Severus placed the last book onto his shelf, aligning it with meticulous precision. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of distant enchantments woven into Ilvermorny's walls.
The dorm was more spacious than Hogwarts' shared rooms, but the silence felt oddly unfamiliar. No distant chatter of Slytherins, no looming threat of the Marauders, no Lily Evans walking away.
He allowed himself a moment to breathe, taking in the warm lighting and spacious dormitory. It was different from the cold stone walls of Hogwarts—cozier, modern, yet rich with history.
Then the door slammed open.
Severus turned sharply, wand instinctively twitching toward his sleeve.
The boy who strode in didn't seem to notice—or care.
Tall, tan, and absurdly confident, he moved like someone completely at ease with himself. His dark hair was carelessly tousled, his shirt slightly unbuttoned as if formality was a mere suggestion.
His new dormmate had bronzed skin, dark wavy hair that fell just past his shoulders, and a perfectly chiseled jawline that would make even a Veela pause. He exuded an effortless confidence, moving like someone who had never experienced a moment of doubt in his life.
His trunk landed on the floor with a thud, a self-enlarging enchantment bursting apart its neatly packed contents. Robes, textbooks, and at least three bottles of fine Italian wine rolled onto the floor.
The boy barely glanced at the mess.
"Salve, compagno di stanza!" The words rolled off his tongue like silk. "You must be the infamous Severus Shafiq I've been hearing so much about."
Severus raised a brow.
Infamous? He had barely arrived.
The boy strode forward, hand extended.
"Alessandro De Luca. Half-Italian, half-American, full-time connoisseur of life's pleasures."
Severus did not take the offered hand.
Alessandro chuckled, unfazed. "Stoic. Mysterious. Nice touch."
Severus sat back in his chair. "You talk a lot."
"I'm an excellent conversationalist." Alessandro threw himself onto his bed with a satisfied sigh, hands folded behind his head. "You? I suspect you're the type to brood in the moonlight, contemplating the tragic weight of existence."
Severus rubbed his temple.
This was going to be a long year.
Alessandro sprawled across his bed like a lord at leisure, one ankle resting over his knee.
"So," he said, glancing at Severus with lazy amusement, "how many hearts did you leave broken back in Britain?" Chapters first released on noⅴelfire.net
Severus didn't look up from his book. "None."
Alessandro sat up, scandalized. "None?"
Severus turned a page.
Alessandro exhaled dramatically. "Mio Dio. What a tragedy." He leaned forward, eyes shining with mischief. "Don't worry, compagno. By the end of the year, I'll make sure you truly live."
Severus met his gaze with a flat expression. "I'd rather not."
Alessandro grinned. "That's what they all say at first."
Severus gave him a flat look.
Alessandro laughed outright. "Oh, I like you already, compagno. So mysterious, so brooding. It drives people mad, you know?"
Severus resisted the urge to hex him.
Severus learned more about Alessandro in the next ten minutes than he had about most people in a year.
His mother, a pureblood witch from the Noble House of De Luca, came from a long line of famous potioneers and enchantresses. His father was a high-ranking MACUSA official, the type of man who "would prefer if Alessandro took life more seriously."
Alessandro was infamous at Ilvermorny. Not for dueling. Not for academics. But for breaking hearts—witches, wizards, he did not discriminate.
Though he acted like a careless flirt, Alessandro was shockingly intelligent, particularly in Alchemy, Charms, and Transfiguration. "I learn what I like," he said with a lazy shrug.
Loud. Shameless. Absurdly confident. A walking disaster with an unnerving amount of charm.
As Alessandro continued chattering about past conquests, Ilvermorny gossip, and his personal ranking of the most attractive witches in the school, Severus realized something important.
This was going to be a long year.
He had dealt with James Potter's arrogance, but Alessandro De Luca was an entirely different breed of annoyance.
Where Potter was an entitled Gryffindor brute, Alessandro was a refined charmer—one who lived for chaos, flirtation, and amusement.
Severus couldn't deny that beneath the dramatics, Alessandro was sharp. He noticed things most people ignored, and his knowledge of Ilvermorny's social hierarchy and hidden secrets could prove useful.
So, for now, Severus tolerated him.
Alessandro tilted his head. "So, tell me, Severus. What's your tragic backstory?"
Severus closed his book with deliberate calm. "I don't share my life with strangers."
"Ah," Alessandro said, nodding sagely. "So you do have one."
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.
Alessandro grinned. "Don't worry, amico. I'll crack your mystery eventually."
Severus stood. "I'm going to explore the castle."
"Good idea." Alessandro leaned back against the pillows. "While you do that, I'll unpack."
Alessandro's belongings were still scattered across the room.
He looked at the mess. Looked at Alessandro.
Severus left without another word.
This was going to be a long, long year.
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I'm aware that the name 'Alessandro De Luca' might sound quite stereotypical. However, since I'm not very familiar with Italian names or culture, I chose it based on names I've come across in books, movies, and other media I've encountered.
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