“This is a mistake.”

That was the first thing Esmerelda Hallow said when Miss Hardbroom read out the pairs.

“Esmerelda Hallow… and you.”

The classroom went quiet.

Esmerelda didn’t look at you—she stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, fingers tight around her wand. You could almost feel her irritation radiating across the table.

“The Draught of Binding requires absolute precision,” Miss Hardbroom continued coolly. “Any imbalance will result in magical backlash. You will work together. Failure is not an option.”

Esmerelda finally turned to you. Her eyes were sharp, assessing, already searching for weakness.

“Don’t slow me down,” she said flatly. “And don’t improvise.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” you replied.

The potion was infamous. Rare ingredients. Exact timing. One wrong stir and the mixture could solidify—or worse, bind the brewers instead.

You divided tasks in tense silence. Esmerelda measured ingredients to the milligram. You monitored the cauldron’s temperature, adjusting the flame with instinct rather than rules.

“You’re stirring too slowly,” she snapped.

“The heat’s unstable,” you countered. “If I rush it, it’ll curdle.”

She hesitated—just for a second—then said nothing.

Halfway through, the potion shuddered. The surface darkened, runes flaring along the rim of the cauldron.

“It’s reacting,” you said. “We’re losing balance.”

Esmerelda moved instantly. “Stabilization spell—now.”

You cast together. The magic surged, pushing back hard enough to knock you both off balance. For a moment, the potion glowed violently—

Then settled.

Silence.

Your breathing echoed in the room.

Miss Hardbroom approached, eyes narrowing as she inspected the cauldron. “Acceptable,” she said at last. “Barely.”

After class, Esmerelda packed her books without a word.

“You didn’t ruin it,” she said finally. “Which is… impressive.”