Day 13: Chaos in Sync

Team duels were supposed to build trust, cooperation, and magical cohesion.

Clearly, Professor Tonks had never met Ches Wyenn and Draco Malfoy.

"Partners," Tonks chirped with all the joy of someone dropping a kitten into a lion pit. "Wyenn. Malfoy. Front and center."

Ches groaned audibly.

Draco grinned like he'd just won the House Cup.

They took their place in the dueling ring, facing off against two Ravenclaws who looked far too eager to turn this into a full-on spectacle.

"This is a terrible idea," Ches muttered, already cracking her knuckles.

"Terribly fun," Draco corrected, adjusting his sleeves. "Try not to fall for me mid-fight."

She rolled her eyes. "Try not to get hexed by friendly fire."

Their opponents struck first — twin bolts of hexlight zooming straight for them.

Ches instinctively raised a shield; Draco countered with a jinx that rebounded one spell straight into the other team's kneecaps. The crowd whooped.

Their movements — oddly synced.

A parry here. A dodge there. Magic flowed between them like it had muscle memory.

Ches ducked under his arm to fling a sparkling disarming spell.

Draco stepped into her blind spot and blocked a curse that could've turned her teeth into ferrets.

Their backs bumped once, twice. Fluid. Efficient.

"Okay," Ches panted, eyes narrowed, "when did you get... competent?"

Draco smirked, wand spinning lazily in his fingers. "Always have been. You just spent too much time pretending not to notice."

Their final combo move was unplanned. Unrehearsed. Somehow perfect.

Draco cast a wave of pressure that knocked their opponents off balance—Ches leapt forward and hit them with a blinding smoke burst, sending both Ravenclaws tumbling out of bounds.

Cheers erupted.

Tonks clapped.

Even McGonagall looked begrudgingly impressed.

Draco turned to her, windblown and victorious, holding out a hand like they were in the final act of some heroic play. "Told you we'd make a good team."

Ches stared at him.

At the crowd.

At the horrifying realization that they actually worked together.

Unacceptable.

She smiled sweetly.

Then hexed him.

It was nothing too dramatic. Just a minor shoelace-binding spell.

Draco yelped as he tripped forward, catching himself at the last second before he faceplanted into the floor.

"Oops," Ches said brightly.

The crowd lost it.

Draco turned, eyes wide in mock betrayal. "Wyenn—"

"Teamwork!" she called cheerfully, already walking offstage.

As she passed Blaise on the sidelines, he gave her a thumbs-up. "Pure poetry."

Back in the ring, Draco untied his laces with a muttered charm, watching her go.

She didn't see the smile he wore as he shook his head.

But the whole room did.

And the gossip would live on for days.

▕⃝⃤ 9¾

The corridor outside the dueling arena buzzed with leftover adrenaline and secondhand scandal.

Ches was halfway to the stairs when she heard the unmistakable sound of dramatic limping echoing behind her.

She didn't even turn around. "You tripped over your own ego. Don't blame me."

"I'm injured," Draco announced, louder now — clearly for the benefit of every passing student. "Sabotaged. Betrayed in front of an audience."

Ches finally glanced back.

There he was: one hand pressed over his chest like a war widow, the other dragging his wand against the wall as if it were a cane. His shoelaces were still mysteriously knotted.

"You hexed me after we won," he said, catching up to her with a completely unnecessary wheeze. "Is there no honor left in Gryffindor House?"

She crossed her arms. "You survived."

"I almost died. My dignity is bruised."

"Your dignity's been in critical condition since first year."

A third-year walking past snorted.

Draco gasped, affronted. "You're cruel."

"I'm strategic," Ches corrected. "There's a difference."

He grinned, still clutching his heart. "Admit it — you panicked. We were too good together. It scared you."

"I hexed you on purpose."

"Exactly. Panic."

She turned to keep walking, but he fell into step beside her like a very smug, very persistent shadow.

"I was charming," he added casually. "Flawless teamwork. Protective shielding. Maybe even... dare I say it—chemistry?"

She stopped.

Turned.

Poked him in the chest.

"You're impossible."

"And yet," he said, catching her finger mid-poke and holding it hostage between his hands, "you still keep letting me walk with you."

She yanked her hand back like he was contagious.

"I trip less when I'm near witnesses," she muttered, storming ahead.

Behind her, Draco's voice echoed with laughter.

"You're welcome, Wyenn!"

▕⃝⃤ 9¾

After the duel, Ches needed air.

Not just air—botanically filtered air. The kind that smelled like damp moss and existential dread. So, naturally, she wandered into Greenhouse Four, where magical plants were less likely to gossip and more likely to bite.

She wasn't even sure why she was there until she found herself aggressively misting a Fanged Geranium.

"You're lucky," she muttered to it. "You bite people and it's considered a growth trait. I hex one smug blond disaster and suddenly I'm the unhinged one."

The plant snapped at the spray bottle. She took that as agreement.

"Exactly. He's the one who—who shielded me from that third-year's fireball like some kind of enchanted knight. Then he winked like it was part of the plan. It wasn't! My plan was to emotionally ruin him!"

The geranium made a gurgling sound. Possibly judgmental.

"Okay, yes, maybe our magic synced well. Maybe too well. Maybe it was weirdly satisfying watching our spells flow together like... like some disgusting magical duet."

A loud ahem echoed behind her.

Ches spun around, heart stuttering.

It was Professor Longstem, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. "Miss Wyenn, are you... giving a lecture to my plants?"

"No," she said automatically.

The geranium bit her sleeve.

Longstem sighed. "Five points from Gryffindor. And please stop trauma-dumping on the flora."

▕⃝⃤ 9¾

By dinner, the story had evolved.

"Did you hear? They dueled together and then she hexed him because he confessed something and she panicked."

"No, he hexed her and she retaliated with a love spell that misfired."

"I heard they were holding hands during the shield spell. Holding hands."

Ches slid into her usual seat, face flaming as snippets of gossip hit her ears from every direction.

Across the room, Draco sat with Blaise, completely relaxed, wand-twirling like the day hadn't ended with a public magical betrayal.

He caught her staring.

And winked.

She nearly choked on her pumpkin juice.

Talia leaned in, whispering, "Do you see what you've done to the school? This is bigger than the glitter badge incident."

Ches hissed, "Shut up and pass the biscuits."

▕⃝⃤ 9¾

Ches didn't mean to end up in the quiet hallway near the Astronomy Wing. She'd just needed to walk off the adrenaline, the residual magic still humming under her skin, the way her hands wouldn't stop tingling after their spells had synced so perfectly.

She could still feel the shape of his magic against hers. Still see the look on his face just before she hexed him.

It wasn't her best moment.

She kicked at a loose stone on the floor and muttered to herself, "Stupid duel. Stupid smug face. Stupid—"

"Glad to know I left such an impression."

Ches nearly jumped out of her skin.

Draco stepped out from behind one of the tall stone columns, arms crossed, robes loose and wind-rumpled. The hallway lanterns caught in his hair, giving him that unfair moonlit menace look like he'd planned it.

Which—he probably had.

She straightened, fighting the warmth that rushed to her face. "Lurking now? That's a new low, even for you."

He gave her a lazy smile. "I wasn't lurking. I was walking. You're the one who looked like you needed a dramatic rooftop monologue."

"I was reflecting," she snapped.

"On how brilliant we were together? Or on how you hexed me in front of half the school?"

Ches crossed her arms. "You're not still mad about that."

"Oh no," he said. "Just emotionally wounded. My pride may never recover."

"You'll survive," she muttered, then hesitated. "...Probably."

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough to loom. His voice lowered, soft but dangerous. "You know, Wyenn... most people say thank you when their partner saves them from being roasted alive mid-duel."

She didn't move. "Most people don't smirk while doing it like it's foreplay."

He grinned. "It might've been foreplay."

She gawked at him, scandalized.

He turned to leave, only glancing back once — that damn twinkle in his eye.

"See you tomorrow, Wyenn."

She stood frozen for a beat, jaw slack, heart doing something traitorous in her chest.

Then, finally, she exhaled.

"Snake with hair privileges," she muttered.

But her voice had lost all its heat.