim torchlight, bursts of tiny stars shooting from the tips of their giddy wands.
Arranged marriage? Minty Minty fluff Mia & Monty Potter Hogwarts fluff
