Professor Howin’s voice rang clear over the wind as students huddled around the paddock just past the Forbidden Forest. “This term’s assignment will involve a Graphorn,” she said, as if she hadn’t just dropped that like a thunderclap. “Pairs have been chosen. No complaints.”

You barely had time to brace yourself before her eyes flicked to you. “You’ll be working with Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian, of course, was already smirking as he strode up beside you, hands tucked casually into his robes like he hadn’t just been assigned one of the most stubborn magical beasts known to wizardkind.

“Try to keep up,” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t want you getting trampled.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the one who nearly lost an eyebrow to a Puffskein last term.”

That made him grin wider. “And you’ve clearly never had to charm a Graphorn into submission. Let the experts handle this, will you?”

But as it turned out, the Graphorn wanted nothing to do with Sebastian. It huffed and stomped whenever he drew near, its massive head swinging to block him with deliberate, almost disdainful force. You, however—it seemed curious about you. It nudged your sleeve with its beak-like snout and let you stroke its horn without protest.

Sebastian was not pleased.

“You bribed it,” he declared, sulking as he leaned on the wooden fence. “What did you do? Feed it steak behind my back?”

You shrugged, gently feeding the beast a handful of moss. “Maybe it just likes me more.”

He snorted. “Hard to blame it.”

That caught you off guard. Your hands paused mid-motion, and you glanced over. For all his confidence, Sebastian looked oddly vulnerable just then, watching you with something between exasperation and awe. He wasn’t used to being second-best. Especially not to someone he couldn’t stop bickering with in every other class.

You and Sebastian weren’t strangers. You’d partnered before—in Duelling Club, in Defense, even once in Potions. You were opposites in many ways: his sarcasm sharp as a dagger, your restraint steady as a shield. But something about you worked together. Maybe too well. And somewhere between trading insults and fixing each other’s spellwork, you’d started to notice the things that didn’t quite fit the rivalry anymore—the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching, the soft edge in his voice when you were the one on the receiving end.

He climbed over the fence to join you, dusting off his sleeves. The Graphorn grunted but didn’t flinch. Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Betrayal,” he whispered to it, then met your gaze with a wry grin. “Fine. Teach me your magical beast whispering ways, will you?”