Usually, Rey Niima only saw Ben Solo in the hallways twice a week, at the most. With his large, hulking body and ridiculously flowy hair, he was hard to miss. This was why when Rey began seeing Solo almost three times a day, everyday, she had the sinking feeling that the battle on the quidditch pitch, as Finn had taken to calling it, was far from over. Each time they passed, which had suddenly become far too often, she could practically feel his eyes dissecting her to pieces. She frequently had to withhold the urge to elbow him in the gut and ask him what hell his problem was.

"What's the deal with Ben Solo, anyway?" Rey asked as she plopped down at her seat at the Great Hall, snagging a piece of sausage from Finn's plate and gulping down a full glass of pumpkin juice. Across the room, all the way at the Slytherin table, she could see his eyes narrow, and she wondered whether those large ears of his had some sort of supersonic hearing.

"You know there's unlimited sausage here, right?" Finn muttered while moving his plate away from Rey's grubby hands. Rose opened her mouth, though she was immediately shushed. "Please, Rose, it's too early in the morning."

"You didn't even know what I was going to say!"

"Well?"

Rose stared blankly for a moment. "Uh."

"Insightful," Finn commented. "As for Solo? I heard he's part dementor. Sucks people's souls straight from their bodies—Don't say a word, Rose!" Rose pouted silently.

"Checks out. I do feel awfully dreadful whenever I catch sight of him. Which, by the way, is apparently all of the time now." Rey sighed as she snagged the syrup and doused her entire plate, eggs included. "How many accidental run-ins can you have before it officially gets called stalking? Because as of this past week, it's been at least sixteen, and I am starting to fear for my soul."

"Talking about Ben Solo? Don't worry, he's harmless," Poe Dameron said as he joined the fourth-years. "Probably just trying to intimidate you for the next quidditch match."

"Our next quidditch match is against Hufflepuff."

"Huh," Poe considered. "Well, nevertheless. Solo's more dramatics than anything else."

"Hasn't he tried to behead you on multiple occasions?" FInn supplied.

"Dramatics, Finn. Dramatics. I knew him when we were little, you know? He was a completely normal kid; no moody brooding or anything. Normal family, normal upbringing, normal everything. Lived down the street from him. We got along fine," Poe sighed. "But when he came to Hogwarts? I swear, Professor Snoke brainwashes them all. Wouldn't even talk to me. But is he a mass murderer intent on stealing your soul? On that, I'd wager no."

"I dunno, Poe," Rey supplied with a wicked grin. "I've got a pretty tasty soul."

"You would, I'm sure," said Poe with a wry smile. "Still, like I said before: Ben was 100% normal until Snoke and the rest of the Slytherins decided to muck him up. Maybe he really is just attracted to that delicious soul of yours, Rey."

"Can't say that's particularly comforting," Rey muttered while popping a final pastry into her mouth. "Speaking of the bane of every Gryffindor's existence, any advice for a potions' essay on hiccoughing solutions?"

"You mean, do I have my old essay from two years ago?" Poe said with a wink. "Unfortunately, no. I torch all my essays at the end of term."

"Peanut, that assignment's due tomorrow morning," Finn said. "You really haven't started? Are you trying to tempt Snoke into searing your body over an open flame? Do you want all of Slytherin house to start digging your grave? Maybe you're looking forward to being dismembered and carefully added to a shrivelling solution?"

"Stop being gross! I'll get it done later," Rey laughed while shouldering her bag and snagging her broom, an outdated Cleansweep with bristles so bare that at first glance it looked more like a pile of kindling rather than respectable quidditch gear. It had been her prized possession since she'd helped the groundskeeper, Chewbacca, clean out the quidditch shed back during second year. It wasn't much, but after a few well-placed charms and a bit of handle-polish, it flew well-enough, if maybe a bit bumpy when taking turns too sharply.

In less than a second, Rose's hand shot out and snagged Rey's broomstick from her hands before she could head out the door. Poe whistled in appreciation.

"You might make a good seeker," Poe muttered under his breath.

"No broom," Rose stated plainly, handing Rey's raggedy Cleansweep over to Finn with a perfunctory nod. "Library. Now."

"Yes, Mum," Rey groaned. "Finn, you coming?"

"Mine's done, Peanut. We completed it ages ago."

"Can I-"

"Young lady, get your butt to the library before Rose and I sick a howler on your arse!" Finn held his hand to his chest in mock concern. "We'll proofread later, okay?"

"Ugh. You guys are the worst pretend parents." Conceding defeat, Rey snagged one final piece of sausage from Finn's plate, waving it above her head in a sign of victory, before heading to the doors. She grinned as she finished it off, wiping greasy fingers against her jeans while starting to ascend the staircases. Rose and Finn had been her closest friends since they'd been corralled into the same train compartment during first-year.

Finn and Rose, along with the guidance of Rose's older sister and Rey's quidditch idol, Paige, had been monumental for navigating the ins and outs of Hogwarts as a naive muggle-born with little understanding of the magical world. Sure, Finn's uptight, pure-blood family had created difficulties during the first summer when Finn had tried to invite Rey to visit for a week, but not even that could take their friendship away. On numerous occasions, Finn had punched any Slytherin in the face who dared call his peanut "mudblood."

Halfway up the second staircase, a sharp jerk propelled Rey forward. Rey groaned, realizing the staircases were shifting. A sudden body mass hit her from behind, and Rey struggled to keep her footing.

"Sorry," a deep voice muttered just above her ear. Ben Solo. Of fucking course.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Rey shouted as she spun around. "What, you've got some sort of tracking charm on me? Your mum never taught you about personal space? Six feet apart, Solo!"

Ben raised his hands upward in an act of mock surrender. "Didn't realize you owned the school, Niima." Shifting away, he ran his hands through his hair, and Rey had the odd suspicion that it was all some sort of act. An act to accomplish what, she couldn't say, but the combination of the perfectly relaxed stance with oh-so carefree hair toss seemed a little too perfectly structured and almost unnatural given Solo's usual conduct of slumping and snarling. "Listen," he said as he leaned onto the railing. "As flattering as it is for you to assume I'm all powerful, I don't control the staircases."

"If you were all-powerful, Slytherin wouldn't have failed miserably in the last quidditch match, then, would they have?" Rey responded with a knowing smirk. The trash-talk was almost comforting, and she found herself reveling in the volley of insults between the two of them. "Tell me, did your teammates recount the story of their brutal loss for a bedtime story when you returned to the Slytherin common room? Murder a few house-elves to make yourself feel better? Or did any of them even bother talking to you after your embarrassing little tumble?"

Ben halted with a sour expression on his face. It was a cheap shot. Rey remembered how her friends had visited her the next morning with concern for her health and joy for her return; Ben Solo had left alone, not a single visitor offering any assistance. She almost mumbled an apology, but quickly bit her tongue. Trash-talking between quidditch teams came with the territory of the game. Hexing, too, as Rey had learned far too often after helping reverse more than a couple tongue-tying curses on Poe Dameron before a big game. It was simply part of the rivalry between houses, and surely nothing personal.

"Nothing to say, Solo? Too scared Hogwarts' up and coming chaser is going to knock you off your broom again?" Rey scoffed as the staircase shuddered into place. Great. Thanks to Hogwarts' more inconvenient quirks, she was thrown way off-course from the library and even further away from finishing that wretched potions essay. She'd have to detour past the east wing where two second years had set off dung-bombs earlier that morning. Wrinkling her nose, she squeezed past Ben Solo to the landing and braced herself for whatever smells would be lingering in the next hallway.

"Your hand placement is sloppy when you throw from your left side."

Rey halted. "Excuse me?"

Ben Solo shrugged and moved after her, the corner of his mouth quirking downwards. "You mentioned that I must be intimidated by Hogwarts' up and coming new chaser. I would be, maybe, if your finger placement wasn't so shoddy."

"I don't need your bloody advice on fingering!" Rey shouted. Her face reddened, as if realizing what was coming out of her mouth, and she frantically looked behind her in search of any witnesses. Solo snorted.

"You don't usually play chaser for Gryffindor, do you?" he said as he circled her, studying. "What happened to Karé Kun?"

"None of your business," Rey answered. Seventh-year Karé Kun had left Hogwarts due to a transfer to Beauxbatons in early September. Rey had not asked many questions when she'd been bumped up from second-string, but rumors ranged from overprotective parents to a nine month-long illness due to some unsavory fraternization with some Hufflepuff boy. As far as Rey was concerned, Karé could have been abducted by centaurs, as long as that meant she had made her way to the starting line-up.

"Hmm." Solo leaned forward. "You replaced her. Why?"

"Because I can fly circles around Slytherin losers."

"If only, Niima," Solo said, his lip curling backwards in what could almost be construed as a smile. "You need a teacher," he continued moving forward so closely that Rey had to crane her neck to make eye contact. "To improve your fingering."

The crack of Rey's hand meeting Ben's cheek echoed through the hallway. She was fuming. Angrier than a blast-ended skrewt and just as volatile. And the fact that Ben Solo was grinning as he held his hand to his cheek only made it worse. He laughed, satisfied with Rey's displeasure.

"I'm only trying to help a poor fourth-year in need. You don't want to get better? Fine. Enjoy playing second-string throughout all of your quidditch career. Have fun watching Dameron's mediocre showboating from the sidelines."

"I'm not second-string anymore," Rey muttered, furious that she felt heat rising to her cheeks.

"For now, maybe," Solo shrugged, and Rey gritted her teeth at the annoyingly smug tone he adopted. "But you weren't first pick. What's going to happen when Poe Dameron graduates and there's no longer someone there to play favorites for their little underclassmen buddies?"

Quidditch rivalry or not, that was taking it too far. With a snarl, Rey curled her fist and aimed a punch at the big, lunking bastard's skull. Tried to, at least. Ever the skilled chaser, Ben caught her arm as easily as a poorly lobbed quaffle.

"Let go!"

"If it's just going to lead to you slapping me again, then no."

"It was a punch, you dumb idiot!" Rey yelled. She huffed, managing to pull her arm from his grip with a wince. "Don't want to get hit? Be a decent human being perhaps, instead of utter scum! You really think insulting me is going to convince me of anything? Come off it, Solo. Why do you even care?"

Ben Solo froze for a moment. Rey could practically see his brain piecing together a possible answer. Rey raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

"Maybe," Ben paused, as if still searching for words. "Merlin, Niima, I don't know. Maybe I just want some sort of worthy competition, okay? Someone worth playing someday in the big leagues."

"I don't-" Rey sighed. "Listen, not everyone has ridiculous dreams about going pro. Can't it be enough just to like flying?"

"What's the point of competing if you're not trying to be one of the best?" Solo questioned, his voice dropping to a softer volume than Rey had ever heard from him before, almost as if he were lost in thought. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing. "Because, for all you know you could be. Who's to say you couldn't play pro? Why not?"

"Because spoiled little pure-bloods have spent their whole lives on a broom while I barely even hovered until only a few years ago, okay?" It was the truth. How could she compete with players who had grown up on toy broomsticks and World-Cup attendances? Who spent their summers practicing Porskoff Ploys rather than reading "Quidditch Through the Ages" by the light of a dull flashlight in the hopes that they wouldn't get caught?

Rey chewed her lip in thought as she turned away. After learning that the strange, skinny girl from Children's Services was a little more strange than originally thought, Rey's foster father, Unkar Plutt, had attempted to use Rey's burgeoning gifts to his own advantage. After receiving a strongly-worded owl from the Ministry of Magic on the use of underage magic, her so-called father figure had confiscated any and all "magical contraband," as he referred to it, trying to sell it to any willing customer he could find on the back-channels of the internet. She didn't even bother to take her broom home during the summer out of fear of losing it, let alone go for a joy ride on it. What good was a quidditch player who had no way of practicing for three months of the year? How could she even compare?

"So, you don't come from some great wizarding family," Ben Solo said, his voice still quiet. "You come from nothing. From dirt. But, you don't have to be nothing, Niima. You can be more."

"Calling a person dirt is not necessarily the way to a girl's heart, Solo," Rey responded, trying to diffuse the tension.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I'll be fine, Solo," Rey answered, surprised at the lack of bite in her tone. He was close to her, and Rey was surprised to see kindness in his eyes as he studied her. "I can handle a broomstick just fine. I don't need an extra flying coach."

"We'll see," Ben said, finally shoving himself away. He glanced over his shoulder before he turned a corner, and Rey was surprised to feel an odd sort of jolt in the pit of her stomach.

We'll see, indeed.