13. Chapter 13

Solo reaches for his blackthorn wand and flicks it in the air a few centimeters above Rey's stomach. "Scourgify," he mutters.

The puddles of cooling spend on her exposed skin disappear as neatly as if they were never there in the first place. She'd known that this particular cleaning charm was all-purpose, but until today she'd had no cause to consider its usage in mopping up... bodily fluids.

This is as good an explanation as any for the pink that spreads across her face. And Solo has to be rattled, too, if he'd been unable to muster sufficient focus to cast the spell nonverbally, but his expression gives nothing away even as he tucks himself back into his trousers.

His cock still looks heavy and thick despite no longer being erect. She's more than a little sad when it has been decorously hidden from view once more.

His large hands dart to her torso, tugging her bra back up and then fastening the buttons of her blouse with clinical precision. He looks so stern as he does this, while she is still all fluttery from the lingering glow of orgasm. The contrast makes her heart skip a beat. Her buttons seem so small between his fingertips.

They don't speak as he fixes her uniform for her. Not a single word is uttered until after she's sat up straight on the edge of his desk and he takes a step back, breathing in deep when she peers at him with a vague sort of expectation.

In the end, he picks up the invisibility cloak and hands it to her in a bundle of silver. "Miss Niima," he says flatly, "items such as these are highly regulated on school grounds—"

"I found it in—"

"I don't want to know," he cuts across. "I would prefer to not be an accessory to what I'm beginning to suspect is only one of your many crimes."

She scowls, all trace of post-orgasm bliss vanishing. "Bit late for that, isn't it?"

There is a spasm in the hollow beneath his eye. She can't understand how they got here when he'd been kissing her and coming all over her just a few minutes ago. Fury mixes with humiliation in the pit of her stomach.

This is the second time that this man has seen her at her most vulnerable and pushed her away.

She is tired.

"We shouldn't have done this," he finally says.

Rey hops off the desk. "Look, maybe it's the guilt that gets you off, I don't know, but you can't keep reaching for me and then pushing me away, sir," she chastises him, clutching the wadded-up invisibility cloak to her chest like it's the world's flimsiest shield. "I have a lot of homework, I don't have the time to keep getting twisted into knots because of you. It's not fun." Her eyes blaze as she warms to her topic. She has her pride, damn it, she is more than just a body to serve as both amusement and emotional punching bag. "If this is how it would end up all along, you shouldn't have kissed me in the Forbidden Forest. I've never done this sort of thing with anyone before and I don't believe I want to keep doing it if you're just going to treat me like I've got the plague until the next time you can't control yourself. So, if you can't make up your mind, I'm out. Bollocks to this."

Solo doesn't stop her as she leaves his office. He doesn't do anything at all, aside from letting her go. She can only reflect, as she stumbles down the winding flight of stairs, that she would have liked to be held.

Even just for a little while.

Just to see how it feels.

✨✨✨

A good majority of her righteous indignation has evaporated by the time night falls over Hogwarts. Now she's second-guessing herself. Had she been too pushy? It's like she's lost some sort of game because she hadn't known the rules.

Maybe Professor Solo had been relieved that she left before he had to be the one to let her down in no uncertain terms. He'd been attracted to her, no doubt, but maybe he'd decided that fantasy was better than reality. Maybe she's utter rubbish at kissing, or her bra is that hideous, or the sounds she makes had been too weird.

All of this is difficult to swallow but, then again, Rey's been swallowing hard truths all her life.

It's Friday evening and the scene in the dorm room is so normal that it makes her grit her teeth. Tallie and Jess are experimenting with hairstyling charms on the latter's bed while Jannah's idly playing with a Screaming Yo-yo purchased from a joke shop in Hogsmeade. The yo-yo lives up to its moniker at random intervals, which makes Jess laugh while Tallie shoots a supremely unbothered Jannah dirty looks.

Rey's at her desk, writing an essay on the theoretical basis for the limits of Transfiguration. Mothma is a notorious perfectionist when it comes to grading her students' essays, and Rey knows she needs to give this her best shot. But her brain is shot; every few minutes she finds herself staring into space for so long that ink dribbles from her quill and onto the parchment in unsightly dots, which she has to banish with the Scouring Charm, which of course makes her think of the way Professor Solo had used it earlier.

Cleaning up the come on her skin.

His come.

Rey groans, crossing her legs.

"You all right, Niima?" Jannah calls from across the room.

Shit, I was too loud. "Fine," Rey says, thinking quickly. "Bit of a funny stomach, that's all."

"It was the blancmange, wasn't it?" Tallie's blue eyes are wide and sympathetic. "Knew it tasted suspect— didn't I tell you, Jess—"

"You did," Jess confirms, "but you need to not move your head because this part's complicated..." Her wand sweeps through the air in an intricate twirl, and Tallie's copper locks are instantly manipulated into a gorgeously messy bun, a few strands loosened to curl softly around her face.

Preening, Tallie gazes adoringly at her reflection in a hand-held mirror. "You're an artist, Jessika."

"I really am. Now, let's see if we can add some highlights..."

Rey studies the two girls with something like envy. She's willing to bet that they never have guy trouble— they're both too beautiful and too sophisticated for that. They surely know all the right things to do and say in any situation, and it's a given that they don't have cheap bras with silly patterns or a penchant for sounding like a wounded cow during sex.

Maybe if I looked like Tallie or Jess— maybe if I were as glamorous— maybe he wouldn't have let me go.

Rey is shocked to feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Before she can decide whether to blink them away or hide her face from her roommates, Jannah's yo-yo lets out another bloodcurdling shriek as it spins around her wrist.

The sound startles Jess, who's in the middle of performing another complex-looking spell on Tallie's hair. She all but jumps out of her skin, the magic warping—

— and every single strand of Tallie's hair stands on end. Colored neon green.

Jannah bursts into uproarious guffaws, and Jess quickly follows suit while Tallie yells at them both.

Rey joins in the merriment. Not only does Tallie look extremely hilarious right now, but, this way, it's also easy to pretend that her tears are borne from laughing too hard.

✨✨✨

Headmaster Kenobi has an important announcement to make at dinner on Sunday night.

"A very good evening to you all, and happy December," he says when the Great Hall has quieted down in the wake of him getting to his feet. "This year marks the one thousand and twenty-ninth anniversary of our school's founding and, after talking it over, the faculty and myself have decided to do something special to celebrate. On the sixteenth, a week before your winter break, we will be having a little event— a party, if you will." Excited whispers ripple through the captive audience, and Obi-Wan smiles happily. "It is my great pleasure to invite everyone of you to join us at the Hogwarts Celestial Ball!"

The students cheer.

It is, indeed, a welcome spot of good news. Something to break the monotony of classes and homework.

"Formal dress is required and, of course, you may conscript a dance partner. The Shag Kava Band will be playing," Obi-Wan continues to even more enthusiastic applause. "The festivities will commence at six in the evening and curfew will be extended until..." He pauses for dramatic effect. "Half past eleven."

The applause immediately grows lukewarm.

Obi-Wan chuckles. "Now, now, it is going to be held on a school night, after all..."

As the headmaster drones on, Finn turns to his housemates. "Why commemorate the one thousand and twenty-ninth anniversary, though? Bit random, innit?"

"Nine's magically auspicious," says Doran Sarkin-Tainer. "There're nine deities in the Ennead of Heliopolis, nine Muses, nine worlds connected by Yggdrasil, nine Lords of the Night in the Aztec calendar— you get the picture."

"Who cares?" Tallie sniffs. Her hair had gone back to normal over the weekend. "A ball! Oh, this is going to be so fun— Jessika, we need to discuss our outfits so we don't clash in photo ops— our dates' colors must complement as well—"

Rey zones out, shoveling food into her mouth. She's markedly less excited than her peers; in fact, she's dreading the upcoming celebration. It's not like she has anything to wear, and she'd rather face a manticore again than spend her financial assistance on clothes.

Maybe it would be possible to sit this one out. Obi-Wan had invited rather than required them, after all, and Finn and Rose will obviously be each other's date so Rey won't have anyone to go with, anyway...

Unthinkingly, her gaze strays to the empty chair at the staff table. Professor Solo hasn't joined them for dinner, as usual.

She should probably stop caring about that.

✨✨✨

Rey tackles the first week of December with a heavy heart, going through the motions of everyday routine in an autopilot state and throwing herself into her coursework with a renewed frenzy.

On the upside, all her quizzes and essays come back spectacular.

On the downside, she kind of always feels like she's on the verge of tears.

There seem to be a lot more complaints about Professor Solo during this time. The seventh years won't have Defense Against the Dark Arts until Friday morning, but as early as Tuesday Rey overhears the younger students bemoaning about how something must have crawled up Solo's ass and died over the weekend. He's almost as bad as Hux now, apparently.

Rey wonders why this might be but she knows that she can't allow herself to hope. She'd given him an ultimatum; his silence and inaction had been answer enough. She wishes that she can stop thinking about him but he's always at the back of her mind, ready to surface whenever she's not plunged into the distraction that studying affords her.

Late Thursday afternoon, she's solving Arithmancy problems in the library, using a heavy old tome from the numerology section as her guide. She catches a familiar whiff of sandalwood over the musty smells of papyrus and vellum just as a shadow falls on her hastily inked equations.

She wills herself to obtain some measure of control over her racing pulse. "You're in my light, sir," she mumbles without looking up.

Professor Solo slowly moves away, but not as far as she'd have expected. Instead, she hears chair legs scrape across the floor, hears him taking a seat at the nearest table behind her so that they're back to back.

Even if the library weren't deserted at this hour, they're still hidden from view by rows of towering shelves. That doesn't stop Rey from darting furtive glances around the place, even though it would be a totally innocuous scene to an outsider who has no idea what she and her teacher had done with each other just last week.

Solo clears his throat. "Miss Niima," he says softly, before correcting himself. "Rey."

"Yes, what is it?" she asks in the breeziest tone she can muster.

It takes him a very long time to respond. "How— how have you been?"

She frowns down at her equations. The scratch of her quill fills up the silence. She imagines him sitting behind her with his customary tense, rigid posture. Has he cracked open a book or taken out some scrolls to give the pretense of working, or is he merely staring straight ahead? Rey grits her teeth against the temptation to look over her shoulder. To check.

"I'm busy." She has no idea where she's drawing this reservoir of coolness from, but she rather likes it. "As I said, I have a lot of homework."

"Yes." A hint of what could almost be fondness leaches into his tone. "I remember."

Then why are you bothering me? she almost demands, her temper flaring, but she desists because that wouldn't be cool and she is being cool. So she says nothing. Her quill scratches on, even if she's too inwardly rattled to actually understand what she's writing down.

She's pretty sure she's inventing a new branch of Arithmancy at this rate.

"Aren't you going to ask how I've been?" Solo has the nerve to quip, like the insufferable prick that he is.

Rey's eyes narrow, unseen by him. "How rude of me. How have you been, professor?"

She braces for a smarmy retort. Something sarcastic and flippant that will cut her down to size and remind her that, to him, she will always be just a kid.

"Not well," comes his somber response. "I've been miserable, as a matter of fact."

She blinks. Her quill continues moving across the parchment spread out in front of her, detailing what are bound to be incomprehensible proofs.

"Rey. For so long—" Solo clears his throat again. "For so long I tried to convince myself that I could stay away. Ever since the second meeting— when you produced a corporal Patronus nonverbally— I've been using Occlumency and all manner of spells to remain distant. Impartial. But you are..."

Rey gives him, like, five seconds to complete the sentence— which is already a generous amount of time given how she's practically about to float away on the clouds of both suspense and disbelief. "I'm what?" she demands.

"You're a fever," Solo says quietly. "One that I can't shake, even with all the magic at my disposal."

Rey finally stops writing, but she doesn't turn around to face him yet. There is a spark of hope lighting up her chest, but she's afraid of it.

Afraid of him, and of all the ways that he can destroy her.

"The last several days have been torture," he continues. His deep, smoky voice is cracked at the edges, as if he's forcing each word out. "I can't stop thinking about you. The way you kiss. The sounds you make. How beautiful you look when you..." He trails off, self-conscious, probably having no clue what he's doing to her with all this praise. She's sweating. She's clenching her thighs together. The quill is about to snap in her hand.

"I know it's a bad idea," he rasps. She can't see his face, she has nothing to go on but his speech, in this place of ancient books and golden lamplight. "Hell, it's probably the stupidest thing you and I could do. But you took me to task for not making up my mind, so here I am. I've made up my mind. If— if you'll still have me."

A lone tear of relief slides down Rey's cheek, splattering onto her equations. The ink hasn't fully dried yet and it runs, arcane symbols dissolving into smudges of soot and saltwater.

"You don't have to decide now," Solo tells her gently. "Sleep on it. I know at your age it's easy to think you've got the world all figured out, but this won't be easy. If you have even a shred of doubt, we don't have to. You are under no obligation. I just—" He stops again, and then sighs. "After the way I've treated you, I owe it to you to let you know where I stand. We can talk tomorrow, after class."

She hears him get to his feet. Hears him walk away, the slow pad of his retreat gradually fading, swallowed up by the oppressive quiet of the library.

✨✨✨

Rey spends the night tossing and turning in bed and, for once, it's not because she's a horny mess.

Or— well— that, too, but tonight there's also confusion and trepidation swirling around in her gut.

A trepidation that's dangerously close to excitement.

What will she say to him tomorrow? What will he say to her?

Could she really do it? Could she really have an affair with her professor?

An affair. Merlin. Even the word itself seems so delicious.

Like forbidden fruit.

She shifts again, restless. The bedsprings creak.

"Rey!" An annoyed hiss, coming up from out of the gloom. To her left, Tallie is sitting up, silhouetted in a patch of moonlight, nearly every single inch of her features caked with some kind of mud mask. "I can hear you thinking."

"Sorry," Rey tells her, abashed. "Can't sleep."

"Why not? Is something the matter?"

Rey hesitates. Even if she weren't the type of person who, with very few exceptions, kept to herself, she can't exactly take Tallie into confidence regarding this issue.

But there is something about a dark night, a quiet hour, and a person you've essentially grown up with. There is something about a lonely heart bursting with news too big for it to contain, and the instinctive, esoteric language of teenage girls.

"Tallie," Rey says in hushed tones, "have you ever wanted something but you were too scared to reach for it?"

"Yes, of course," Tallie immediately responds. "Like, you know I'm on the healer track, yeah? Well, loads of people were of the opinion that I'd never make it. You should've seen the look on Mothma's face at our career talk back in fifth year. Everyone thought I was too flighty to be a healer, so I had an— I guess you could call it a bit of a crisis? Jess knows all about that. But I really want to be a healer. Although a little voice whispers everyday that I'm just fooling myself, it doesn't mean I'll stop trying."

"You're still reaching for it," Rey concludes, "even though you're scared."

Tallie nods, a slight smile on her face. "That's what it means to be a Gryffindor."