Lying on the damp ground of the quidditch pitch, Rey could see an iridescent glow off in the distance, the straggling remnants of some late September fireflies glinting in the night. A soft breeze rustled the leaves around her, a few indistinguishable caws coming from the forbidden forest as she stared unblinkingly at the stars above.
This was, Rey Niima was sure, the day that she would die.
"Up, Niima!" the devil himself shouted, looming above her on his broom like large, lurking buzzard, his stupid fluffy hair blowing in the wind like wayward feathers. Groaning, Rey pushed herself back to her feet, ducking at the last moment before one of the dozens of loosed bludgers almost shattered her left shoulder. "Not quick enough! Keep that up, and Slytherin's one step closer to the cup!"
"What is even the point of doing this?" she yelled, dodging another bludger that just grazed her elbow, causing a squeak to embarrassingly emit from her throat. "I thought you said running drills without a broom was pointless!"
"Not pointless," Ben Solo corrected, pelting quaffle after quaffle towards Rey as she frantically outstretched her arms, nearly avoiding a bludger to the head. She fumbled one of them for a moment before clutching it safely against her chest and running foolishly towards the quidditch hoops. "It's just not as effective. Not my fault you don't have a broom– Check your blind spots, Niima!"
Too late. Rey felt the painful crash of a bludger against her back, knocking the wind out of her as she fell forward. Ben cursed as he flew downwards, disengaging the active bludgers with a few quick immobulus spells before landing.
Heaving on the ground, Rey's entire body felt like it was on fire. Gulping back the bile creeping up her throat with her eyes watering, she shoved Ben away, not even entirely aware of her actions, but knowing she didn't want to be touched for fear of vomiting everywhere.
"Easy," Ben soothed, his hands lingering above her, but not quite touching, giving her the space she needed. "Deep breaths. In and out. I'll count, you breathe."
Rey complied, only flinching slightly when Ben rested a hand on her shoulder. A detached part of her brain felt like laughing as she imagined Ben looming over her like a mother hen. Where went the grumbles over her lack of hustle? What happened to the volatile teen that threatened to curse her mouth closed if she didn't stop nagging him about running drills? Willing these thoughts away, her breathing evened out as she worked through the pain. Finally, her heartbeat settled and the dizziness subsided, leaving behind an aching soreness that enveloped her entire body.
"Merlin, that hurts!" Rey gasped as she righted herself with Ben's help. She swayed a bit, trying desperately not to collapse again.
"Right, then," Ben muttered, aiming his wand with one hand while turning Rey around with the other. "Lift your shirt up."
"Excuse me?" Rey yelped, whipping back around to glare.
"It's just a healing spell, Niima. No reason to birth a hippogriff about it." Ben spun a finger lazily, motioning her to turn back around. "Unless you want everyone to know why it looks like you've been wailed on by a grindylow tomorrow morning, then I suggest you turn back around."
"I can just perform it on myself, then!"
"Sounds very safe," Ben said with a roll of his eyes, back to being the cantankerous Slytherin she was oh-so familiar with. "Aiming your wand at something you can't even see. Hopefully you won't accidentally mend your finger to your ribcage or something else that'll get you a one-way ticket to St. Mungo's."
"I'm good at healing charms," Rey insisted, crossing her arms and instantly wincing as she agitated the injury.
"Still doesn't solve the fact that you can't see shit."
"Fine," Rey finally agreed. She hesitated, holding her breath for a moment, before turning and lifting up her loose-fitting gray t-shirt just enough to reveal the bruise that was surely already spreading across her body. Thankfully, the bludger hit the lower part of her back rather than higher up where he might have seen the edges of her well-worn sports bra. It was embarrassing enough having to expose her back to him due to a foolish quidditch injury; it would have been worse to literally air her dirty laundry.
She heard a soft rustling of robes, a quiet clearing of a throat, then silence. Her skin prickled against the cool night air, and she tensed in anticipation, suddenly very aware of every inch of exposed skin on her lower back. What in the world was taking so long?
Suddenly, the cool tip of Ben's wand grazed her body before hearing a quietly whispered 'Episkey!'. Her skin tingled as warmth languidly flowed through her lower back, radiating outwards and spreading all the way out to the tips of her fingers and toes. Even the point of her nose, previously wind-nipped, felt a glow of heat. She bit back a sigh as she let her shirt drop back down, turning around to face Ben with an awkward smile.
"Better?" he asked, his voice breathy, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Much," Rey answered, embarrassment suddenly filling her as she took a step back. She gave him a cheeky grin, propping a hand against her waist. "Who would have thought that Ben Solo would be such an effective medi-wizard?"
"My mother would be thrilled," he said dryly. "That's all for today, then. Read pages 54-70 of 'The Wrong Wronski' before our meeting later this week. Pay attention to the stylistic variations to the descent. We'll try all four of them next week, so be ready."
"I still don't have a broom."
"You'll borrow mine," he said slowly as if she were dense. "Broomless drills are getting us nowhere, it seems."
"I knew they were pointless!"
"Whatever, Niima," he said as he levitated the bludgers towards their wooden chests and then shot them towards the broom shed with a flick of his wand. He was silent throughout this process, methodically straightening, erasing, organizing, and reconstructing until any sign of their practice had vanished from the pitch. Rey couldn't help but wonder what he was mulling over while he packed away the remnants of the , he turned to her. "What broom did you decide on?"
"Hell if I know," she said, sighing. The question had been vexing her, to be quite frank. Just yesterday morning, Poe had sent her the stats on the newest X-Wing model, which seemed promising enough. As did the Naboo Series N he'd recommended an hour later. And the Dreadnaught 9. And the Starfighter. And the Raddus Resistor. Honestly, she was just about ready to forbid any further communication with Poe Dameron until after her decision had been made, at this point.
"Silencer?" he supplied.
"Not bloody likely," she said with a scoff. "You know as well as I do that Maz's place didn't pay that well."
He hummed in agreement, then once again seemed lost in thought.
"Hogsmeade's coming up."
"Sure is," she answered.
"That's when you're getting your broom, right? Running out of time to decide."
"I suppose."
"Good thing you invited me to go with you to decide, then, right?"
Rey halted. It'd been almost a month since that night in the carriage. "I was joking," she insisted. He couldn't be serious.
"Not a funny joke," he answered, eyes narrowing. "Really, you should be grateful for my help at picking a broom."
"With my luck, you'd convince me to buy some sort of shit-heap," she muttered, and redness flared into Ben's face. "Oh, come off it, Solo. I'm just joking."
"Right," he said stiffly, refusing to make eye contact. "So what time are we meeting to pick out this broom?"
"Not happening."
"I'm hearing 2:00?"
"No, Solo. Not interested."
"We'll meet in front of the Shrieking Shack, then?"
"Why do you even want to help me in the first place?" Rey said, turning to jab a finger into Ben's chest. Well, more like his stomach considering his considerable height.
"I've spent over a year coaching you in Quidditch, and now you're getting suspicious?" Ben shoved her fingers away, and Rey could have sworn he almost lingered for a moment. "You already know the answer."
"A fancy broom isn't going to suddenly turn me into a pro-quidditch player, Solo," Rey said. They'd had this argument before. "Besides, I'm not planning on–"
"Not planning on playing professionally. Yeah, yeah," Ben finished for her, clearly impatient as he abruptly turned on his heel and headed away from the quidditch grounds. Rey stared after him for a moment, before hastily speeding after him, her footsteps struggling to match the pace of his unusually long legs. "And yet, you still meet with me to go over plays every Thursday night. I wonder why that is?"
"Must be that bubbly personality of yours," Rey replied as she finally caught up to him. She was pleased to see a faint smile on his lips when she sneakily peered up at him. "Finn and Rose are going with menext week, so you're off the hook with helping me. But, if you're lucky, maybe I'll let you go for a joyride after I buy it."
And like that, the smile slid from his face, his customary scowl once again returned to its place. Rey couldn't help but roll her eyes to herself. He was so predictable, really.
"They'll have shite taste in broomsticks. Not even real quidditch players," Ben muttered to himself. "What would they even know," he continued with his rant, "considering they've never truly competed? They don't know what it's like out there, Niima. Don't know what you need." Rey's face involuntarily colored at that statement, nearly bumping into Ben when he halted at the fork in their paths that they always made. Rey was never too certain how Ben managed to sneak out of the castle, but it wasn't through the same tunnel she took by the boathouse. Idly, she imagined Ben walking with her through that damp, cramped pathway, his head bent dangerously close to her's in an attempt to not graze the top of the cavern. For some reason, she could feel her blush growing brighter.
"They're all right," Rey argued. "Well, Finn is, at least. He's–" she halted, and Ben's eyes seemed to narrow. "Well, you'll see."
"Mysterious."
"Aren't I always?" Rey answered with an exaggerated flutter of her eyelids. Ben snorted before raising a lazy hand upward as he turned away–his usual goodbye as they parted ways.
Just as he turned, Rey felt an odd sense of relief to see the small smile, ever so tiny, returned once more to his lips.
"Hair-raising potions are generally innocuous," Professor Snoke muttered at the front of the classroom, "if brewed correctly. Harmless and unassuming. Rarely dangerous. Unless mishandled by an inarticulate knave. Porcupine quills should be aligned just so before slicing. Rat's spleen handled delicately to avoid deflating. And as always, if you waste my ingredients with the same sort of slock you lot produced last week…"
As the languid, sallow potion's master droned on at the front of the classroom, the entirety of the fifth-year Gryffindor/Slytherin potion's class could feel their eyes glaze over, their bodies slouched forward in a thinly veiled attempt to get a spare moment of sleep. This was typical for most potion's classes with Professor Snoke: a few grumbled insults, a veritable monologue slung with barbs and jabs towards their lack of skill, both personal and academic. All culminating, of course, in a few heated comments lamenting the increasing failings of the Hogwarts academic system as a whole.
There was a shuffle, and Rey blinked, realizing that Snoke must have uttered the final words that would, at last, cease his endless tirade: "Pair up, and do not waste my time."
There was a scuffle and an awkward cough. Rey looked up, expecting to see her usual partner, Kaydel Ko-Connix, looming above, but almost recoiled when she caught sight of Armitage Hux's sneering face peering down at her.
"Partners?" he drawled, pulling out the chair next to her.
"Excuse me?"
"Can you not hear, Rey?" Hux asked, annoyance already lining the edges of his voice. Rey bristled at the use of her first name; she could already feel her fingers twitching towards her wand, a habitual instinct whenever most members of the Slytherin quidditch team were in her presence.
"Ooo! Sorry there, Hux!" Rose said as she suddenly appeared like a tiny guardian angel. With an annoyed huff, she purposely inserted herself in the uncomfortably small space between Rey and Hux, giving an elbow to the gut that nearly caused the obnoxious weasel to lose his footing and trip on the stool he was attempting to perch upon. "You see, Rey here doesn't speak grindylow, so you best turn your slimy head elsewhere."
"I believe I was talking to your friend, Gryffindor," he spat like an insult once he had untangled his legs.
"And now you're done talking to her! What fun!" Rose huffed, attempting to nudge him further away, unfortunately to little effect. "Piss off, Hux. What do you even think you're doing?"
"Just extending a friendly hand to a fellow quidditch player," Hux said, aggressively trying to peer at Rey from behind Rose's flouncing hair. Passive aggressively, Rose lifted onto her tip-toes. Hux grumbled as he lifted his chin even higher, causing him to stare down at Rey with an expression that was even more reminiscent of a rodent than usual. "Have you read about the latest Finalizer? Top of the line, they say. Not a bad choice for–OUCH! Would you stop that, you little wretch?"
Impatient with Hux's overall presence, Rose had taken to fiddling with the porcupine quills from her supplies kit, very purposefully jabbing the ends of them none to gently into his exposed forearm.
"Everything all right here, Rey? Rose?" Finn approached, crossing his arms and glaring at the intruder. Rey had to admit that the action had become far more intimidating due to Finn's sudden and impressive muscle mass he'd acquired over the summer.
"Oh, so now it's 'little Gryffindor to the rescue' time, is it?" Hux said with a glare.. "We were just talking. Is that a crime?"
"It is when you're harassing them," Finn bit back, pushing one of his sleeves upwards, arms flexing. Rey was both horrified and morbidly thrilled with the realization that Finn was about ten seconds away from socking Hux right in the face.
"Harassing, you say?" Hux grunted. "Didn't Headmistress Mothma speak of unity during the opening feast? Surely you cannot condemn me attempting a little Gryffindor-Slytherin bonding." He flashed a forced smile at Rey, and she nearly gagged.
"I don't think so," Finn stepped forward, forcibly pulling the stool to the table out of Hux's reach and shoving him out of the way.
""Everyone else is all paired off!" Hux whined as he tried to jostle his way back onto the seat. "Get lost, you thankless little–"
"Merlin's beard!" Rose shouted with enough vehemence that earned a lazy 'minus five points from Gryffindor' from Snoke as he continued sorting the supplies at the front table and insulting students under his breath. "Fine, you load of absolute shite. Grab your cauldron. You want a Gryffindor-Slytherin bonding experience? I'll give you one, you absolute arse!"
Hux squawked as Rose roughly grabbed his arm and nearly carried him towards her table on the other side of the classroom. Rey mouthed a quick 'thank you' as Rose shuffled away with a crazed look in her eyes that showed that Hux would soon regret his attempt at–well–whatever that was supposed to be.
"What was that all about?" Finn muttered as he began chopping his dried nettles into small, exact increments. To Finn, potions class was handled with the precision of a general on a battlefield, each ingredient lined and sliced with expertise. Even Snoke had been known to give him a begrudging nod of approval after testing each nearly perfect potion at the end of class. If she didn't love Finn so much, it would almost be annoying.
"Beats me," Rey responded as she hacked at her ginger root. Finn winced before plucking the eviscerated plant from her hands and passing her the newts' eyes.
"Pulverize them," he instructed gently. Rey adhered, eagerly grinding them beneath her pestle and trying hard to not make too much of a mess. There was a reason why Finn and Rey did not usually pair together during potions. Mostly so that Finn would not lose his sanity.
"What do you think will be the verdict over there? Explosion? Loss of limb?" Finn asked with the tilt of the head in Rose and Hux's direction. It wasn't that Rose was particularly rotten at potions. In fact, she did significantly better than Rey. Usually, though, she was just as happy taking direction from Finn in between doodling notes to Rey that she'd flick over in secret. However, Rose's apathy towards the subject (as well as in her academics, in general) made her all too eager for experimentation if given free reign. Hux, Rey was gleeful to realize, had not gotten the memo. Apparently, in a fit of inspiration, Rose had added all seventeen of the ingredients at once without bothering to measure or chop. With her teeth bared in a dangerous smile, she was barely managing to contain her cackle as Hux had to use his whole body mass to keep the lid on top of the raucously bubbling cauldron.
"I'm hoping for a change in skin color. Chartreuse would look lovely with his hair, don't you agree?"
He snorted. "Lovely, indeed." Finn gave one final stir counter-clockwise, turning the potion a deep midnight blue, nearly the color of a winter's sky. Rose's potion, which by now had caught the frantic ire of Professor Snoke, was lime-green, fizzing, and making vague, almost birdlike whistles. Hux was still attempting to keep the lid atop the endlessly cascading torrent of bubbles that by now had started to seep towards the rest of the class. Snoke was yelling, of course. When was he not, after all, either muttering or yelling? Hux looked nearly purple as the bubbling seemed to increase tenfold, and Rose let loose an excited whoop as the whistling cauldron reached a fever-pitch.
"Everybody out! NOW!" Snoke yelled as he ushered the class out of the dungeon before the inevitable explosion. Rey cursed, grabbing her bag and scooped whatever supplies she could manage as she ran towards the door, Professor Snoke shutting it firmly behind them before a definitive SPLOOSH echoed within the classroom.
"Go back to your dormitories. Immediately," Snoke instructed, breathing heavily through his nostrils. His calmness was almost more frightening than his yelling, and Rey shuddered as she grabbed at Rose's arm and attempted to drag her away. "Hux! Tico! Do not move an inch. Detention. Ten days. Starting now."
"Almost worth it," Rose muttered to Rey before moving forward to accept her punishment, "if it wasn't for the red-headed little twat over there. See you on the other side, Niima!"
With an exaggerated salute that only seemed to infuriate Snoke further, Rose rolled up her sleeves and entered the uncomfortably moist classroom, Hux trailing after her with his face set in a perpetual state of idiotic shock.
"Paige is going to kill her if she finds out," Finn said as they climbed the stairs.
"How many howlers, do you think?"
"Enough that we might need earplugs for the next few days," Finn said with a shudder. The fat lady at the common room entrance gave an empathetic sigh as she swung open. "So, Peanut! How are we going to spend our hour of unexpected freedom? A nice walk among the greenhouses? Maybe a good old game of gobstones? I'm pretty sure Poe has a free period right now if we want him to join."
"Yesterday, Poe gave me eighteen recommendations about which broom to buy in the span of only eight hours. Until our first Hogsmeade visit next week, I'm avoiding him like a horde of doxies."
Suddenly, Finn halted in place, Rey crashing into him as he stood there, dumbfounded. "Hogsmeade visit next weekend," Finn repeated.
"Uh yeah," Rey answered, resisting the urge to check her friend for signs of a confundus charm. "I've been going over some quidditch magazines, and I think I've narrowed it down to four choices, though I imagine they'd let me do a test flight before buying. Do you think Rose will still go with us, even with all the quidditch? I'm guessing no, especially since she's been planning some sort of shopping spree with Korr Sella."
Finn fell silent.
"Finn?"
"Poe didn't tell the team yet, did he?"
Rey felt her stomach churn. Tell them what? Irrationally, her mind flickered to a surely impossible thought: was she getting booted from the roster?
"Tell us what?"
"He mentioned it this morning," Finn began, "before you came down for breakfast. That he wants to do the first round of try-outs during Hogsmeade weekend. Wants to make sure the people trying out would prioritize quidditch and all that."
"He knows I'm buying a broom then," Rey muttered, trying to contain the seeping annoyance that was currently prickling at her brain.
"Maybe he forgot?" Finn supplied. "I mean, he can't expect you to go to practice without a broom. I'm sure he'll understand you can't help with tryouts that day. I'm sure after a nice conversation–"
Bugger that.
Before Finn could even finish his sentence, Rey found herself halfway up the stairs to the boys dormitory, pushing roughly against any underclassmen who dared to get in her way. One second-year all but yelped as she shoved past.
"Poe Dameron, open the door this instant!" Rey shouted, barreling her fist against the door to the year six dormitories, nearly splitting a knuckle with the force of her blows.
"Girl trouble, Dameron?" she heard a voice, one of Poe's roommates, ask from within the dorm. There was a thud, as if something was being thrown, followed by sharp guffaw. The blatant amusement only seemed to increase Rey's irritation ten-fold as she banged even harder on the door.
"Hold on, hold on!" Poe's grinning face suddenly appeared before her, and Rey resisted the urge to keep banging her fists. "Rey Niima! Making her way up to our humble abode! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Everybody out, now," she ordered, glaring at the other three boys peering quite obviously at them from their beds. One of the boys whistled as he exited, the other two giving Poe pitying looks that he seemed completely oblivious to. Instead, he stood there beaming, ushering Rey in with pink cheeks and a jovial flourish.
"Er, excuse the mess," he muttered as pushed a pile of laundry and a half-devoured chocolate frog under his bed frame. "So, how is my star chaser doing today? Also, don't tell Pava I said that or she'll murder me alive the next time I see her."
"Finn said you moved the day of try-outs," she intoned, eyes sharp and brow furrowing. "Hogsmeade weekend."
"Yeah! Figured only the best players would be willing to miss Hogsmeade, you know?" He grinned leaning against his bed, then chuckled as if enjoying some sort of private joke. Suddenly Rey understood why Ben insisted on Poe's smugness. Was he really so dense as to not notice her fuming? "Plus, I wasn't trying to make it public knowledge. You know how the Slytherins like to heckle during tryouts. Figured it would mess with their heads a little bit."
"Yeah, well, maybe your own teammate should know, even if the Slytherins don't!"
Poe blinked, as if suddenly aware of the animosity that was seeping out of Rey. Git. It would take him that long.
"Is there a problem?
"The problem," Rey growled, "is having a captain who cares more about keeping information away from the public rather than actually doing anything useful!"
"I've done things!" Poe argued, rising from his bed in irritation.
"Getting rid of the 'no romantic quidditch relations' rule is not as impressive as you think it is," Rey accused. "I doubt Pava would have even listened to that rule, anyway."
"That wasn't–" Poe started, his face reddening. "I've done more than that! I've made plans! Strategies and whatnot! What is your problem right now?"
"My problem is that I'm tired of being left behind, Poe!"
"Left behind?" Poe repeated, confusion spread over his face. "What do you mean?"
"Just-" Rey halted, searching for words. "Forget it. I don't know why I said that."
"We wouldn't leave you behind, Rey," Poe assured her, the look on his face softening. "It's just Quidditch try-outs. You're already on the team."
"Yeah, I'm a real asset, aren't I? Sitting on the bench during every practice? Tell me, is there any opening for a team manager? Because organizing quaffles and releasing snitches is all I've been doing lately."
"Don't be stupid, Rey."
"Stupid," she scoffed. "Glad you think so highly of me."
"Rey, stop," Poe said firmly, his hands landing on either side of her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "You're not stupid. You're not useless. And you're not being left behind. Where is this even coming from?"
Rey paused. Her heart was thudding and her vision dizzy. Her mind suddenly thought back to that moment with Ben on the Quidditch field after she'd been struck by a bludger, and it felt like her body was colliding in on itself. This wasn't who she wanted to be. She wanted to be in control. She wanted the pain to melt away.
She wanted to belong.
How often had she been skirted from foster home to foster home like she was nothing but garbage, a used hand-me-down with little value? How often had she thought she finally found a place to belong, but been torn away from it? She shook her head, clearing the gnats that furrowed within her brain. She had Finn and Rose, now. She had Quidditch. And she couldn't let go of everything again.
"I haven't flown," Rey finally said. "Not since that match last year. You know, the one where I failed spectacularly again?"
"We know that," Poe said with a weak smile. "But, that's not your fault. Things happen. No one is going to hold something like that against you, especially no one who has the pleasure of being your teammate. I truly wish you could see the way that you move on a broom the way that we can. You'd be amazed, Rey. Truly, you were outflying everyone on the team last year. We need you. And you know I care too much about Quidditch to give out cheap compliments. But," he continued after a brief pause, "You can't just blow up at me like that, especially now that I'm captain. You can't let your emotions keep taking over you. It's been happening too much lately."
"What, because I'm a girl?" Rey countered lamely, but the retort was with little bite to it. Even she could tell how ridiculous she was sounding. She felt her face reddening, this time not out of anger, but instead due to embarrassment.
"You know that's not what I meant," Poe said, looking crushed. "I'm not stupid. But you've been–I don't know–stressed lately. And you shouldn't be. I have a good feeling about this year. You're part of something unbreakable. There's no way we'd ever leave you behind."
Poe rested his hand on her shoulder, staring at her with an expression that she couldn't quite place. Fleetingly, she thought of Ben Solo, but she quickly shook off the comparison. Beyond a love of quidditch, the two boys couldn't be more different.
"Sorry," she finally responded, slipping away from his touch to cross her arms over her chest. "About all this. I was just–I don't even know. It was kind of building up ever since that match, I guess."
"Don't apologize. I'll think things through more next time. No, I'm serious!" Poe said with a laugh when Rey gave him an incredulous look. "I should have thought more, you know? How everything would make you feel. We care about you. I care about you. Not just Finn and Rose. Not just the team."
"It's fine. I just wish I could be there to see Fi- I mean, all the new recruits."
"It's just the tryouts, Sunshine," Poe said, patting her shoulder, and Rey felt an involuntary twitch at the nickname. "A lot of speed drills, passing, and all that. I'm not expecting you guys there unless you want to be."
Rey nodded absently, but knew that the rest of the team would, in fact, be watching diligently from the sidelines.
"Don't worry," Poe said, nudging her with a cheeky grin, "You'll be able to torture the fresh meat with your new broom before you know it."
Rey allowed herself to smile, feeling a sliver of relief fill her when Poe draped his arm over her shoulder in a lazy side-hug. Perhaps there were more people in her little, self-made family than she thought.
During breakfast the following morning, Ben Solo nearly choked on his orange juice when a single crumpled bit of parchment hit him dead center between the eyes and ricocheted into his oatmeal.
Rey peered out at the Slytherin table from the corner of her eye. Solo was frantically smoothing the paper, peering intently at her chicken scratch with his dark, dark eyes.
This was stupid, she thought, chewing on her lip. Pathetic. How hard was it, really, to choose your own broom? After all, didn't any first year with rich mommies and daddies handle it every year? Weren't there shop clerks, exhausted Howarts post-grads, most likely, whose very job description fulfilled such a need? Why in the world would she ever want or need Ben Solo's help?
His eyes met hers. One short second that held an eternity. Then, that same small smile from last night on the quidditch pitch.
Well. A little bit of extra expertise wouldn't kill her, would it?