48. Chapter 48

Fully dressed once more, Ben is worrying his pillowy bottom lip, eyes that are olive brown in the light of the setting sun wrenchingly pensive as he helps Rey back into her own clothes.

“Do you have some time to talk before dinner?” he asks, straightening her floral-printed top over her torso.

She nods. She’s been revising all day, she can spare another hour or two. “About what?”

“The future,” he replies softly. He fastens the button on her skirt and grabs her wrist, leading her to the chair behind his desk. Where he sits and, without preamble, tugs her firmly onto his lap.

She snuggles against his broad chest. Screw the table—she has missed this perch most of all, her bottom nestled on his tree-trunk thighs and his large hand pressed to the small of her back.

“Rey.” Ben holds her close, murmuring gentle words along the skin of her temple. “I’m going back to the U.S. at the end of term. I’m returning to the field as an Auror. I didn’t think that I was ready, that I’d ever be ready, but what happened the night of the tryouts—the graveyard battle—it showed me that I was. It showed me that, despite my fears and my misgivings, there are still people I need to protect.”

Rey isn’t surprised by his announcement. Not even the slightest bit. It makes sense. The way that Ben had fought, beside the MACUSA contingent, against the gathered dark—it couldn’t have been clearer that he’d been born for it. The wizarding world needs his skill, his bravery, and his intellect. They can have all of that, as long as she gets to keep his wild, wild heart.

What does surprise her is how she accepts his decision—readily, with so much ease, with so much pride that she can call this man hers.

“If anything, that’s just added incentive for me to do well on the rest of my exams,” she says, lifting her head from his chest so that she can smile at him. She cradles his face in both hands, the pad of her thumb lightly tracing the jagged line of his scar. “So, if I qualify for the joint training program—”

“When,” Ben interrupts, his tone very nearly stern.

Rey laughs, giving him a fond little roll of her eyes. “Fine.” She tries again. “So, when I qualify for the joint training program, I’ll be in London for six months. You have to write to me.”

“Every day,” he promises, with such gravity that she realizes after a beat that he might actually be serious. “And then, after six months…”

She cards her fingers through all that lovely hair of his that she had already played a large role in messing up mere minutes ago. She’s unable to resist from outright beaming as she finishes the sentence for him. “After six months, I’ll join you in New York. I ought to warn you, I’ll be a right proper tourist at first, I expect.”

“I can’t wait to show you around. Take you to all my favorite spots.” Ben grins at her. Warm, toothy, and lopsided. Rey has no choice but to kiss such an adorable grin, so she slants her mouth over his and he enthusiastically kisses her in return, the two of them smiling against each other’s lips all the while.

✨✨✨

Rey’s Potions N.E.W.T. goes—incredibly well. Relatively speaking.

It is nothing short of a miracle, considering that her face heats up every time she remembers how Ben had helped her study for it. This happens so often that the examiners patrolling the aisles during the theory portion start casting suspicious looks her way and she eventually has to mutter some excuse about the room being a tad too warm.

She doesn’t exactly breeze through the written exam—it is quite difficult—but she’s far more relaxed about it than she thought she would be. The timer runs out just as she’s inking in the last period on the last essay, much to her relief. She’s fairly certain that she’d gotten full marks on several items.

The practical is a little trickier. They are given four hours to brew three potions—Amortentia, Felix Felicis, and the Grand Wiggenweld. The Grand Wiggenweld is sophomore-level and Rey’s tempted to tackle it first, just to get it out of the way, but she wisely decides to brew it alongside Felix Felicis, which will allow her to devote more time to Amortentia.

She makes excellent progress, finishing up the Grand Wiggenweld right when her thyme is done tincturing and she can add it to the Felix Felicis, stirring slowly. Afterward, she grinds up an Occamy eggshell and folds it into the brew and gets the cauldron good and hot. A sprinkle of powdered common rue, some vigorous stirring, one last kiss of the flame to the bottom of the cauldron, her wand waving in a figure of eight over the potion as she intones “Felixempra”—and it’s done. She has a cauldron of liquid luck, molten gold in appearance with large droplets leaping from its surface, splashing about merrily.

There are minor disasters happening all around the examination room—Keyan Farlander has somehow managed to screw up his Grand Wiggenweld and the potion is overflowing from its cauldron in ceaseless rivers of murky black sludge, and Pamich Nerro Goode’s Occamy eggs were too far along and they’ve hatched, several tiny, extremely aggressive winged serpents flapping around and diving at students and examiners alike—but Rey is serene in the midst of all the chaos. She finishes her Amortentia with five minutes to spare, and now it’s time to see if she’d done it correctly. She knows what she’s looking for, what’s supposed to happen; Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence and the finished brew smells differently to everyone, taking on the scents of the things that each person finds most attractive.

Rey brings her nose closer to the bubbling liquid, with its mother-of-pearl sheen, and she inhales deeply the steam that rises from it in spirals. She is engulfed in fumes of sandalwood and oakmoss, of copper and parchment and lemon soap, of rain and expensive suits and spicy aftershave. These are the things that remind her of Ben. And she knows—even before the examiner comes over to inspect her work and nods in approval—that she has passed her Potions N.E.W.T. Perhaps even with flying colors.

✨✨✨

That weekend and all of Monday, Rey divides her time between studying with her friends and studying in Ben’s office. He has quite a lot to do; in addition to working on the seventh years’ grades and putting the finishing touches on the final exams for the other years, he’s also writing up detailed notes for his successor. “So that Hogwarts will at long last see some continuity in its Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson plans,” he mutters with that endearing grumpiness of his that will probably never fully go away.

Rey finds it as endearing as she always has, and she’s content to revise on the couch while Ben toils away at his desk into the late hours. His presence is soothing and steady and she basks in it, his laser-like focus serving as inspiration for her to do her best. And she really, really needs to do her best in her remaining exams because, unlike most of her classmates, she’s not taking any safety subjects—it wouldn’t have worked with Quidditch training and the demanding workload of her other courses—so all her hopes for getting the five N.E.W.T. levels required to be an Auror hinge on Arithmancy and Defense Against the Dark Arts, given that her Ancient Runes situation is precarious, to say the least.

On Monday night, she falls asleep on the couch in Ben’s office while poring over New Theory of Numerology. When she wakes up, a glance at the clock on the wall reveals that it’s almost midnight. It takes a few seconds for her drowsiness to lift so that she can register that she feels incredibly cozy because a fluffy blanket has been thrown over her form.

She smiles into the soft, warm fabric and sneaks a peek over its folds at Ben—he’s hunched at his desk, quill scribbling away amidst a mountain of documents. The bags under his eyes and the creases on his pale brow are stark in the golden light of the torches and a plethora of candles. He’s probably also working hard to distract himself from missing his parents—and maybe even his uncle—as they’d left once he was out of the hospital wing. He is so obviously tired, her dear professor, but he’d still thought to tuck her in and it feels as though her chest is going to, like, explode with love.

Rey scrambles to her feet, the blanket sliding away. She skips over to Ben, whose lips quirk in a weary, preoccupied half-smile in her direction, and she wastes no time in parking her bottom squarely in his lap. She reaches behind him to rub the back of his neck and his eyes flutter shut in pleasure, and she gets to relish the incomparable sensation of this giant of a man melting under her touch.

And she thinks about the days to come, the days that shine on the horizon like a promise, when she’ll be able to touch him all she wants with no need for secrecy, with no need for either of them to mask how they affect each other.

“What do you think will be the best way to play it?” she asks. “When we, y’know, go public.”

“Hmm.” Ben tips his head back, leaning into the rhythmic pressure of her fingers. There’s a light dusting of stubble along his jaw. “It would be best to wait a year after you’ve been formally inducted. There are no rules against relationships between Aurors, but it might be slightly dicey if you’re still basically an intern.” He scoffs to himself. “Hell, it’s going to be dicey, anyway. No matter how long we wait, people are going to talk. Is that something that you think you can deal with?”

“For you? Of course,” Rey says with no hesitation. But she does hesitate when she gets to her next thought. “I’m not sure if I want to be based in New York or in London, though…”

“You don’t have to decide now.” Ben’s tone brooks no argument. “See New York first. See if it’s somewhere you can live in on a more permanent basis. Once you’re an Auror, you can stay wherever you like. And I don’t mind eventually moving to Europe to be with you.”

Rey is—shivering with excitement. It spreads through her and she feels it all the way to her fingertips and her toes, a pleasant giddiness. The future is ripe with promise and she is eighteen and invincible. She presses her lips to the chiseled ivory column of Ben’s throat, kissing her way down the solid slope of it as she plays with the tie that he had loosened at some point during his busy evening. He rumbles happily under her ministrations, his own hand slipping under the hem of her skirt to palm her thigh. She’d had study period with the other seventh years in the Great Hall earlier that afternoon so she’s still wearing her uniform, and thank Merlin for that, because nothing gets Ben going quite like the sight of her in her frayed tie and too-short skirt and the white blouse that’s always stained with condiments. It’s a bit weird, honestly speaking, but she’s not complaining in the least.

And she is definitely not complaining when she straddles him and she feels his cock twitch with interest through his trousers, against her knickers.

This could be exactly what they both need after a long day. Something to make the stress dissipate, if only for a few glorious moments.

Rey grabs hold of Ben’s shoulders, using the exceedingly well-built vastness of them for leverage as she grinds down on his growing erection, nibbling and sucking on the pale, sweet-smelling skin of his neck all the while. He mutters a litany of both praises and curses through clenched teeth, his large fingers digging into her hips to help her rock against him. And her body is so pent up, it still hasn’t had its fill after missing him for so long, that it’s hardly a shock when she manages to rub herself all the way to a tiny orgasm that shudders through her like a sigh.

“Fuck,” Ben growls as Rey stifles her ragged cry against his soft lips. “You’re literally everything that I could ever want. Such a good little cummer. My sweet, filthy girl. I can’t wait to build a life with you.”

He picks her up like she weighs nothing and repositions her pliant form on his lap so that her back is slumped against the expanse of his chest. It’s his turn to cover her neck in kisses and to mouth at the shell of her ear, his gravelly promise of a life together echoing through the chambers of her being, drawing out her aftershocks until she’s all but limp from the pleasure.

He makes quick work of her buttons, popping them open with practiced fingers, parting her white blouse, tugging down the cups of her bra. He teases her breasts and he nips playfully at her neck, his other hand sliding between her thighs to cup her through her drenched knickers, careful not to overstimulate, mindful of how sensitive she still is after coming so recently.

Rey’s own hands are far from idle. She unbuckles Ben’s belt and snaps open the fastenings of his trousers with fingers that are rather practiced, too, if she does say so herself. He growls in her ear when she wraps a fist around his hard length and works him slowly, matching her rhythm to his own wandering touches. And after a while they arrive at a point that is as natural as breathing, when he can’t seem to take it anymore, when she’s ready to reach for the heights again. He tugs the gusset of her knickers to the side and, with a roll of her hips, she sinks down onto him, her breathy whimpers a fine counterpoint to his slew of tattered exhalations as she stretches around him. As she takes him to the hilt.

“Look at that.” Ben’s tone is hoarse and reverent. His fingers trace the faint outline of his cock through the freckled skin of her stomach. “Too fucking small for me, but made to take me, anyway.” He presses his palm to the slight bulge, holding her still, letting her feel how deeply he fills her. “Never leave me, Miss Niima,” he says gruffly. “There is no one I’ll ever love as much as I love you.”

“You’re—you’re such a sap, professor,” Rey breathes out, even as a wave of overwhelming affection causes her to nuzzle at his jaw.

He kisses her shoulder at the same time that he gives her nipple a particularly sharp little pinch, burningly possessive. Rey can honestly feel her pulse in her clit, she is that turned on, the combination of sweet, dirty words and his mouth and fingers on her body and his thick cock splitting her open all playing major roles in an assault on her senses. She bucks down on him, trying to get him to move, but he—

—doesn’t—

Or, rather, he doesn’t move in the way that she wants. Instead, he leans forward slightly, the change in angle coaxing a startled little Oof to drip off of her tongue as he shifts inside her, going even deeper, hitting an array of new and highly sensitized spots.

Then he picks up his quill and resumes writing his notes.

It takes a while for Rey to process what’s happening. When she finally does, she blinks.

“Oi,” she snarls, baring teeth.

Ben kisses her cheek, almost apologetically. “I have to finish my notes,” he explains. His tone is passably contrite, but she can feel his mischievous smirk blossoming against her skin. “Just stay there a while. You can play with yourself all you like, but just be a good girl and sit on my cock until I’m done.”

Merlin, what an utterly filthy man.

Rey doesn’t give in at first. She is far too annoyed for that. But even the annoyance itself is part of the act, as she understands it. It’s something to lose herself in—just a bit of brattiness to help unwind the coils of tension that have been snaking through her these past few days of nonstop revision. And, for all his bluster, Ben is very quick to cajole her out of that annoyance; after only a few minutes of scribbling away, he starts running his free hand down her body. Fondling her, with an idleness that she can’t quite decide if it makes her seethe or if it drives her mad. He thumbs at her achingly hard nipples, murmuring some kind of distracted appreciation. He caresses her abdomen, right over the places where his erection juts out just the slightest bit. All while quill continues to scratch away on parchment and the fire in the hearth crackles low into the midnight hour.

In the end, Rey surrenders. She reaches behind her to clamp one hand on the back of his neck—hanging on to him, in a way—as her other hand rubs two fingers slickly over the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. He turns his head so that their lips can meet and he kisses her with just the faintest trace of roughness as she strums at her clit and stretches and clenches around him.

And it’s all so—interesting. So illicitly playful. Ben Solo is a far softer touch than he’d been when they first met, but he will never bore her. He will always encourage her in things like these and when she is with him she will always discover new aspects of herself and what she’s capable of doing.

As sweet as the epiphany is, however, she can’t refrain from grumbling out her disapproval when he breaks the kiss to return to his work.

“Sweetheart.” Ben tweaks her nipple in what is perhaps the most loving admonishment that she’s ever been given. “I really do have to finish this. It won’t be long now. In the meantime, get my cock all nice and wet so I can fuck you properly.”

“Tosser.” Rey hides a pout against his neck. “Big, dumb professor. Making your student squirm on your stupidly huge dick.” The breath hitches in his throat and she allows herself a smug smile because she knows that she’s got him. She arches against his broad chest as her hand blurs between her legs and soon there she has it, there she goes, whining softly, kissing his ear, her toes curling as the orgasm rips through her, drenching the seat of his fine trousers with her liquid heat.

Distantly, she hears a cracking sound. At the periphery of her vision, she sees that the quill has nearly splintered in half in his grip. Triumph surges through her but she has no opportunity to luxuriate in it—because it is in that moment that Ben grabs hold of her hips and thrusts up into her.

It's too much. It’s far too much. She’s still coming. It almost, very nearly, hurts.

She shouts as he fucks her through her aftershocks. She squeals. She makes all kinds of noises that she would have found embarrassing in her old life. Her teacher bounces her on his cock until she’s putty in his strong hands, a quivering mess of a girl, her tits hanging out and her pleated skirt bunched up her thighs, egged on by the growled demands to take it that he muffles into her hair.

Ben doesn’t stop until he comes, filling her with all that white that trickles down to where they’re joined. Rey collapses in his arms, panting, mind spinning.

It had been the ride of her life.

After several long moments of silence and lazy kisses, after his heart at her spine has quietened to its normal beat, Ben peers over her shoulder at the broken quill and the abandoned paperwork on his desk. “I’m behind schedule,” he sighs glumly. “You, Miss Niima, are a blight on peace.”

“Get used to it, Professor Solo,” Rey chirps, pressing one last kiss to his stubble-dotted chin. “Because I’m going to need more of this sort of study break.”

✨✨✨

The written portion of Rey’s Arithmancy N.E.W.T. on Tuesday morning goes swimmingly. It had always been one of her best subjects. She does forget one theorem and she ends up having to cobble several others together in order to derive the correct proof, but she feels that it had been a rather inspired solution, if not particularly elegant.

She’s nervous about the practical, though. In fact, she’s so nervous that, during lunch break, she ambushes Ben in his classroom after the third years have left and she has her way with him on his desk. It’s a hurried encounter with barely a word spoken, and she only has enough time to press one last kiss to his red, red lips before hopping off of his dick.

“I feel somewhat used,” he complains as she heads for the door.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promises him over her shoulder.

Rey takes her Arithmancy practical with Ben’s come drying on the insides of her thighs. It’s not as bad as she’d feared; there’s a long table laden with all manner of artifacts dripping with dark magic and the students are given the afternoon to decurse as many as they can. Rey accomplishes seven successful nullifications before the examiner calls the time and she leaves the hall sporting only minor burns and cuts—a better result than several of her classmates, some of whom had been electrocuted or had appendages vanish into thin air or had been briefly transformed into frogs.

Rey has two whole days to study for the Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. on Friday, but she doesn’t get complacent in the least. Her career as an Auror—and New York, New York with Ben—depends on her getting this one last Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding. She revises to the point that random pages from her textbooks are all that she sees whenever she closes her eyes. She and her friends practice casting every spare minute that they have.

There are times when the stress is too much and Rey feels like she’s going to combust, so she seeks Ben out. She waylays him in his classroom and his office and she gets good and shagged before diving back into her review. She doesn’t ask Ben for help and he doesn’t offer—he’s the D.A.D.A. professor and it’s sort of a line that they shouldn’t cross. Which is highly ironic, given their relationship, but she wants to pass on her own merit.

He supports her in other ways, though.

On Thursday night, after a dinner that she’d been too anxious to eat much of, only going for second helpings, Rey sneaks into Ben’s office. He’s there, much to her relief, going over exam questions for the other year levels. She’d spent the whole day studying in the Room of Requirement with Finn and Rose, guzzling insane amounts of coffee, and she desperately needs to unwind in her favorite way.

However, once the door has been locked and the wards have been spelled into place, Ben takes one look at Rey and retrieves a potion-making kit from the shelf.

“I’m going to brew Draught of Peace for you,” he explains, catching sight of her quizzical stare as he quickly and efficiently sets up shop on his desk, canceling the shrinking charms on the equipment and measuring out ingredients. “It will counter the caffeine in your system and help you sleep. You need to be well-rested for tomorrow. Just wait on the couch.”

Rey starts to protest—she doesn’t want Draught of Peace, she wants to get railed and then perhaps review some notes before finally passing out—but the line of Ben’s mouth is very firm and his dark eyes are almost hard. She meekly sits down on the couch, and it doesn’t take her long to decide that she doesn’t mind this wrench in her plans as much as she thought she would.

Primarily because Ben had shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves almost up to his elbows before she arrived, which means that he’s making the potion stripped down to a form-fitting waistcoat and white shirt and dark trousers, those excellent forearms of his rippling in the torchlight.

She loves watching him brew. His movements are practiced and precise even as all the implements—those tiny spoons and slim stirring rods—look ridiculously pint-sized in his burly fingers. Draught of Peace is O.W.L.-level but he waltzes through the steps, his pale brow furrowed in intense concentration, and it’s as though no time at all has passed before he’s putting the concoction on to simmer and the distinctive, earthy musk of Valerian root fills the room, curbed by the delicate, dewy scent of powdered moonstone.

Finally, he adds seven drops of Syrup of Hellebore. The liquid in the cauldron turns a bright turquoise hue, emitting a vapor that’s like fine silver mist. Ben lets it simmer some more as he tidies up his desk, then he extinguishes the flame under the cauldron with a flick of his blackthorn wand and measures an appropriate dose into a small vial. He hands the vial to Rey and stands solemnly over her, arms crossed, sporting so stern a frown that she really has no choice but to drink it.

He had brewed it perfectly. No sooner has she given back the empty vial when she feels the effects begin to set in. The buzzing hyper-alertness from all the coffee is gradually whittled away and her anxiety slowly recedes, replaced by a calm that she hasn’t felt in what seems like ages.

Ben casts a cleansing charm on the vial and tucks it back into the potion-making kit on his desk. When he returns to her, joining her on the couch, he drags her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. “Sleep,” he orders gruffly. “I’ll set an alarm for five in the morning so that you’ll have plenty of time to sneak back to your dorm.”

Rey opens her mouth to argue. But what comes out instead is a yawn, and every bit of fight leaves her. Draught of Peace doesn’t induce drowsiness on its own, but she can’t even remember the last time that she’d had her eight hours. Without the caffeine and her pre-exam panic to act as a buffer, she falls quickly into the rest that her body is crying out for.

“Love you,” she mumbles, her eyes drifting shut.

“I love you more,” he shoots back. “Now stop talking and go to sleep.”

Rey’s last memory before the veils of slumber claim her is of her lips curving into a smile as Ben’s fingers card through her hair.

✨✨✨

“This is it, lads,” Finn whispers as the seventh years file into the examination hall with all the tentativeness of a flock of lost ducklings. “It was a pleasure fighting by your side.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Rose chides him. But she’s chewing at the loose strands of hair that have escaped from her bun, which is as sure a sign as anything that she’s internally having a meltdown.

Walking beside Rey, Seff is reciting all the possible methods of checking an area for a Chameleon Ghoul under his breath, verbatim from their textbook. Next to him, Tallie is uncharacteristically quiet, her features drawn. Almost everyone is a mess, actually—with the exception being Aleson Gray, who’s sauntering along while subtly yawning behind one elegant hand. He catches Rey’s eye and grimaces, clearly displeased with her; earlier during breakfast, Aleson had gotten so fed up with his housemates incessantly quizzing one another that he’d transferred to the Gryffindor table, only for Rey to incessantly quiz him as he ate his porridge.

Whatever. It had been for his own good. She sticks her tongue out at him as they go to their seats.

And, all right, the written exam is… palatable. The questions are extremely technical, but that doesn’t come as a shock due to Ben’s own tests having been similarly structured. Most of Rey’s lessons come back to her with ease, her mind alert and refreshed, and there are several items wherein she can practically hear Ben lecturing as she scribbles the answer.

He had been a really good teacher. His comprehensive syllabus had prepared her and her classmates for this. And, while she could definitely have done better on a couple of the essays, she turns in her completed exam feeling reasonably certain that she’d passed.

The practical is nerve-wracking but unexpectedly kind of fun. After the manticore and the maze and the graveyard battle, Rey does not have a single problem with this type of standardized test. She and her examiner—a very short and very old wizard with a flowing white beard—take up dueling stances and she breezes through the counter-jinxes and defensive spells that are needed to guard against each bit of magic aimed her way. She is then required to Imperturb a desk and break through the dark illusory enchantment woven around a bathtub, both of which she accomplishes with enough finesse that her examiner outright beams.

For the last item on the practical, Rey has to neutralize what turns out to be lurking in the bathtub—a Kappa. A scaly, monkey-looking beast with webbed hands and an ill temper. It thrashes around, trying to pull Rey into the water to feast on her blood, moving so fast that her curses miss their mark. Rey eventually gets the brilliant idea to conjure a miniature firework display on the floor by the tub; the intrigued Kappa peeks over the rim and looks down at an angle that causes the water in the hollow at the top of its head to spill, weakening it.

It sinks back into the depths of the tub with a groan. Rey’s examiner applauds. “Wonderful!” he squeaks. “So inventive!”

Rey glances around the hall to check how her friends are doing with their Kappas. Finn is down on his knees, begging the creature in the tub to just bow already, there’s a good chap, come on while the Kappa crosses its arms and huffs at him and the examiner looks on, scandalized. Bazel Warv has been hauled into the water by his Kappa and he’s currently fist-fighting with it as the examiner appears conflicted on whether or not to intervene.

Rose, meanwhile, is feeding her Kappa some blood-flavored algae wafers that she’d saved from her Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T. She’d somehow gotten the beast to be startlingly docile, cooing at it in calm and cheerful tones as it eats right out of her hand.

“Miss Niima.”

Rey turns back to her examiner. The kindly old wizard is appraising her with a twinkle in his eye.

“We’ve heard that your class was taught the Patronus Charm this school year,” he squeaks. “Perhaps a demonstration—for extra points?”

Rey doesn’t need to be asked twice. She focuses on the memory of falling asleep in Ben’s arms last night and the silvery doe erupts from the tip of her wand, prancing around the hall as her examiner goes into conniptions of delight. It’s not long before her Patronus is joined by those belonging to other students who have also been asked the bonus question.

What a sight it is, all these extensions of the soul swirling through the beams of late afternoon sun wafting into the hall. The combination of gold and silver light falls on the faces of Rey’s classmates. They all look as tired and as relieved as she feels. The D.A.D.A. exam had been the last one scheduled; N.E.W.T.s are over. After all the all-nighters and the busy days—after an entire school year spent diving into one existential crisis after another and gearing up toward this moment—they’d all made it out in one piece.

✨✨✨

The last week of term flies by. The seventh years spend most of it catching up on the sleep that the examinations had denied them, acquiring clearances with the school’s various departments, packing up their things with the finality of those who won’t be coming back next year, and attending their last classes and career consultations.

There is also a whole lot of crying. It becomes a common sight—graduating students weeping in one another’s arms in the hallways, sobbing as they exit classrooms and offices, reminiscing with their friends in choked tones as they traverse favorite haunts within the castle grounds. On more than one occasion, Rey catches somebody bawling while trying to hug a ghost or a portrait.

As for herself, she would venture to say that she’s rather immune from the waterworks. It’s all very sad, yes, but she’s more excited than sad. There are so many possibilities—there is so much life—awaiting her once she leaves Hogwarts. Plus, she’s kept too busy to cry; aside from wrapping up unfinished academic business, she also divides her waking hours between hanging out with her friends as much as possible and shagging Ben as much as possible.

There is an urgency to the way that she and Ben touch each other all throughout this last week, the breakup still fresh on their minds and the specter of another, much longer separation looming ahead. It is these stolen moments that bring her close to tears but she counters them with the promise of the future. Six months without him and then as long as she could possibly want with him.

Maybe—most definitely—the rest of her life.

Time flies by far too fast. Suddenly it’s Friday, the day before their graduation ceremony, and the seventh years are attending their last Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Rey comes very, very close to crying then. But she manages to keep it together, soaking in the last time that she will ever see Ben leaning against the teacher’s table, in front of the blackboard.

He keeps the session brief, only handing back the final batch of essays that he’d graded and reminding them that he’ll be available for last-minute consultation all day and to let him know if they want a recommendation letter from him to any jobs or postgraduate programs that they’re applying for. Finally, with all that business out of the way, he does something very rare and unexpected.

He smiles at the class. His pale features relaxed and sincere.

They goggle back at him, stunned. Even Rey, who’s no stranger to his smiles by now but has never seen him this warm with anyone else.

“It’s been an interesting school year.” Ben dimples briefly as he quips the understatement of the century. “This was my first time teaching and it was a far more pleasant experience than I could ever have accounted for.” Rey desperately wills herself not to blush. “Unfortunately, I’ll be returning to America next week and you all will have left before then, so I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all of you for putting up with me. Word is that you did very well on your N.E.W.T.s and I couldn’t be prouder. This is an exceptionally talented class—I regret that I couldn’t be the one to break the curse on the D.A.D.A. position, but I will always consider it an honor to have been your professor. I have faith that every single one of you is going to make your mark on the world once you get out there, and change it for the better…”

Ben trails off, perplexed. Because more than half of the already emotionally fragile graduating batch have started sobbing.

Rey’s getting a mild case of the oncoming sniffles as well, but it soon gives way to amusement at the sight of her dear professor’s consternation. Their gazes meet and she flashes him a small smile. His brown eyes soften.

Ben clears his throat discreetly, the sound cutting through the blubbering. “Anyway, that’s all. Again, thanks—for making my year in Scotland a great one. You’re all good kids and I can’t wait to see what you become,” he says. “For the last time—class dismissed.”

✨✨✨

That evening marks the End-of-Term Feast. At this point, Rey is beginning to worry that something is seriously wrong with her, because everyone else who’s not a stuck-up pureblood in Slytherin has done their fair share of crying by now.

She’s sentimental, yes, but she just can’t bring herself to be sad about it.

Obi-Wan awards the House Cup, doling out more points before they start eating. The Gryffindor table cheers raucously as Rey’s points for bravery in the face of danger upon being captured by dark wizards and Finn’s points for joining the battle to rescue her give them a one-point lead over Hufflepuff.

“Quidditch Cup and House Cup!” Jannah roars. She drains her pumpkin juice in one swig and slams the empty goblet on the floor with terrifying exuberance. “What a year! What a year!”

Rey is grinning so widely that the sides of her mouth ache. Then she remembers…

“And, lastly, also for the willingness to sacrifice life and limb to save a friend, fifty points to Miss Rose Tico of Hufflepuff!” Obi-Wan booms. “Congratulations, badgers!”

The Hufflepuff table explodes. Yellow and black banners unfurl all throughout the Great Hall.

“No!” Jannah moans, banging her head on the table as her housemates try to stop her before she hurts herself. “Not bloody Hufflepuff! I refuse!”

But Rey can’t even be mad. She looks over at Rose, who is beaming and blushing as all the other Hufflepuffs swarm her with gratitude, and Rey finds herself beaming as well. It is her friend’s triumph and so it is also hers.

What a year, indeed.

✨✨✨

Rey sleeps in on Saturday. Ben had worn her out in their little cabin in the Room of Requirement, and not just with sex—they’d stayed up talking until the early hours, savoring their last full night together, and he hadn’t let her go back to the dorm until she promised to meet him in the Astronomy Tower at two in the morning, after her graduation.

“Why at such a godforsaken hour?” she’d asked, ever the picture of innocence.

He’d shot her a wry look. “I was a student once, too, you know,” he’d reminded her. “You and your friends are going to have an illegal party after the graduation ceremony. Just sneak away when you can.”

Well, he’s not wrong—Tallie and Jess are hosting a party. When Rey wakes up and makes her groggy way to the common room, the two other girls are there, arguing about the venue. The original plan had been the dungeons but a sixth year had warned them that he’d overheard Unkar Plutt telling Mr. Pancakes that the two of them would be staking out the dungeons tonight, because that’s where every illegal graduation party has been held since time immemorial.

Rey eases herself into the nook by the window. With the familiar melody of Tallie and Jess chattering away in the background, she peers out over the sun-drenched campus. The younger students are leaving for the summer, dragging their suitcases into the black carriages that will take them to the train station in Hogsmeade. Rey’s mouth parts in a silent gasp as she looks upon a sight that she’s never witnessed before—tethered to the carriages are skeletal black horses, completely devoid of flesh, the features of their pointed faces vaguely reptilian and their wings leathery and wide, like those of bats. Their pupil-less eyes are as white and unblinking as chips of meteors set into the sunken hollows of their ridged skulls.

She can see the thestrals now.

So many people had been dying all around her in that graveyard. She has beheld death and so its emblems are now known to her.

“Awesome, isn’t it? And, I don’t know, kind of sad at the same time.”

Rey turns away from the window to smile at Finn as he squeezes into the other end of the nook. The two of them together can no longer fit in this spot as comfortably as they had back in first year. They had grown like weeds from one term to the next.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re bloody wicked,” Finn muses as they resume looking at the thestrals. “But I think about what it took for us to see them. And it feels like—it feels like I grew up before I was ready.”

“I’m not certain if anyone is ever truly ready,” Rey says. “But you did so good, Finn. You did amazing. You’ll make a great Auror.”

“Thanks, peanut. You, too.” He chuckles all of a sudden, some fond memory lighting up his dark eyes. “Remember from second to fourth year, when we didn’t want to be Aurors yet? When we were obsessed with starting a band after graduation?”

“We can still start a band instead. It’s not too late,” Rey declares firmly. “And it will be brilliant, because I believe in us.”

He grins. And then they just sit quietly together, lost in their own thoughts, secure in a forever friendship that doesn’t need to be constantly filled in with words.

But it’s not a peace that lasts long—it’s interrupted by an indignant squawk from Tallie. Her argument with Jess over the party venue has hit full stride.

“For the last time, we cannot host in the Astronomy Tower, there’s going to be so much alcohol, Jessika, we’ll all fall to our grisly deaths—”

Finn and Rey exchange glances. She raises an eyebrow in silent question; he nods.

“Actually,” Rey calls out to Tallie and Jess, “we know the perfect place. It’s a hidden room on the seventh floor…”

✨✨✨

As dusk descends, Rey’s dorm becomes a whirlwind of activity similar to how it had been in the hours before the Celestial Ball.

Just as in those hours, Rey grudgingly submits to hair and makeup once again.

Or, well, maybe not that grudgingly.

After all, the sight of her in fancy clothes had gotten Ben to fuck her up against the door of an empty classroom, hadn’t it? She’s curious to see if she can incite a repeat performance.

Her graduation dress is wonderful. It’s brand new, a gift from Mr. and Mrs. Tico that had been owled a few days ago. It’s made of real silk and it is predominantly Gryffindor red. It has cap sleeves that are slid down to her upper arms, leaving her shoulders bare. The bodice is low-cut enough to give a hint of cleavage, but not so much that she feels overexposed. The pinched waist flares out into a balloon skirt with a hem shorter in front than in the back, generously adorned with gold applique.

Mr. and Mrs. Tico had also given her a pair of strappy gold shoes to match. Tallie declares the heels to be of a sensible height, but Rey surreptitiously enchants them shorter while the other girl’s not looking.

She feels a bit like a princess, honestly. It’s kind of cool. Tallie curls Rey’s hair and sweeps it into a bun gathered at the nape of her neck and Jess does that winged liner thing around her eyes again and paints her lips as red as her dress.

It’s almost a shame that they have to wear the newly-issued black graduation robes over their dresses, but Rey has to admit that the accompanying pointy hats add a nice touch. Once they’re all ready, Jannah casts an Expansion Charm on one of the full-length mirrors so that it has space for all of them and the four seventh-year Gryffindor girls gather around it, studying their reflections side by side.

The atmosphere is somber. In the mirror as in real life, their images are surrounded by the cozy dorm room with its four-poster beds and its red curtains. The room that has seen so many late-night talks and study sessions and spats and reconciliations and lazy weekends.

After tomorrow, I’m never going to be in this room again, Rey realizes. And I’m never—I’m never going to room with all three of these girls again—

She watches the reflection of Jess’ face crumple beneath the brim of her pointy hat. Jannah notices it at the same time and decisively takes the lead, ushering everyone out the door despite their protests.

“No more crying!” Jannah barks. “I’ve had quite enough of it, why, did you lot know that Gandris had to bodily drag me away from the Quidditch pitch the other day, he was yanking at me legs while I held on to the grass, wailing into it that I was so sorry that I had to leave. A right proper mess, I tell you. I am so done with this.”

✨✨✨

The thestral-drawn carriages are waiting for Rey and her classmates outside the castle. They are taken to the far end of the Black Lake, where Chewie is waiting for them, carrying a huge lamp. Behind him, on the shore, are dozens of canoes.

The scene is so achingly familiar that Rey almost expects him to beckon them over, calling out, “First years! First years, over here!”

And he does beckon them over. But what he says is, “Seventh years! Over here!”

Someone in the crowd starts crying. Loudly.

“Ah, none of that, now,” Chewie grunts. Rey can’t be too sure as it’s rather dark, but he seems to be turning red under his bushy beard. Just as she squints at him for a closer look, he suddenly sweeps her into a bear hug, lifting her off her feet with such enthusiasm that her pointy hat nearly falls off of her head. “Oof! You’ve gotten so tall,” he exclaims. “Why, it was only yesterday when you were practically swimming in your robes and you were looking all around you like you couldn’t believe it, wasn’t it?”

Rey laughs, hugging him back. She opens her mouth to say—something—to tell him thanks, thanks for getting her out of the Muggle world, thanks for introducing her to magic—but they’re abruptly swarmed by several other seventh years.

“Oi, quit hogging him, Niima!”

“I want a Chewie hug, too!”

“Budge up!”

By the time Chewie has doled out hugs to everyone who wanted one, the moon is high in the sky and more stars have come out. There aren’t a lot of dry eyes left, and Rey’s a little self-conscious about being one of the last holdouts. Still, she doesn’t have time to dwell on that because soon they’re all filing into the canoes in groups of four.

Aleson joins her and Finn and Rose in their canoe. He darts a vaguely long-suffering glance at Finn and Rose’s tear-stained faces, then his bored expression relaxes into something like relief as he studies Rey. “Glad to see that at least one other person in this batch has refrained from carrying on, at least.”

“Give her time,” Rose says. Then she blinks. “Your housemates are carrying on, too, then?”

Aleson sighs. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s appalling.”

Rey and Finn and Rose cackle at the mental image of a bunch of weepy Slytherins. Rey finds that she quite likes cackling in her midnight-black robes and her red dress and her pointy hat—there’s a rightness to it. A witchiness.

Propelled by unseen magical means, the canoes push away from shore and glide over the dark waters. The graduating students are quiet and solemn, affording this voyage—this coming full circle—the weight that it deserves without having to be told. Rey blinks up at the glimmering veils of summer constellations overhead and she listens to the gentle beat of the waves, and she thinks that they could all be eleven years old again.

When she faces forward once more, the castle is so much nearer. A full moon shines down on Hogwarts, which rises up from rocky bluffs with its dizzying array of towers and turrets, with its cheerfully lit windows, with all the weird and the wonderful things that Rey had found inside its labyrinthine halls and on its sprawling grounds over the course of the best years of her life.

It sinks in all at once, everything that she’d been refusing to acknowledge as the end drew near. All of it settles over her like a curtain of heavy velvet.

Once she leaves on the train tomorrow, it will be a very long while before she returns to this castle. She won’t be a student anymore. She will have to carry on as a witch far away from these cherished halls.

Seven years have gone by, just like that. Vanished into the aether. She’s going down from the highlands, into the world.

This is goodbye.

Rey bursts into tears.

✨✨✨

She’s crying the hardest out of anyone as they disembark from the canoes and troop to the school gates. To his credit, Aleson doesn’t give her any grief for it; instead, he pats her shoulder awkwardly and says, “There, there, Niima.”

“I’m—I’m fine,” Rey hiccups. “I’ll be fine in just a moment.”

Mon Mothma is standing at the entrance, resplendent in her snowy white robes. “Welcome home, graduates,” she says, regarding the class fondly. “Yes, that is what this school is. No matter where your path takes you, no matter how much time has passed, Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home.”

Rey wails.

✨✨✨

She sniffles her way through the ceremony in the Great Hall. Obi-Wan is calling each student to come forward one by one and handing them their diplomas while an orchestra plays, and Rey can barely see the headmaster through her swollen, tear-stung eyes. As she walks back to the Gryffindor table after accepting the roll of parchment that bears her name in handsome gold ink, she glances over at the teachers’ section; Ben is looking at her with a combination of alarm, incredulity, and amusement.

She huffs and turns away from him, sticking her nose up in the air. So much for driving him mad with desire via the glamorous picture she makes in formalwear.

It’s a good thing that she already knows that she drives him mad with desire anyway.

And it’s not as though Obi-Wan’s speech does wonders for Rey’s composure, but he utters it with enough gravity that she can give him her full attention even while tears stream down her face.

“As has no doubt been surmised from recent events, the world can be a dark place,” the headmaster says into the silence that falls over the vast chamber after all the diplomas and special awards have been given out. “Everywhere there are forces—there are people with hate in their hearts—who threaten to destroy all that we hold dear. There are so many of these forces wherever you go that, at times, it can all seem hopeless. Quite insurmountable. So what is the antidote? Why, to believe that the world is still worth saving.” Obi-Wan makes a sweeping gesture that encompasses everyone in the Great Hall, then lifts his arms to the star-studded ceiling. “To believe in one another. To hold on to that belief and to let it help you keep fighting for what is right and what is just. As your professors, it is our humble hope that what we have taught you will help you in that fight. We are so proud of you, dear graduates. Be brave, be wise, be ambitious, be kind. And rise above. Congratulations!”

Rey blubbers as she applauds, along with nearly everyone else, but she’s probably the only one who incessantly carries on throughout the meal. This is her last Hogwarts dinner. She’s going to miss the food so much. She cries as she stuffs beef casserole and lamb chops and Cornish pasties into her mouth. Her tear-stained cheeks bulge with jacket potatoes and roast turkey and steak-and-kidney pies. Her housemates alternate between comforting her, teasing her, and crying along with her. She sobs all throughout a dessert course of chocolate gateau, jam doughnuts, eclairs, trifle, and her favorite treacle tarts.

When she looks over at Ben, through blurry eyes and with crumb-stained lips wobbling as she chews ferociously through a slice of cake, he’s hunched over, shoulders shaking… and laughing into a palm cupped over the lower half of his face. Chewie rumbles something at him—probably asking what’s wrong—but Ben just shakes his head, the tip of his nose red as he continues to give himself over to quiet peals of mirth.

✨✨✨

By eleven in the evening, Rey is all cried out. She regains her composure not a moment too soon—because it’s time for the party.

After curfew, the graduates trickle out of their common rooms in small groups and navigate the dark corridors of a mostly empty castle, all the way to the Room of Requirement. Word had spread before the graduation ceremony and during it, directions and instructions whispered from ear to ear.

It's not as though their professors are fools. Judging from how Poe Dameron had rolled his eyes after the feast—when some of the more theatrical students had yawned dramatically and made noises about being ever so excited to turn in after a long day—it’s a given that the faculty is all too aware that there will be shenanigans tonight. But they seem willing to look the other way just this once.

Rey wishes that the same can be said for Unkar Plutt. Hidden under the invisibility cloak, she and Finn and Rose scurry past the caretaker as he shuffles down one of the lesser used hallways, fervently mumbling to himself about catching rulebreakers. Mr. Pancakes is nowhere in sight, so Rey and her friends are extra careful, fearing that they might trip over the malodorous feline snoozing in some dimly lit corner and his yowls will expose them.

It had been decided that the party would take place in the Room of Hidden Things, to ensure that everyone uses the same parameters and can access the venue. Tallie, Jess, Kaydel, and Seff had been in charge of the decorations and, stepping into the vast chamber, Rey has to admit that they’ve done an amazing job. Streamers hang down from the ceiling in all the house colors. Huge congratulatory banners are strung between the towers of knickknacks. A space has been cleared in the middle to create a dance floor of sorts, the more breakable objects squirreled out of reach, and there are several buffet tables laden with snacks. There’s also a wizarding wireless in one corner playing the latest tunes, the volume magically amplified to echo off of the rafters.

Aside from all of that, there is a quite frankly ungodly amount of alcohol. They’re perched on their own separate tables, these bottles of champagne and Blishen’s Firewhisky and Paulopabita’s Fishy Green Ale and Daisyroot Draught and Pinnock’s Giggle Water and Gamp’s Old Gregarious. There are kegs of butterbeer and red currant rum and a plethora of mixers and ice cubes in buckets, as well as enough paper cups to drain Loch Ness.

“Merlin,” Finn whispers, his eyes round as he takes in all that there is to drink. “I’m going to perish tonight, me…”

Rey abstains from the stronger-smelling stuff, but she helps herself to slow sips of champagne. It’s one of the few times that she can drink, that she feels comfortable around those who are copiously drinking; these are her classmates of seven years and it’s all so safe and everyone is happy. Finn and Rose are quick to glare at anyone who tries to pressure Rey into doing shots—even as they eagerly partake in shots themselves.

The night goes by in a blur of music and laughter and silly dancing and all sorts of party games. Like most people, Rey had left her black robes and her pointy hat back in the dorms, and her red-and-gold skirt swishes around her knees as she and her friends move around the room, getting pulled into various conversations and group hugs and photo ops.

She can’t believe that there’d ever been a time that she believed few people in school could have cared less if she lived or died. Her insecurities had blinded her to the warmth of those she’d played Quidditch with, those she’d roomed with, those she’d done projects and revised with. She has considerably more friends now than back when she was eleven, and they’d all helped her out of her shell just as Ben has.

Rey can’t wait to see him. A little after the clock strikes one in the morning, she starts to plot excuses to slip away for a bit.

As it turns out, though, there isn’t really any need to bother.

Everyone else is sloshed.

Rey tells Rose that the crowd is grating on her nerves and she’s off to get some peace and quiet in the dorm and she’ll be back in a while; Rose nods drunkenly, then wastes no time in dragging Finn behind one of the shelves so that they can snog. Having no desire to witness her best friend stick a tongue down her other best friend’s throat, Rey hurries away, elbowing through the throng and having one last laugh at all that’s happening while she’s at it.

Sitting on the floor surrounded by bottles of firewhisky, Aleson Gray and his pureblood housemates are embroiled in some kind of high-stakes card game and they’re all arguing with one another because someone is apparently a cheat and a scoundrel. There’s a lot of finger-wagging and I say! and My father will hear about this going on.

A little further away, amidst the dancing students, Seff Hellin is wearing a lampshade on his head and he’s pulling off moves that have Tallie hiding her face in her hands, moaning to anyone who will listen about how she can’t believe she’s attracted to him.

Off to the side, Rey’s Quidditch teammates have found an old sled and are taking turns using it to surf the endless slopes of lost treasures, effusively showering one another with points based on some imaginary awarding system. Nearby, Jysella Horn and Pamich Nerro Goode are cheering Bazel Warv on as he guzzles from a beer bong cobbled together from a Fanged Frisbee and the spring from a Jack-in-the-Box.

By the door, Keyan Farlander is alone, slumped against an empty birdcage and puking into his shoe. Rey allows herself to snicker at him as she darts past.

Then she’s stepping out into the quiet corridor and slipping on the invisibility cloak, and she’s stealing away into the night on her golden heels.

✨✨✨

It’s been ages since Rey was last at the Astronomy Tower. Generally out-of-bounds except for classes, it’s the highest point in the castle, located atop a flight of winding steps.

She ascends this staircase feeling lighter than air. The sensation is intensified as soon as she sees Ben leaning against the wall of the circular room with his ankles crossed and his hands in his pockets, staring off into space. Like her, he’d discarded the formal outer robes that he wore to the graduation ceremony, leaving him in just a white dress shirt, a smoke-gray cravat, a black waistcoat with silver pinstripes, and dark trousers.

He'd rolled his shirtsleeves nearly up to his elbows again. Good boy.

Rey announces her presence with a discreet cough. Then she removes the invisibility cloak, letting it pool at her feet.

Ben’s perennial broody expression lightens at the sight of her. He holds a finger to his pouty lips, a command for silence that she obeys with no small amount of impatience. He casts the usual wards, adding the several more that are required of a public space—as well as some kind of shielding spell that obscures the balcony from the view of outsiders. Not that there would be anyone looking up at the Astronomy Tower at two in the morning, with the other faculty asleep and the other graduates severely injuring their respective dignities in the Room of Requirement and all of the younger students having gone home for the break.

But it’s better to be safe than sorry. They know that so well by now.

Once the tower is warded against intruders to Ben’s satisfaction, he takes Rey’s hand and leads her out onto the balcony. The refreshing July breeze blows cool on her face and the castle and its grounds are spangled silver beneath her feet. She never wants to go back down, she thinks, smiling as he crowds her up against where the wall ends and the balcony railing begins.

He braces one arm on the stone by her head; his other hand slides over her hip with a lazy possessiveness. “Well, Miss Niima?” he murmurs, leaning in so close that their noses almost touch. “Have you gone and gotten yourself fantastically debauched at the party that I definitely don’t know is happening right now?”

Rey giggles, her fingers creeping up his broad chest. “Hardly, Professor Solo. I just drank some champagne. It was good.”

“Oh?” Ben’s voice lowers, turns into something huskier and more intimate. “Let’s have a taste.”

He kisses her. Slowly at first, his clever tongue teasing the seam of her lips until she surrenders without a fight and lets him in. She plays with the sumptuous silk of his cravat. With the crisp collar of his shirt. With the soft waves of his star-dusted hair.

After a long and lovely while, he lifts his mouth from hers just the slightest bit. Just enough for him to quip, “I am mildly concerned that you’ll start weeping all over me at any second. Or is that privilege reserved for the steak-and-kidney pies?”

Rey scowls, her previous annoyance with him rushing back to her. “Shove off.”

Ben chuckles. He presses another, much briefer kiss to her lips in contrition before moving on to her neck. “You were so cute,” he hums in between gentle sucks to her sensitive skin. “To be more precise—you were gorgeous in your graduation robes and that pointy hat. Then you blew your nose on your sleeve while walking up to Obi-Wan to get your diploma, and you became so cute. Downright adorable. I wanted to eat you up right then and there.”

“Like you’re doing now,” she wryly points out. But she’s hardly complaining—especially when he laves at the pulse point in the groove of her neck. Especially when he nibbles on her bare shoulder. A sigh escapes her and she’s emboldened enough by the champagne that she grabs his wrist, firmly transferring his hand from her hip to her chest.

Ben is all too happy to oblige. He pops her right breast free of the wine-red bodice, uttering a soft growl of delight as he realizes that she’s not wearing a bra. He runs the pad of his thumb over her nipple as his mouth comes dangerously close to making marks on her throat.

Rey arches into his ministrations. Her hands are busy wandering over his back, his biceps, his lean hips. She commits the contours of him to her memory, her movements shading close to desperate. The slip of parchment bearing his New York address is tucked safely away in her book bag and she will write to him as soon as she’s settled in London, but their looming separation still kind of terrifies her. It doesn’t feel real.

He must sense her growing unease from the way she’s all but yanking at his clothes. He raises his head and meets her eyes, his gaze solemn and tender. His pale face haloed by the starry night sky. “I will visit,” he promises. “Once you’ve started your training at the British Ministry. Hell, I’ll come see you every weekend if that’s what you want. We can go around Europe so that we don’t have to worry about people seeing us together. Paris, Rome, Vienna, you name it.”

“It doesn’t have to be every weekend,” she says shyly. “I know that you’ll have a lot to do.”

Ben nuzzles at her cheek. “Let me rephrase that. Please let me visit you every weekend, Rey, or I’ll die.”

She snorts. “Oh, all right, then,” she says in the fakest put-upon tone in the history of humankind. “You may visit me every weekend.”

“Excellent.”

They’re both grinning when their lips meet again. But it’s not long before these grins fade and the kissing and touching turn ravenous, the two of them too conscious of time slipping away, of the secret moonlit hours fading fast. Soon he’s clawed both her breasts free of the bodice and he’s worshipping them in turn, leaving actual marks on the sides where they won’t be seen, swirling his tongue over each nipple until they’re hardened peaks in the cool night air. Her knickers are drenched from the stimulation, the place between her legs aching for more, aching to be filled.

The next time he slants his mouth over hers, she reaches down and blindly fumbles with the fastenings of his trousers until she manages to undo them. He groans against her lips when she pries his cock out of his underwear and pumps it urgently, his hips thrusting into the circle of her fingers.

“Need you,” she mumbles into their dizzying kiss. “Please.”

She doesn’t have to say anything else. He helps her slide down her knickers until they’re hanging off of one ankle and then he’s straightening up and aligning himself with her entrance as she hooks one leg over his hip. Thank Merlin that she’d thought to magic her heels shorter—if there had been even an inch more she would have been unable to keep her balance at the sensation of the thick cockhead splitting her open, working its way forward and, oh—

God. That first pressing in is always better than she remembers. Every damn time.

Rey tugs at Ben’s cravat, pulling him closer so that she can kiss him soundly as he sheathes his cock inside her. His large palm slips under her buttock, supporting her as he begins to move. A rolling of his hips, sinuous, the wet slap of skin on skin and her ragged moans filling the Astronomy Tower.

“Like a fucking glove.” His filthy, rumbled words are a stark contrast to how gently he’s stroking into her. “This tight pussy was one of the best parts of my year.”

“What—” Rey gasps as he slips in deep enough to brush against a particularly sensitive spot—“what were the other parts…?”

“Your tits. Your eyes.” He buries his nose in her hair. “Your ass. Your legs. Your freckles. Your magic. You.”

She rests her brow against his collarbone, breathing in his sandalwood scent. “I really love you, Ben,” she says, because she is free to say it, because she’ll never be over the joy of being able to say it.

His cock twitches inside her cunt. He thrusts a little harder, like he can’t help it, which elicits a pleasantly surprised little squeak from her parted mouth. “I really love you, too. Can’t wait to get married—I mean. Date,” he hastily corrects himself. “Date for real. That’s what I meant.”

Rey muffles yet another giggle into his shirtfront. Her head is spinning with the stars, with his promises. “Ben,” she admonishes, sweetly, playfully. “I’m only eighteen, y’know.”

He issues a pained-sounding sort of chuckle, then he kisses her forehead. “I know, baby.”

And then that familiar burning possessiveness seems to come over him and he starts slamming into her and she’s adoring every moment of it, stars exploding before her eyes that have nothing to do with the ones above. Rey throws her head back against the stone and Ben wastes no time in mouthing at her neck, flickers of added velvety sensation that drive her wild. She lets her professor fuck her up against the wall on the night of her graduation, her tits hanging out of her pretty red dress, her skirt rucked up her thighs while her oblivious classmates party on in another room.

And after a while she lets herself ask for more, lets herself give in to the desperate urgency that claws at her system. “I want—harder—” she scrapes out, almost incoherent as her body strains for that final push that will bring her over the edge.

Ben stops, which is, like, the complete opposite of what Rey needs, but before she can complain he’s leaning in close to whisper mischievously in her ear, “I have an idea.”

✨✨✨

He bends her over on the balcony, her hands gripping the railing.

It’s an adrenaline rush in itself, the July wind rustling through her hair, blowing on her exposed breasts. The moonlit grounds sprawled below her, the waters of the Black Lake shimmering in the distance.

Rey trembles with anticipation as Ben flips her red-and-gold skirt up past her hips. As he squeezes her ass and fingers her clit. She can’t see him. She doesn’t know when—

He plows into her with one forceful thrust. She’s wet enough that he slides all the way in with little resistance, but his cock is so long and thick and it had been so unexpected that she yelps.

“Hard enough for you, Miss Niima?” Ben drawls as he slams into her at a rougher pace.

“I—ooh—” Rey’s knuckles clench to white around the railing. Her eyelids flutter against the bright moonlight. Some dark, wicked urge makes her stammer out, all breathless, “Maybe too hard, sir, you’re so big—”

“You can take it.” His palm cracks against her ass. She seizes up, clenching down on him, and there’s a part of her that’s actually really sad that after tonight it will be a long time before she can get spanked again, but she’s determined not to dwell on it. She wiggles back against him, earning another lovely smack from that large, strong hand.

“You can take it,” Ben repeats in a deep, dangerous growl, grabbing hold of her hips and fucking into her roughly, “because you have been my most exceptional student, never faltering in the face of whatever challenges were thrown your way. You’ll take it because you are the most beautiful girl in the world, with your cute tits bouncing and your peachy ass red with my handprints. As red as your pretty dress.” With each powerful thrust he knocks the air from her lungs, knocks moans and a stream of whimpered Yesyesyes from her mouth. “You’ll take it,” he hisses as he reaches around her to rub haphazard circles on her pulsating clit, “because this is your graduation gift. A pussy full of your professor’s come.”

“Fuck,” Rey whines. The orgasm crashes through her, so intense that her ears ring and her knees buckle. She sinks closer to the floor, barely managing to brace herself against the railing just in time, but Ben doesn’t miss a beat, driving into her relentlessly as she quivers from her aftershocks, his thrusts frenzied and gradually losing all rhythm.

He spills inside her with a low roar, drenching her inner walls in a warm rush. Then he pulls out but he’s not done with her yet, she moans as she feels more of his spend trickling down her ass and spattering her lower back. He’s coming all over her. Marking her as his and only his as the clear summer night shines on.

✨✨✨

Rey’s a bit startled when, after putting her knickers back on for her and zipping himself up, Ben collapses to the floor, leaning his back against the railing, panting heavily. She scoots between his sprawled legs, snuggling against his chest and blinking up at him. It strikes her then just how weary he looks. Blissed out, yes, but also really… tired.

“You wore me out these last couple of weeks,” he explains, his tone containing the faintest hint of grumpiness even as he idly tweaks each of her still-exposed nipples. “I’ve never been so fucking exhausted and so exhausted fucking in all my life. My dick’s going to fall off, and then where will we be?”

She aims a light slap on his bicep. “You should’ve said!”

“It’s all right.” He nuzzles at her temple, one hand gingerly pulling her bodice over her chest. “You know that there’s nothing I won’t do for you.”

Rey bites back a smile. They cuddle until their heartrates have returned to normal, the wind cooling the sweat on their skin. From the balcony, she has a view of the wall clock inside the tower, and she soon realizes with a pang that she needs to go back to the Room of Requirement soon.

A trace of panic splinters through her. She turns in Ben’s arms and loops her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Ben,” she croaks, her mind racing with thoughts of the wide Atlantic that will soon be between them. “Wait for me.”

But he knows exactly what to say to allay her fears. He always has. He grips her in a tight embrace. “Until the end of time, beloved,” he vows in a hoarse murmur, and Rey closes her eyes and leans into him, knowing it to be true. Knowing that she is blessed.

✨✨✨

He sends her back to her classmates with more lingering kisses and whispered promises. She steps into the Room of Requirement to a scene of unbridled chaos. People are even more intoxicated than they’d been when she left. The music and the bright lights are somewhat jarring after the quiet, intimate hour she’d spent in the Astronomy Tower.

“Rey!” Rose hurries over to her. Rey gapes upon seeing the fluffy, hissing mass of dark fur nestled in the other girl’s arms. “He followed me in when I came back from the loo,” Rose explains. “I couldn’t bear to turn him away, he’s actually quite sweet, don’t you think?”

Mr. Pancakes yowls in protest. He starts gnawing on Rose’s hand, his yellow eyes narrowed in abject hatred.

“You’re drunk, Rose,” Rey says.

“Maybe so,” Rose sniffs. She peers at Rey, looking a little teary and wistful.

“What is it?” Rey ventures.

“It’s just that… you’ve changed so much since first year. In a good way,” Rose says earnestly. Her round cheeks are flushed and her gaze is sparkling with happiness. “I—I really loved growing up with you.”

Rey can’t bring herself to laugh at the fact that her best friend is so utterly faded and will have a monstrous hangover in the morning. Instead, she drapes an arm over Rose’s shoulders, careful to avoid Mr. Pancakes’ sharp, wildly slashing claws. “I really loved growing up with you, too.”

She ushers Rose and the stupid cat over to where the rest of Gryffindor House has gathered and they’re all now taking turns surfing the piles of artifacts. Finn hands the sled to Rey and she takes it, to an explosion of cheers.

“Go, Niima!”

“Attagirl! Show ‘em!”

Rey’s vision is filled with all the beaming faces. And with Ben’s wry, crooked grin, so unbearably handsome in the starlight, as he sent her off with one last warning to not do anything foolish at the party.

Sorry, professor, she thinks, with a fierce, blazing fondness and with all the love in her heart, as she climbs to the top of one wobbly pile and eases herself into the sled. The other graduates are waiting, with whoops and bated breath, for one last legendary stunt from Eurydice Niima.

Rey smiles at this great height, and she waits for the rest of her life to begin.