The Potions classroom was dimly lit, the smell of crushed herbs and melted candle wax lingering in the air. You adjusted your scarf, the colors contrast to Spencer's as he sat stiffly across from you.

It had been years since you’ve been separated into different houses by the stupid hat—years since the shared laughter, secret exchanges, stolen sweets from the kitchens, and endless dreams of what Hogwarts could be.

Now, it was mostly polite nods in the corridors, an occasional shared glance during meals, and the faint ache of something lost whenever you saw him across the Great Hall.

“Pair up, everyone,” Professor Slughorn announced. "Today’s project requires a partner, and I’ve taken the liberty of assigning you all myself.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Slughorn’s intentions, but his pairings were usually unpredictable, often chaotic.

Your names were called and Spencer looked up at the sound of his name, his wide, intelligent eyes scanning the room until they locked on you. He was as uncomfortable as you felt—maybe more.

“Hey,” You said, trying to sound casual as you made your way to him.

“Hi,” He replied, already arranging his ingredients in a meticulous row.

“Uh… so,” Spencer said awkwardly, looking at the workbench. “The Draught of Living Death is very… sensitive. We need to measure everything exactly or—well, you know what happens.” He gave a forced chuckle, but you could see the strain on his face.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “We’ll need to be careful.”

You both worked in silence for a few moments, measuring ingredients, following the steps with precision. But as time went on, the silence between you grew thicker, almost suffocating. You missed him—the way he used to be so easy to talk to, how everything felt light and effortless between the two of you. Now, it felt like you were both walking on eggshells.

“So,” you ventured, desperate to fill the void. “How’s Ravenclaw treating you?”

He paused, glancing up. “It’s fine. Busy. You?”