23. Chapter 23

"Rey?" Finn hesitantly ventures as they're walking down the corridors in between their Thursday morning classes. From his other side, Rose peers at Rey in a mixture of anxiety and concern. "Are you really going to be all right for the holidays?"

They haven't talked about it yet as a group— the Ticos are spending Christmas with extended family in Vietnam while Finn and his parents are off to Saint Kitts. It's going to be the first time in years that Rey won't see out winter break at either of her friends' houses.

In all honesty, she couldn't have planned it better herself.

"It's not a problem." She resists the urge to fidget with the strap of her book bag, which has always been one of her nervous tells— ever since accidentally overhearing Finn and Rose's conversation while they were looking for her last Monday night, she's been making an effort to act less... weird, as they'd put it. "There are worse places to spend the holidays in than Hogwarts."

My parents' flat, for example.

She doesn't elaborate out loud, but the unspoken words hang heavily in the air.

Finn and Rose exchange glances, once more communicating without needing to speak, and Rey feels that same old ache of being on the outside, looking in.

"Well," Rose finally says, "if you're sure..."

Actually, Rose, I'll be shagging Professor Solo throughout winter break, Rey imagines telling her. Every day, if I can help it. So I'll be just fine, thanks.

Instead, she forces her lips into a smile. "'Course I'm sure."

She daydreams about Solo all the way to the Charms classroom and all throughout Jyn's lecture. With exams over and done with, there isn't much schoolwork that needs to be accomplished for the week— it's the teachers who are swamped, with grading, with preparing their lesson plans for next year. Rey had dropped by Solo's office the day after the ball and he'd only had time to make her come on his fingers, his hand slipped under her skirt while he kissed her up against the wall, before sending her on her merry way.

It's kind of sad that she already misses him.

Rey heads to the bathroom after Charms. Jess and Tallie are there, chatting by the sinks, and they acknowledge her with smiles and waves before resuming their conversation with each other as Rey ducks into one of the stalls.

She supposes that it's a testament to how much her relationship with Tallie has improved this year that the other girl doesn't bother to hide the fact that she's talking about her sex life.

It is, however, mightily uncomfortable to be peeing while your roommates discuss the finer details of a handjob that took place after the Celestial Ball and had apparently gone horribly wrong.

"It wasn't my fault!" Tallie insists. "I was, like, mashed— we smoked two whole joints—"

"You shouldn't be telling me that," Jess says mildly. "I am a prefect, you know."

"— and so I forgot about casting a lubrication charm," Tallie continues, ignoring her, "and Keyan started yelping but I kept going because I thought he was just really into it."

Jess cackles. "Oh, I've been there. My ex-boyfriend, he said it felt like his dick was being wrung through sandpaper—"

Wait. What?

Rey flushes the toilet and all but charges out of the stall. Jess and Tallie turn to look at her, startled.

"You— you need lubricant?" she asks them, a little wildly. "When you're giving someone a handjob?"

"Well, I don't know about need, but it's advisable, especially when your technique isn't up to snuff," Jess explains, still seeming bewildered by Rey's outburst. "It's the friction. And dicks are bloody sensitive."

Rey gulps, thinking about that morning in the Room of Requirement, when she'd jacked Solo off.

She had not used lubricant. Her technique is not up to snuff.

"Why, Eurydice, whatever is the matter?" Tallie grins. "Are you planning on giving lucky Seff Hellin a—"

"Goodbye," Rey interrupts as politely as she can.

She leaves the bathroom to the sound of the two other girls' laughter.

"I've just remembered that I have to go to the library, to look something up for Ancient Runes," Rey tells Finn and Rose, who'd waited for her out in the hall. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

They nod, traces of suspicion and worry as clear as day on their faces. She hurries off before they can ask any more questions, and one helter-skelter dash through the castle later she's knocking on the door of Professor Solo's office.

There is the sound of all those magical locks shifting, and then the door swings open and Rey walks in.

Solo's at his desk, surrounded by veritable mountains of paperwork. The line of his mouth quirks into a small smile the moment he sees her. "Rey."

"Hullo." She approaches on unsteady legs, barely hearing the door creaking shut and locking behind her through the haze of her nervousness. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Of course." Pale forehead wrinkling slightly, he opens a desk drawer and pulls out a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "But eat first."

Not having had lunch yet, she gratefully takes the candy from him, opening the box and pouring a handful of variously colored jellybeans into her palm. He snorts as she tosses the lot into her mouth.

"Isn't the point to eat them one by one? So you can take a guess at each flavor?"

"I can do that just fine with several at the same time," she replies, cheeks bulging as she chews. "Right now I've got..." Her eyes narrow in concentration. "Toffee apple, buttered popcorn, ham, vanilla ice cream, spaghetti—" Another jellybean bursts between her teeth and she grimaces— "ugh, that'll be envelope glue, I always get that for some reason—"

Solo exhales a laugh, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. Rey dimples at him in return and swallows the candy. She deposits her book bag on the floor and is just about to sit down in the chair opposite his when he stops her with a look, one dark brow raised. She blinks at him, not comprehending, until—

— he pats his thigh in wordless command—

She should probably be embarrassed by how eagerly she rushes to comply.

Rey perches on Solo's lap, the pleats of her gray skirt draping over the darker material of his black trousers. He wraps a solid arm around her waist, his overly large hand spanning the distance from her hip to her thigh while he continues writing.

And she can't actually wait a second longer to bring up what's on her mind. "I didn't use lube," she says, turning to face him as best as she can in their current position.

Solo drops the quill. "I beg your pardon?"

"The morning after— in the Room of Requirement," Rey forces out. "When I was... you know."

He leans in to nuzzle at her cheek. "Jacking me off?" he murmurs huskily. "Making me come all over your face and tits?"

"Er. Yes." She squirms at the memory. His cock twitches with interest against her backside. "I've only just found out that you're supposed to use lube. For the friction. I'm sure it couldn't have been nice for you. You should've said something."

She feels horribly gauche. It seems like there are so many rules to sex. And the things that should be common sense just— aren't, to her, because she's so inexperienced.

Solo presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "How do I put this..." he muses, almost to himself. "I suppose that it chafed a little bit, but the chafing was— secondary. To everything else." He punctuates this statement with another kiss, this time to the tip of her nose. "It was nice for me. It was very, very nice. Because it was you, because it was your pretty little hand doing it—" His lips drift lower, lavishing the slope of her neck with attention— "and because you were looking up at me with those gorgeous eyes."

His words sound too good to be true— but, the thing is, she believes them. He's no longer hiding behind Occlumency. The contrast to their previous interactions is staggering. His tone is earnest. His handsome features when he pulls back to look at her are relaxed and sincere.

She offers him a hesitant smile. "Well, all right. If you say so."

"I do say so." He squeezes her hip. "But I also have to finish this lesson plan for the second years that I need to submit to Obi-Wan. Could you give me ten more minutes?"

She nods, and he goes back to his task. His arm never moving from her waist. So very content, she eats her jellybeans and reads what he's writing, a sense of nostalgia washing over her at all the familiar topics. The Disarming Charm, the Tongue-Tying Curse, Fumos Duo, the Full Body-Bind. Magic that she remembers practicing over and over again at thirteen years of age, her wandwork clumsy and sloppy compared to what it is now.

She can't believe she's graduating in eight months.

Once he's finished, Solo affixes his signature to the document and flicks his blackthorn wand over it. The parchment is rolled into a scroll by unseen hands, a length of twine appearing from out of thin air and wrapping around the middle of the scroll in a neat ribbon. Rey thinks that she can spend endless hours watching Solo do magic— he wields it so uniquely. His wandwork is precise yet sweeping, and not without its little flourishes.

But his conjuration of the twine reminds her of when he'd done the exact opposite the night of the ball. "Where d'you suppose my knickers are right now?"

The tips of his ears turn pink. It's adorable. "Vanished objects go into non-being," he mumbles, placing the rolled-up parchment in a row of similar scrolls on one corner of his desk. "Which is to say, everything."

It's such a Ravenclaw answer that Rey has to smile."Bet you were at the brainy house in Ilvermorny, weren't you?"

"Horned Serpent, yes." Solo puts away his ink pot and his quill. He reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Rey's ear. "Meanwhile, you are the most Gryffindor-ish Gryffindor I've ever met." He kisses her full on the mouth at last, at long last, his tongue sliding between her lips and lazily exploring for a few heart-stopping moments before he pulls away to drawl, "I can definitely taste the envelope glue."

She smacks him across the chest, and then that same hand of hers fists into his shirtfront, tugging him close for another kiss.

It's not long before the box of jellybeans tumbles to the floor.

It's Solo's fault, really, for rolling his tongue inside her mouth like that.

He gets to his feet, effortlessly lifting her up by the waist and depositing her on the edge of his desk. Hunching over her, leaning in, kissing her and kissing her and kissing her until she is is boneless, floating, falling, her back meeting the table's hardwood surface, his arm impatiently sweeping away all of his paperwork to give her more room.

Rolls of parchment join the candy on the floor.

Rey starts. "Professor—"

"I'll clean it up later," Solo mutters against her lips. "Want to fuck you first."

Her stomach flips. She's still not used to his blunt talk in circumstances like these. Or to her reaction to it that is both mortification and thrill at the mortification. She spreads her thighs wider, bracketing his hips, sighing into his mouth with every nudge of his erection against her sex through the maddening, unbearable barrier of fabric.

They don't have a lot of time. The sixth years will start filing into the D.A.D.A. classroom downstairs in about thirty minutes, give or take.

Solo seems keenly aware of this fact. There is a desperation to the way he kisses and grinds against her and squeezes her breasts through her white blouse, like he's working as quickly as he can to get her as wet as possible. He doesn't need to try that hard, though— she's already soaking through her knickers. Ready for him as always.

And once he finds this out for himself— after sliding a finger beneath her underwear and dipping it into her cunt, then retracting it with a quietly uttered expletive as it comes away slick— he straightens up, unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers while she kicks off her shoes and props herself up on her elbows and waits, impatient, aching, ragged, her mouth going dry at the sight of his erection once it springs free. It is long and thick, flushed and oddly beautiful, and all just for her.

Taking himself in hand, fist slowly bobbing up and down in rhythmic strokes, he eyes the damp spot between her legs speculatively.

"Don't you dare," Rey warns him. "I don't need any more of my knickers becoming one with the universe, thanks."

"Fine," Solo huffs. He conjures a pillow under the base of her spine, lifting her ass slightly off the table, and he hooks her right leg over his shoulder as he guides his cock to her entrance, waiting until she's reached down and tugged the gusset of her white cotton underwear to the side before his hips snap forward and—

— and Merlin, there is so much of him, in this position he slides in so, so deep with that first thrust and he barely gives her any time to get used to it, setting an almost punishing pace right from the start—

The pressure and the fullness coalesce into jagged shards of relentless pleasure. Rey hears strange whimpering, gurgling, squealing noises that sound like they're coming from a long way off.

It takes her what seems like ages to realize that she's the one making them.

She's flat on her back now, both legs hooked over Solo's shoulders. His hands are on her hips. His teeth are bared in an almost lupine snarl as he fucks her open on his desk, and she throws her head back and enjoys it, so damn grateful for the pillow— if he can remember to do that for her, then she can remember to cast a lubrication charm next time.

"Rey. Sweetheart." The pleading note in Solo's tone is at odds with his frenzied thrusts, as is the way the endearment catches in his throat. "I really need you to come before my next class starts. Can you do that for me? Can you play with your clit while I'm cramming my cock inside this tight little pussy?"

She shivers and she does what he asks, sparks dancing behind her fluttering lids as her fingers trace haphazard circles on her swollen bundle of nerves. "That's it, good girl," Solo encourages her, dark and rumbling and as addictive as sin. "My favorite student." Oh, how she clamps down on him at that, the beginnings of orgasm stirring, dragging her heart forward like an undertow. "Always so wet and ready for her professor. Letting me fuck her anytime I want." She breaks around him with a sharp cry, all white heat, all scattered to the wind. "God, yes, come for me, baby," he hisses, hitting that spot inside her again and again and again until her brain has turned to mush and she's practically sobbing. "That's my best girl."

He rocks into her while she quivers with her aftershocks, and then he's pulling out, taking her by one limp arm, gently but firmly hauling her off of the desk, tugging her down until the very tiny part of her mental faculties that's left intact understands.

Rey gets down on her knees, still dazed from that shattering climax. Solo cups the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair while his other hand guides his erection to her lips. She opens her mouth for him, stares up at him with wide eyes as he works himself to completion with just the tip of his cock hovering between her parted lips.

He comes with a grunt, spilling all over her tongue. Leaving her mouth a sticky, white-spattered mess.

He watches with reverence as she swallows it all down, her gaze never wavering from his.

✨✨✨

"May I see you again tomorrow?" he quietly asks as she's preparing to leave his office. "I'd like to say goodbye before you go home for the holidays."

Rey hoists the strap of her book bag over one shoulder. "I'm not going home for the holidays."

Solo's eyes light up, but after a beat he frowns. "Why not?"

Now isn't the time to have this conversation. She doesn't think there'll ever be a good time, but it's definitely not when he has to lecture in— she glances at the clock on the wall— five minutes.

But she can't feed him some kind of elaborate lie, either. Not when he'd let her be privy to so much of his own life.

"I just don't want to," she says with a shrug. "I'd much rather stay here with you."

Her attempt at flattery backfires. He looks aggrieved. "It's going to be your last Christmas before entrenching yourself in the wizarding world outside of Hogwarts. You should spend this time with your family—"

"Professor." She darts over to him and rises up on the tips of her toes, interrupting him with a kiss to his pillowy lips. "You have a class to teach. I have to go."

She feels his penetrating stare on the back of her neck as she walks out of his office.

Classroom 3C is already filling up with sixth years, several of whom turn to look at Rey as she makes her way down the stairs.

Damn.

She should have put on the invisibility cloak.

I swear that man makes me stupid.

"Niima!" cries Tharandon, one of the two Gryffindor Beaters. "What're you here for, then?"

"I had a consultation with Professor Solo," Rey says, trying to sound as casual as possible despite the fact that she can still taste her teacher's come on her tongue. "About my grades."

"Being hard on you, is he?" Tharandon commiserates. "He's a right prick."

"He's not that bad," Rey protests, instinctively rushing to Solo's defense. "I'm just... a terrible student."

But you're his favorite student, remember? leers her treacherous inner voice.

Rey ducks her head in order to hide her flaming cheeks and scurries out of the classroom before her Quidditch teammate can utter another word.

✨✨✨

The next day is the last day of school for the year. Solo hands back the graded written portion of their exams complete with his critiques and their marks for the practical.

It's carnage but, then again, none of them had been expecting anything different.

"This exam," Solo tells the seventh years, "was an approximation of your N.E.W.T.s, as will be the rest of the exams in my class. Remember that how you perform on each one will impact my decision on whether you're qualified to sit your N.E.W.T.s in July. Let us hope that studying harder makes it to the top of your list of New Year's resolutions."

Rey shoots him a disgruntled look as she exits the room at the end of the class.

He merely quirks an eyebrow at her.

On Saturday morning, Rey sees her friends off, exchanging hugs with Finn and Rose before they get into one of the many black carriages that are waiting to transport those who are going home to the train station in Hogsmeade, where the Hogwarts Express will pick them up and bring them to Kings Cross. The carriages are ostensibly horseless, appearing to move on their own, but after the summer where she'd kept vigil at her great-grandfather's deathbed in Saigon, Rose had been able to see that they were being pulled by thestrals— skeletal, winged horses that were only visible to those who had witnessed someone pass away.

It's not snowing yet, but the December air is bitingly cold out on the barren grounds. Huddled in her threadbare winter coat, Rey watches the door of Finn and Rose's carriage swing shut, and then turns to head inside.

She almost bumps into Tallie, who's bundled up in stylish furs and carrying a pink valise.

"Happy Christmas, Rey," Tallie chirps. "I'll see you next year."

She's smiling prettily, her plaited copper hair blazing under the frozen gray sky. Rey looks at her for several long moments, remembering the night of the ball.

And maybe she's also thinking about Ben Solo, and how he treats her like she's everything, and how she hadn't realized that it could be that way.

"You should break up with Keyan. Permanently, I mean," Rey blurts out. Tallie's blue eyes widen in shock. "He's not a nice person. You deserve someone who is good to you."

Having said her piece, hardly daring to believe that she'd said it in the first place, Rey brushes past Tallie and makes her way back to the warmth of a castle that will be so much quieter for the next two weeks— but, she already knows, not lonely.