Day 29 + 30 - "Strip Wizard Chess & Emotional Vulnerability"

Day 29

They met where it started.

Same bench. Same rain-kissed courtyard. Same ridiculous ache in her chest.

But this time... Ches came on her own.

No audience. No plan. No armor.

Just her, damp curls clinging to her cheeks, rain dripping from her cloak, heart pounding like it hadn't gotten the memo that she wasn't here to cry again.

Draco was already there, hunched slightly forward with his coat folded across his lap, eyes on the sky like he'd been waiting for something.

Or someone.

Their gazes met.

And for once, there were no smirks. No clever comments. No sharp-edged deflections.

Just silence.

Just them.

"I'm not here to hex you," Ches said softly, her voice barely cutting through the drizzle.

Draco blinked. "Good. I'm mostly out of working limbs."

She let out a small laugh that cracked somewhere in the middle.

"I'm just..." She exhaled, running a hand through her soaked hair. "I'm tired, Draco. Of pretending I don't care. Of pretending you didn't get to me."

He sat up straighter, careful, like one wrong move might make her vanish. "You... care?"

"I did," she said. Her eyes flicked away, then back again. "I do. That's the problem."

Slowly, cautiously, she stepped forward and sat beside him.

Not across from him. Not three feet away. Right there—where their knees brushed, where her presence filled the space between them like a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding for weeks.

The rain whispered between them.

"I was cruel," Draco said finally, voice low. "Not just after the kiss. Back then too. When it really mattered. I should've said something. Should've stood up for you. But I didn't. I let Pansy twist everything, and then I let myself believe it was easier to forget than fix it."

Ches didn't speak. Not yet.

"And this time?" he continued. "I told myself the kiss didn't matter. That ignoring you would protect me. That it would undo whatever... this was. But it didn't." He swallowed, gaze locked on the stone at their feet. "You kissed me, and I've been trying to act like it didn't wreck me ever since."

Ches's throat tightened. Her fingers dug into her cloak.

"I didn't trust you," she whispered. "I told myself you'd hurt me again. So I tried to beat you to it. To be detached. Untouchable."

She gave a quiet, humorless laugh. "Spoiler: I'm not."

Draco turned his head toward her slowly. His expression wasn't smug. It wasn't composed. It was raw.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

Ches stared at her hands. Then at the curve of the sky above them. "We stop playing."

"No more bets?"

"No more tests."

"No more trying to win?"

She met his eyes. "Not unless it's at something that actually matters."

He let out a soft breath that fogged the air between them. "Like what?"

"Like... trust. Or—" Her voice caught. "Us."

For a long moment, he didn't move.

And then, carefully—like he was afraid she'd bolt—he leaned in. Slowly.

Their foreheads met first.

His hand hovered near hers, not touching. Just close enough to feel the electricity still humming between them.

They stayed like that. Breathing in the space they'd never let themselves have.

And when their lips finally met—

It wasn't rushed.

It wasn't a dare.

It was hesitant. Soft. Like a question neither of them had dared to ask until now.

And the answer?

Was yes.

When they pulled back, eyes fluttering open, Ches spoke first—barely a whisper.

"If we end up fighting again..."

Draco raised an eyebrow, just the faintest glint of his usual charm returning. "We will."

"Then can we at least make it sexy?"

He huffed a breath, smiling for real this time. "Only if you promise not to flip the wizard chess board again."

"Hey. That knight had it coming."

He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together with a quiet confidence.

"No more games?" he said.

"No more lies," she replied. "Unless we're lying about how weirdly hot that kiss was."

He grinned. "Then I'll deny everything."

She leaned into him just enough to bump shoulders.

"Strip wizard chess?" she offered sweetly.

"Oh, obviously," he said.

And this time—neither of them looked away.

▕⃝⃤ 9¾

Talia looked up from her Transfiguration notes just in time to see Ches float—float—into the dorm like she'd been personally serenaded by a choir of enchanted violins.

She was soaked from the lingering drizzle, curls clinging to her cheeks, cloak half-buttoned and probably backwards, but none of that mattered.

Because her face?

Radiant.

"You better not say a word," Ches declared, cheeks flushed, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she flopped face-first onto the nearest bed with a muffled "ugh."

Talia arched a brow, biting back her grin. "Say what, exactly?"

Ches rolled over dramatically, arms splayed like she'd just survived a duel and been reborn. "I like him."

"I told you you like him."

"I hate that you were right."

"And yet here you are," Talia said, shutting her book with a snap, "glowing like a jellyfish on Valentine's Day."

Ches grabbed the nearest pillow and lobbed it across the room without lifting her head.

Talia caught it easily, flopping onto her own bed with a satisfied grin. "So? What happened? Did you confess? Did he confess? Was there rain? There was rain, wasn't there. You're always dramatic in the rain."

Ches giggled into her blanket. "He was already there. Waiting. No smirks. No comments. Just... him."

Talia's eyes widened. "Did you kiss?"

A beat.

A longer beat.

Ches's voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes."

Talia shrieked into the pillow.

Ches just grinned harder, cheeks nearly glowing. "No more bets. No more games."

"Wait. Like, no more games games?" Talia asked, suspicious.

Ches hesitated. Then added, ever so innocently, "...But maybe strip wizard chess."

Talia stared. "I will never look at a rook the same way again."

Ches dissolved into laughter, muffling it against her sleeves, her whole body light like she'd just set down the weight of the entire castle.

For the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Or—at the very least—

It felt like a start.

▕⃝⃤ 9¾

Day 30

It was a rare sunny day at Hogwarts, the courtyard buzzing with students, laughter, and floating parchments enchanted to display Quidditch rankings.

Ches was leaning against the edge of the fountain with Talia and a few others, animatedly retelling the story of Peeves stealing someone's entire robe mid-flight, when the crowd's chatter dipped—just slightly.

Enough to be noticed.

Enough to make her spine tingle.

She turned—already knowing who it was.

Draco Malfoy. Cutting through the courtyard like he owned the wind. White shirt crisp, tie crooked (which meant he'd dressed in a rush), and sleeves rolled to the elbows like he was about to commit a war crime in Latin.

He didn't slow.

Didn't glance.

Didn't hesitate.

He walked straight up to her, to her, while half the school watched—

And took her hand.

Firm. Certain. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ches blinked. "Draco?"

He didn't say anything right away. Just looked down at her hand in his, then up into her eyes.

"I'm done pretending I don't want this," he said, voice low but steady. "If anyone has a problem, they can duel me."

Someone nearby gasped. Someone else choked on a cauldron cake.

Talia was whisper-shouting "WHAT IS HAPPENING" behind them.

But Ches didn't hear any of it.

Because she was too busy being pulled forward—just slightly—into a kiss.

Soft. But sure. This time, not in secret. Not behind a corridor or under cover of rain.

This was seen.

And when they pulled apart, still close, Ches couldn't help the wicked smirk that curled on her lips.

"Took you long enough."

Draco smirked back, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. "Had to end with a bang, didn't I?"

She arched a brow. "You planning fireworks next?"

He leaned in again, whispering near her ear. "Only the kind that get us another week of detention."

Her heart practically somersaulted out of her ribcage.

And as the courtyard erupted into whispers, gasps, and at least three dropped pumpkin pasties, Ches laced her fingers through his and said—

"Bring it on, Malfoy."