6. Chapter 6

Finn does a double take mid-yawn when Rey enters the Gryffindor common room on Friday morning. "Er—"

"Surprise!" Tallie and Jess chorus, gesturing at an extremely self-conscious Rey as if they're a pair of sculptors unveiling their latest joint masterpiece.

Finn stares, dumbstruck, as do his roommates who have filed in out of the boys' wing behind him.

Rey's already regretting this.

She doesn't even know how to begin describing what Tallie's done to her hair. It's loose, hanging a little past her shoulders, parted more to the right. Tousled— "for that just-got-out-of-bed-look," the other girl had proclaimed, although Rey's pretty sure that her natural just-got-out-of-bed-look leans toward "ravaged by angry chipmunk" rather than "woke up at six in the morning to carefully not style every strand into place." A few sections have been slightly curled, too, so that glossy brown waves frame her face.

Which— her face.

Jess had taken the reins here, poking and prodding with brushes and tubes and tiny sticks until Rey no longer recognized the person goggling back at her in the mirror. Her eyes have been dramatically accentuated with smoky black liner. Her lashes are an inch longer than they used to be. Her cheekbones are— sharper, somehow. And on her lips shimmers the barest touch of peach-pink gloss.

"Blimey, Rey," says Gandris Dyun, "you look like— like a girl."

"Gandris!" Tallie chides. "For your information, Eurydice has always been a girl. I'm just happy she's finally embracing it."

"Better you than me, mate," Jannah mutters to Rey, elbowing through the small crowd that's at a standstill by the portrait hole. Rey watches her leave with no small amount of envy.

The truth of the matter is, Rey no longer thinks this is a good idea. She'd just wanted to... catch Solo off-guard, or something. Not that Tallie and Jess know that— they hadn't needed any reason to fuss over her, the request for hair styling tips a slippery slope into the uncharted territory of makeup. Her face is heavy with the various liquids and powders that have been smeared all over it, her own hair an alien thing that she has to resist the urge to tuck behind her ears or push away from her neck.

"Who're you getting all fancy for, Niima?" hoots Elliver Olim, and Rey can only hope that Jess' CC cream— whatever that is— is thick enough to hide her blush.

"She doesn't need to look nice for anyone but herself!" Jess snaps at Elliver, outraged. "Now, if you're all done being children—" She and Tallie place themselves on either side of Rey, looping an arm through each of hers and escorting her in that manner out of the common room.

✨✨✨

Rey receives a lot of stares all throughout breakfast. She hates it. She knows it's more out of novelty rather than her suddenly becoming drop-dead gorgeous, and she can't even retie her hair into its usual three buns or get rid of the cosmetics until the day is over because people will definitely laugh then— and Tallie and Jess would be pissed off after all their hard work.

She'll just have to power through. Get today over and done with and never attempt anything like this ever again.

To add insult to injury, Professor Solo barely even glances her way when she enters his classroom. He's in waistcoat again, a checked dark gray number, its matching jacket hanging off the rack by the windows. The floor has been cleared of desks once more and he's in the process of rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt.

Rey vows that she won't stare at his forearms as they're exposed bit by bit, but it's really hard going.

"Good morning. Pair up and find a spot where you can stand ten feet across from each other and five feet away from other pairs," the D.A.D.A. instructor says as soon as the clock on the wall marks the start of first period exactly. "You have thirty minutes to attempt to land a nonverbal Stunning Spell on your partner while they try to nonverbally shield against it. Then you'll switch roles for another thirty minutes."

Oh.

Rey hates it whenever this happens.

Finn and Rose pair up, of course, and all around her everyone does the same while she waits for another person to have no choice but to pick her. Seff Hellin probably might've, but according to the other Ravenclaws he's in the hospital wing with a bad case of the mumblemumps.

The waiting is worse this time, because Rey's becoming more and more convinced that she resembles a clown who got into a pub fight.

There are no words to describe her humiliation when Solo starts looking around from the middle of the chamber, where he's casting expansion charms to give the seventh years more space to spread. "There are nineteen students here today, so I'll be the one to partner— ah." His gaze lands on her. "Miss Niima."

His expression is totally inscrutable, totally disinterested. She wants to cry as she walks over to him. She's always been the odd one out, and today she's the odd one out and she looks like a fool with raccoon eyes.

"If you do manage to stun your partner," Solo addresses the class as he and Rey take their positions, "wake them up with the Reviving Spell that we covered last month, then try again."

Merlin, Rey can't help but think, imagining Madame Kalonia's thunderous expression if she ever hears about this.

Without further ado, the duels begin. Solo nods at Rey from across the distance between them, which she takes as her cue to be the one to go on the offense.

The incantation for the Stunning Spell is Stupefy. She silently wraps all of her focus around this word as her arm lashes out in the prescribed movement, and red light bursts from the tip of her aspen wand.

Professor Solo shields himself with an ease that carries over into the next several minutes. At the periphery of her vision, more than a few people are dropping to the floor. Are being revived by classmates who look pleased with themselves and then nervous as their partner vows revenge. Some spells miss their target, crackling as they're absorbed into the warded walls and floors.

So it's not like the room is completely quiet, which only makes how quiet Rey and Professor Solo are being stick out all the more.

It's like the two of them are alone together in their own silence. No matter which angle she attacks from, no matter how fast she is, he's always faster, he's always able to anticipate her next move. Her red light crashes into his invisible barrier again and again and again, until sweat is dripping into her eyes.

The makeup that Jess had so carefully applied is surely running by now. Rey can feel it melting off her face.

It was a bad idea. It always had been. It's not like he cares.

He's her teacher. She's just a kid.

"Time," Professor Solo calls out after half an hour has gone by with Rey utterly failing to hit him at all. "A couple of pointers— I noticed that most of you are being too predictable. Don't attack from the same position twice in a row. In a real fight, you'd be leaving yourself open to a counteroffensive. As for the ones who are supposed to shield— you get hit because you don't move. Implement the footwork we went over. Defending yourself is as much about the physical flow of combat as it is about your magic."

Rey must truly be a rubbish opponent if he'd been able to observe the other pairs while she was trying to stun him. Before her soul can leave her body from the abject mortification of it all, he announces that it's time to switch roles.

Wonderful.

It's a miracle that Rey doesn't visibly gulp when Solo's dark eyes narrow at her in concentration. Quick as a whip, the Stunning Spell streaks through the air, barreling towards her. Protego, she thinks, to protect— protect me— and her hand is moving and magic is coursing down her arm and out the tips of her fingers and—

— and the red light freezes a hair's breadth from the tip of her wand, disappearing in a flash as it is repelled by an invisible force.

Wow. Rey blinks, surprised but rather happy with herself. I actually did it. I—

Another streak of red comes flying at her.

And everything goes black.

✨✨✨

She opens her eyes and believes for a moment that he's an angel. She's somewhat horizontal— she can see the ceiling over his shoulder— and he's peering down at her with the lights of the chandelier gilding the waves of his sable hair at the edges.

Then she remembers what happened, and she thinks that he must be a devil, after all.

Rey's not fully horizontal. Her legs are flat along the floor, yes, but the upper half of her body is at an incline; Solo's lifted her up slightly, his arm curved at her spine as he kneels beside her, his wand pointed at her chest. It's what's supposed to be done when performing the Reviving Spell, but the tip of the hard wood is grazing her breast and she absolutely cannot function.

Because it's his wand. And she feels like such a small, meek thing, draped over this giant of a man's arm. His broad shoulders are the roof of her world.

"Can you stand?" he asks.

No, she thinks. Carry me. Carry me around forever.

"I won't know until I try, sir," she replies out loud.

His lips twitch. His dark eyes flash. He gets to his feet, lifting her to hers so effortlessly that she could almost faint from it, could almost fall back down from how weak in the knees his strength makes her.

He steps back, and the moment shatters.

"Never let your guard down while your opponent still has their wand," Solo advises. "Also, perhaps you could tie your hair back. Keep it out of your face while you duel."

Anger boils up her throat, sudden and red-hot. The kind of anger that can only come from both frustration and embarrassment. She wishes she'd never met him.

He moves back into position and lets loose with another Stunning Spell. She shields, then implements the footwork, blocking his next attack. Rinse and repeat. Over and over again, the two of them locked in a strange, lethal dance. It's not long before she notices the glistening beads of perspiration dotting his brow.

No. She can't dwell on him working up a sweat. That way lies madness. That way lies her own downfall.

He gradually amplifies the power of his spells. They crash into her shields, obliterating them instead of getting absorbed. That's fine. She conjures new, stronger ones on instinct, moving counter to him. It is its own kind of meditation, this rhythm they've fallen into. There's the ghost of a smile on his face as he pushes her magic and her body to the limit.

Neither of them notice that they've edged into the space of the pair to Rey's right until she bumps into Korr Sella just as Korr's partner, Doran, fires off a Stunning Spell. Rey hurriedly shields against it, leaving her left flank open to Solo's attack that he'd inadvertently sent her way at the same time as Doran.

Rey sees Solo's face drain of color as they both realize that she's going to get hit. There's no time to dodge, no time for the prescribed wrist movement necessary to recast the Shield Charm. Rey can only point her wand at the oncoming spell and shout the first incantation that filters to the surface of her mind.

"Expelliarmus!"

The Disarming Charm jets out of Rey's wand, meeting Solo's Stunning Spell in a blaze of red light.

And the weirdest thing happens.

Rey's wand starts vibrating.

She couldn't have let go even if she'd tried. Her fingers have seized up around the carved aspen handle as it thrums like it's been injected with bolts of electricity. The scarlet collision of the two spells fades away and then her and Solo's wands are connected by a single thread of brilliant golden light.

Everywhere else in the classroom, duels grind to an unceremonious halt, the other seventh years gawking at the sight. More splinters of golden light shoot out from the connecting beam in every direction, forming a webbed dome around Rey and Solo and the space between them.

She doesn't know what's happening. She only knows what she has to do to stop it.

It's an instinct. It's what the magic is telling her to do.

In order to break the cage, she has to overcome.

Power surges from her fingertips. She pushes the connecting beam towards Solo, her nose scrunched up with the effort. Sparks run down the length of the golden thread until they envelop the tip of his blackthorn wand.

His eyes widen as he appears to realize what she's doing. And then he—

— lets it happen, resignation drawing his features taut.

There is a flash. Followed by the echoes of old spells curling through the air. This kind of effect, Rey is familiar with. The Auror hopefuls learned the Prior Incantato charm in sixth year, as it's a useful analytical tool for gathering clues and determining the guilty. The targeted wand is forced to reproduce the signature of the last spell it cast; here and now, though, within this dome of light, the results are magnified, showing what must be all the magic that Solo had performed today.

The spiky red signature of the Stunning Spell dances amidst nets of gold. Beside it is the soft silver mist of the Shield Charm. There's also the viscous blue swirl of a Calming Spell and a cloud-like purple signature that takes Rey a little longer to place— the reverse of the Supersensory Charm, it's a spell for dulling the senses. Finally, an arrowhead composed of black static that bears the distinct crackle of some form of Occlumency, the branch of magic that deals with walling off the mind and containing one's emotions.

What on earth had Solo used these last three spells for?

Before Rey can ponder this question any further, the effect lifts. Her wand stops shaking and all traces of the golden light disappear.

Her classmates are frozen in place, staring. The room's gone so quiet that Solo's low, contemplative tones are perfectly audible when he muses, "So that's what happens when twin wand cores attempt to duel. Needless to say, Miss Niima, our brief partnership is at an end. I'll reassign you next Friday."

✨✨✨

He asks her to stay behind after class again. She waves Finn and Rose off, then turns to face Solo, who's still standing in the middle of the empty room, meticulously rolling down his sleeves.

Rey is the first to break the silence. "You didn't fight it."

He quirks an eyebrow but says nothing, waiting for her to elaborate.

"When I pushed the magic at you," she clarifies. "You didn't... try to push it back, or—"

"I was uncertain what would happen if I did," he says, fiddling with the button on his cuff. She's seized by some crazy urge to walk over to him, to do it for him, but she stays where she is. "If you'd ended up getting injured— that would have required a lot of paperwork."

"More than if I'd injured you?"

"It would not have been my first magical injury."

She shouldn't read too much into his flippant choice of words or the carefully bland manner in which he says them, but she can't stop thinking about the last three spell signatures forced out of his wand. Calming. Dulling the senses. Controlling the emotions. It's as if all these dots are being handed to her on a silver platter but she lacks the ability to connect them.

In the end, Rey decides that it had been, in a way, oddly sweet of Solo to spare her from an unknown fate. Although he'd most likely just been doing his duty as a teacher.

"What did happen, anyway?" she asks. "It was similar to Prior Incantato—"

"I'll have to look it up. The subtle laws of wands are not my field of expertise. In any case, that's not what I wanted to discuss with you." He finally meets her gaze head-on. "I'd like to apologize for last Tuesday."

It all comes back to her in a rush— his massive body caging hers against the wall, the way he'd growled. Her mind blanks. "Sir?"

The line of his mouth tightens for a split second. Then— "My father's injury is something of a sensitive issue. We didn't have the best of relationships in the past, so there's a lot of baggage there. I reacted inappropriately when you brought it up. It won't happen again."

A tiny voice in Rey's head whispers that she wouldn't mind overly much if it did. She determinedly quashes it. "I'm sorry, too. For snooping. It was none of my business."

Solo nods. They're back to simply looking at each other, the air charged with an unfinished heaviness.

After a while, he clears his throat. "Your—" He motions vaguely— "your, ah, eyeliner..."

He trails off as Rey stares at him just completely crippled by panic. Sighing, he conjures a hand mirror and holds it up to her so that she can see her reflection.

The sweat from the duel has smudged her eyeliner something fierce. She looks like she'd been punched in the left eye and like she's weeping black tears from the right. The CC cream is streaking, too. Her loose hair is a fright, damp and scraggly and sticking up at odd angles.

She's definitely never doing this again.

To Solo's credit, he doesn't say a word as Rey hastily combs her fingers through her hair and pats it down into some semblance of order. He continues holding the mirror for her as she conjures a handkerchief and frantically rubs until all the makeup is gone.

Her skin feels raw afterwards. A fresh wave of unshed tears threatens to emerge. This is the worst day of her life.

Solo banishes the mirror. He studies her scrubbed-clean face with that usual twitch at the corner of his lush mouth. She braces herself for another sarcastic quip.

"There they are, Miss Niima," he says.

She gazes up at him, confused.

There's a softness in his eyes when he explains. It's a softness that makes her wonder if that smile of his that's trying to break free might be genuine.

"Your freckles."