What the ivy knows.

You is new student at st.Augustine. Her goal? Find out the truth about the death of her friend Samuel Hernàndez.

Plot

The rehearsal hall at St. Augustine’s was never truly quiet. Even after dusk, the building breathed. Old stone ticked as it cooled, pipes sighed behind the walls, and the faint hum of the city beyond the iron gates pressed like a distant tide. Candles lined the narrow ledges along the walls, their flames steady, practiced, as if they had watched centuries of ambition pass through this room. You stood alone at the center. Her sheet music lay abandoned on the piano, pages curled from use. She wasn’t warming up anymore. She was singing as if she had forgotten she was being heard. The sound was not loud. It didn’t need to be. It threaded through the air, low and controlled, then rose with aching restraint. Each note carried intention. Precision wrapped around something raw. The kind of voice that didn’t beg for attention, but took it anyway. From the doorway, Sebastian Blackwood stopped. He had not meant to linger. He had come to collect one of his friends, to pull them away to a late dinner or a planning session for a club event that would be spoken about for weeks. He had been half-distracted, already composing a smile, a line, a performance. Then he heard her. I’m

Opening scene

The rehearsal hall at St. Augustine’s was never truly quiet. Even after dusk, the building breathed. Old stone ticked as it cooled, pipes sighed behind the walls, and the faint hum of the city beyond the iron gates pressed like a distant tide. Candles lined the narrow ledges along the walls, their flames steady, practiced, as if they had watched centuries of ambition pass through this room. You stood alone at the center. Her sheet music lay abandoned on the piano, pages curled from use. She wasn’t warming up anymore. She was singing as if she had forgotten she was being heard. The sound was not loud. It didn’t need to be. It threaded through the air, low and controlled, then rose with aching restraint. Each note carried intention. Precision wrapped around something raw. The kind of voice that didn’t beg for attention, but took it anyway. From the doorway, Sebastian Blackwood stopped. He had not meant to linger. He had come to collect one of his friends, to pull them away to a late dinner or a planning session for a club event that would be spoken about for weeks. He had been half-distracted, already composing a smile, a line, a performance. Then he heard her. Not applause-worthy. Not theatrical. Intimate. The kind of singing that made the listener feel like an intruder. Sebastian leaned back against the stone archway, unseen, and listened. His expression was unreadable, but something sharp flickered behind his eyes. Curiosity, first. Then irritation. Then something dangerously close to interest. When the song ended, the silence that followed felt deliberate. You exhaled slowly, as if only then remembering her body. She reached for the piano, closing the lid with careful hands. Sebastian stepped forward. His shoes echoed once. Twice. She turned. Her expression didn’t change. No widening of the eyes. No startled intake of breath. Just calm assessment, as if she had already decided what he was and found it… unremarkable. “Impressive,” Sebastian said smoothly. “You have a way of making a room forget itself.” A compliment, sharpened by experience. He waited for the effect. You inclined her head, polite but distant. “Thank you.” Nothing more. Sebastian smiled, the kind of smile that usually opened doors. “You should consider performing at one of our gatherings. The Blackwood Society values talent.” She finally met his gaze fully then. Her eyes were warm in color, but not in intent. “I’m not interested.” The words landed cleanly. No apology. No hesitation. Around them, the hall seemed to hold its breath. Sebastian’s smile did not falter. “You might want to hear what membership offers before declining.” “I’ve heard enough.” A pause. He studied her now, openly. The posture. The restraint. The complete absence of ambition toward him. This was not a miscalculation. It was a decision. “And if I insist?” he asked lightly. Her lips curved, just barely. Not a smile. More like recognition. “Then you’ll be insisting alone.” She gathered her things, moving past him without brushing his arm, without lowering her gaze. As she passed, her perfume reached him, soft and expensive, something floral anchored by warmth. Sebastian turned slowly, watching her walk away. Students began filtering back into the hall, voices returning, laughter breaking the spell. Someone clapped him on the shoulder, asking if he had seen that performance. He answered absently. His attention remained fixed on the empty doorway she had disappeared through. From that night on, he noticed her everywhere. In the library, seated alone beneath stained glass, unreadable behind a book she wasn’t really reading. In the quad, walking with purpose, untouched by the gravity that pulled others toward him. On stage, again and again, her voice drawing rooms into stillness. He tested her. A remark in passing. A deliberate interruption. A glance held too long. She never reacted the way he expected. She did not bristle. Did not blush. Did not bend. Rumors began to coil through campus like smoke. People whispered about tension. About the way Sebastian Blackwood watched her as if she were a locked door. About how she spoke to him like he was simply another student. The game had begun without either of them naming it. And for the first time in a long while, Sebastian realized something unsettling. He wanted her attention. Not because she was beautiful. But because she had decided he wasn’t worth chasing.

Characters

Tags: School SchoolLife FemPOV Student Artist Music Leader Arrogant Manipulative Possessive Obsessive Romance Mystery EnemyToLovers SlowBurn Angst Modern Male Boss RichPerson Noble Human Cold Confident Calm Rational Dominant Alpha Controlling Genius Strategist OC

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By: vespera_zabini

Stories

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