Essays... ugh...

[Kyle Winters]

The exchange heated up quickly as Missy delivered her riposte, but it was all in good fun. The lighthearted mood lingered in the air for a bit, before taking on a more heartfelt tone. “It’s a two-way street,” Kyle replied, recalling the numerous occasions when he had been the one to dive headlong into the fray with barely a plan—or sometimes even none at all—only to have things work out in their favour thanks to their mutual trust in each other.

Kyle met Missy’s gaze, and there was something in her green eyes, something that he had never seen before. A sense of uncertainty and vulnerability. And it was there too in the slightly raw quality of her voice as she revealed the struggled that he had never quite known about. His eyes softened; of course, everyone had their own demons, but hers had thus far been a mystery to Kyle, and he was surprised to learn how deep her troubles were.

That feeling of being alone… Kyle had to admit, despite everything that had happened to him, he had been fortunate enough to always have someone he could turn to for support, even if he rarely chose to. “People who don’t deserve your friendship eventually weed themselves out, I guess,” he offered, not quite sure if the words came out sounding as comforting as they did in his head. “But don’t be afraid of reaching out just because you might get hurt. You’d never know if the next person will turn out to be a true friend.”

A nervous laugh escaped his lips when Missy said that this would be his last year to keep her in check “Assuming I actually manage to graduate,” he sighed as he shook his head. “Somehow I’ve been scraping by year after year, but this time my luck might just run out.” And then his lips curled into a grin. “Maybe you’ll see me again next year, like a poltergeist that can’t be expelled.”

[Missy Dragonov]

Missy gave a soft huff of laughter, the kind that wasn’t so much loud as it was warm in her chest. Weeding themselves out—she supposed Kyle had a point. Still, her gaze lingered on him for a beat, her quill paused above her parchment, before she scribbled another half-sentence that trailed off when her thoughts got louder than her words.

“You make it sound so easy,” she muttered, though there wasn’t venom in it, only thoughtfulness. “Reach out. Trust people. My record of doing that isn’t exactly top of the class.” Her lips quirked in a rueful smile, and she shook her head. “Still… maybe you’re right. Maybe I should stop assuming everyone’s going to walk out the door the second I let them in.”

Her eyes flicked back to him, bright with a teasing edge, as if she wanted to shift away from the heaviness that had crept in. “As for you scraping by—don’t flatter yourself. You’d have washed out ages ago if I wasn’t around. I’ve practically carried you through half our Quidditch matches!”

She tapped her quill twice against her parchment, then tilted her head with a sly grin. “But if you do end up repeating the year… don’t think for a second I’ll let you haunt me. I’d exorcise you faster than Peeves on a bad day.”

Still, her smirk softened into something quieter, more genuine. “But… I don’t actually think your luck’s run out yet. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for, Kyle.”