The day of the Yuletide Ball finally arrived, and students began to shuffle eagerly into the transformed Great Hall. The space had become an enchanted winter wonderland, with walls adorned in glistening snow and festive decorations. Garlands of holly intertwined with red ribbons framed the room, while enchanted snow fell gently from the ceiling, adding to the atmosphere without chilling the air, which remained warm and inviting.
Unlike the crowded Samhain Ball, the turnout was thinner, as many students had departed for the holidays. Even so, there was still a sizeable mix of students from various years, races, and backgrounds. The long tables were sheathed in crystalline, enchanted ice—beautiful to behold and cool to the touch, but never cold.
The buffet table was a masterpiece in itself, laden with a banquet of delights fit for royalty. There were prime cuts of roast meats, wheels of gourmet cheeses, and ornate platters of dishes seasoned to perfection. Towers of desserts stood proudly on silver trays: cakes, tarts, éclairs, and sweets of every description. Helga, dressed in a flowing yellow gown that seemed to shimmer like sunlight, stood before the table, her amber eyes sparkling with anticipation. She licked her lips, wiggling her fingers as if deciding where to begin her feast.
Nearby, Salazar observed her with an amused expression, his tall frame clad in a sleek black tuxedo accented by a forest-green bow tie. His dark hair was neatly combed back, his faint green highlights catching the enchanted lights. A golden goblet rested in his hand, swirling with rich raspberry juice.
"I must admit," Salazar began, his tone carrying its usual lilt of amusement, "drinks taste far sweeter after triumphing over adversity." He raised his goblet slightly in a mock toast. "Challenges we've not only faced but prevailed against. That being said…" His emerald gaze shifted to Rowena, who stood beside him.
She wore an elegant, sapphire-blue gown with intricate golden embroidery that shimmered under the soft glow of the enchanted lights. Her raven-black hair was pinned up in an intricate style, accented by delicate gold chains that glinted against her dark blue highlights. Her makeup was subtle yet flawless, her gloved hands lightly holding a glass of grape juice.
"I never thought I'd see you here, Rowena," Salazar continued, his grin widening, "Aren't you the one who constantly bemoans social events? Hell must have frozen over, surely." He gave her an appraising look. "And by the way, you look absolutely breathtaking."
Rowena chuckled, raising her glass to her lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Salazar," she said with a smirk. "Or have you forgotten? I'm a married woman."
Salazar groaned theatrically. "For the love of all things sacred, do not remind me," he said, shuddering. "The fact still disturbs me to no end. Please spare me the mental image."
Rowena laughed softly, her sapphire eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just because I detest these gatherings doesn't mean I'm entirely opposed to them. And besides…" Her voice softened. "I wouldn't miss this one for the world, given everything."
"Ah, yes," Salazar said, "Godric and his lovely plus one." He raised his goblet in another mock toast. "To be fair, I'm happy for him. Truly. After everything he's endured, the boy deserves a proper happy ending, wouldn't you say?"
"To that, we are in complete agreement, Salazar," Rowena said smoothly, raising her glass. Salazar gave a small, approving smirk before tapping his goblet against hers, the delicate chime of crystal meeting gold resonating softly through the air.
A sudden crash of plates and a startled yelp drew their attention to the buffet table. Helga's voice rang out, loud enough to compete with the lively music in the background. Rowena rolled her eyes and set her glass down with a resigned sigh.
"I suppose I'd better see what mess Helga's gotten herself into this time," she said, already moving. "Honestly, the way she hoards food, it's like dealing with a human python."
"Do not insult the pythons, Rowena," Salazar quipped, his grin returning. "They're far more dignified creatures."
As Rowena walked away, a familiar voice sounded.
"Hey."
Salazar turned, his emerald eyes narrowing as they settled on Helena. She stood before him in a flowing crimson gown that shimmered like polished rubies. Her brown hair cascaded in soft waves, and gold earrings glinted against her skin. Her face was lightly adorned with makeup that highlighted her natural beauty. Despite her appearance, Salazar's expression remained cold. He took a deliberate sip from his goblet before stepping past her, as if to leave.
"Salazar, come on," Helena called after him. "How long are you going to stay mad at me?"
He halted, turning back to face her with a glare. "Oh, let's see," he drawled. "Considering you decided to vanish without a word and leave the rest of us to fend for ourselves, I'd say I've earned the right to stay upset for the rest of eternity."
"I told you, I'm an Overseer," Helena said sharply, her brown eyes narrowing. "My duty to The Congregation comes first. It's an oath I swore. If they'd caught me, I would've been Excommunicado."
Salazar's laughter was bitter, his smile void of humor. "Ah, yes, your noble oath," he mocked. "Tell me, Helena, was that supposed to make me feel better? Or is it just your feeble excuse for abandoning us?"
"Oh, spare me the theatrics," Helena snapped. "You knew exactly what you were getting into the moment you agreed to it. Did you honestly think a Bellum Inter Duos would come with no repercussions? The Old Ways and the Old Laws may govern The Congregation, but the rules of the world still apply." Her gaze softened slightly, though her words remained firm. "Regardless of it all, you're still my friends. Every single one of you."
"Friends?" He scoffed. "You've got a funny way of showing it. Were you wearing an Invisibility Cloak when we faced not only Headmaster Blaise but an Adjudicator from the Clock Tower? Admit it—you ran. You hid. You chose to save your own skin, plain and simple. Because, heavens forbid, you'd shoulder any of those so-called repercussions alongside your friends."
Helena's face hardened. "Oh, that's rich coming from you, Salazar! You were in this for yourself from the start. I saw how you maneuvered through it all, practically salivating at the chance to throw Godric to the wolves. Don't act like you're standing on some moral high ground now."
Salazar's expression darkened. "That's neither here nor there," he snapped. "And besides, where were you when the dust settled? No visits to the Hospital Wing, no messages, not even a card. Tell me, Helena, where was your so-called friendship then?"
Helena hesitated, her gaze faltering. "We aren't supposed to make contact," she admitted softly. "The Congregation doesn't want its agents tied to individuals who've been in the duel. Prefects might recognize me, and Gabriel's immunity doesn't extend to the rest of us."
"Convenient excuses," Salazar bit back. "I thought you were better than that. I considered you a friend, but you've shown where your priorities lie." He drew a sharp breath. "And let me be clear: it's not my trust you need to regain. If Godric forgives you, then perhaps I will too. Until then…" He stepped closer. "You want to know how it felt when you disappeared? Let me show you."
With that, he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving Helena standing alone, her hands clenched tightly at her sides as the lively music of the ball continued unabated.
****
Godric stood at the base of the grand staircase; his hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his impeccably tailored tuxedo. His bow tie sat perfectly centered, and his fiery red hair, now sleeked back, gleamed under the crystal lights. He exhaled softly, checking his breath against the back of his hand before straightening his jacket one final time. His composure faltered as his crimson eyes drifted upward, catching sight of her.
Raine descended the staircase, her silver dress shimmering like moonlight on a tranquil lake. The delicate fabric cascaded gracefully; each step she took accentuating the fluid beauty of her gown. Her long, silvery hair fell like a curtain of light, catching the glow of the crystal chandeliers. Her golden eyes, warm and radiant, locked with his, and a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. The golden bracelet adorned with the ruby lion charm sparkled against her wrist, a testament to their bond.
Godric stood rooted. His breath caught in his throat. As Raine reached the bottom of the staircase, he shook off his daze.
"Raine, you look..." He paused, struggling for the right words. "You look absolutely stunning."
She glanced down at her dress, her fingers brushing nervously over the fabric. Her wolfen tail wagging softly behind her. "Do you think so? Sophia and Hikari helped me get ready. I'm not really good with dresses or makeup, and—"
Godric cut her off gently, shaking his head. "You're perfect just as you are," he said sincerely. Taking her hand, he offered a playful bow. "Shall we, Your Majesty?"
Raine chuckled. "Ever the tease, Godric Gryffindor."
Together, they made their way down the corridor and stepped into the Grand Hall. The transformation of the room into a sparkling winter wonderland paled in comparison to the vision walking beside him. As they entered, every head turned. The students parted like waves, whispers and exclamations rippling through the crowd.
"She looks incredible," someone murmured.
"Is that the pelt everyone's talking about?" another voice questioned.
Some faces lit up with genuine smiles, others frowned with hesitation or outright disapproval. Godric felt their eyes on them—admiration, envy, disdain—all blending into the hum of the grand event. His jaw tightened slightly, but a glance at Raine's glowing face eased the tension.
In the corner, he spotted Údar and Cú. They were dressed sharply in matching suits, a rare sight for Údar, whom Salazar had often joked about being allergic to anything remotely feminine. Both raised their glasses in a cheerful toast, their vibrant grins cutting through the formality of the night.
Nearby, Adrian and his former Calishans sat together, subdued but united. They nodded solemnly, raising their glasses in acknowledgment. At the Visionaries' table, Genji sat with arms folded, a small, approving smile on his face as he nodded toward Godric. Beside him, Elaina waved enthusiastically, her excitement evident. Next to her was a striking woman Godric didn't recognize. Her sharp features and sapphire-blue hair framed a gaze that lingered on him with quiet intensity as she tucked a strand behind her ear.
At the long table ahead, the professors sat in stately arrangement, their collective attention drawn to Godric and Raine. Professor Workner, ever the picture of warmth, adjusted his glasses and offered a genuine smile of approval. Beside him, Professor Serfence maintained his usual stern expression, though it seemed tempered tonight. He gave a curt nod of acknowledgment, a rare gesture from the man. While Professor Duchannes, Eridan, Lotho, Rasputin and Lagduf gave Godric the same look of solidarity.
Most notable was Headmaster Blaise, seated at the center of the table. His kind eyes softened as they met Godric's gaze, and he lifted his goblet in a silent salute, the corners of his mouth pulling into a warm smile. The boy returned the gesture, a nod of gratitude shared between them.
Turning to Raine, Godric squeezed her hand gently, grounding himself in her steady presence. They moved further into the Grand Hall, his focus narrowing to the warmth of her presence beside him. Whatever stares or whispers followed them, they were together, and that was all that mattered.
****
Headmaster Blaise rose gracefully from his chair. "A very best of evenings to you all, and Yuletide greetings," he began, his tone warm yet commanding. "As we close this term and celebrate with holiday cheer, I extend my thoughts to our students who are absent, no doubt enjoying the season with their families. Tonight, we take a moment to reflect on the trials…" His gaze drifted meaningfully to Godric and Raine, lingering with quiet acknowledgment.
Godric interlocked his fingers with Raine's gently, and she returned his gesture with a soft smile.
"…and tribulations we have faced," Blaise continued. "The friends and loved ones we've gained," his words softened, "and those we have lost. Yet, through it all, this season reminds us to cherish what we have and to hold dear those who bring us joy and purpose."
His sharp blue eyes scanned the room, landing briefly on each table. "As we prepare to welcome the new year, I hope each of you will embrace it with…" His gaze fell upon Helga, who had frozen mid-bite into a turkey leg, her expression sheepish. "Strength."
The hall rippled with soft chuckles as he turned to Rowena, whose composed smile spoke volumes. "Loyalty."
Next, his eyes shifted to Salazar, who smirked. "Ambition."
The headmaster's gaze then settled on Nerida, resplendent in a flowing white dress, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders. She folded her arms, exuding quiet confidence. "Versatility."
Finally, his attention rested on Godric, who straightened instinctively under the headmaster's kind yet penetrating gaze. "And, of course," Blaise said with a warm smile, "Courage."
The hall seemed to hold its breath for a moment before Blaise clapped his hands together, the sound echoing like a bell. "And now, without further ado, let the Yuletide Ball begin!"
****
[Song - So Close by Jon McLaughlin, from the movie Enchanted]
The enchanted ceiling above dimmed gently, casting the hall in a soft, ethereal glow as the lights softened. A spotlight illuminated the stage where a group of students, poised with instruments, began to play. The tender strumming of violins wove seamlessly with the lilting keys of a piano, their harmony wrapping the room in a sweet, delicate melody. A Fourth Year, his youthful voice pure and resonant, began to sing, gliding effortlessly across the tune. Couples started to rise, hand in hand, making their way to the dance floor where they began to waltz, their movements graceful upon the polished surface.
Raine and Godric exchanged smiles, their faces tinged with a faint blush as they joined the flow, walking toward the center of the floor.
"Just so you know," Raine said with a soft chuckle. "I still don't know how to dance."
"That's alright, my darling," Godric said. "Neither do I." He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.
Their steps moved tentatively at first, guided not by expertise but by the rhythm of the music and the bond between them. Raine's eyes locked with Godric's, the world around them fading into the background. Her golden gaze sparkled, reflecting the soft lights above. As they swayed, a cascade of memories washed over her—nights spent gazing out of a small, grimy window in the kitchen, watching the students twirl at a distance. Yet now, she stood here, free, her feet gliding across the very floor she'd once only dreamed of stepping upon.
The phantom weight of the collar around her neck lingered briefly, a shadow of the past. But its absence was a testament to everything she had overcome. And in front of her was the man who had made it possible, the one who had fought for her freedom, who had risked everything. Godric wasn't just her mate; he was her world—her hero, her guiding light.
Godric, for his part, gazed at Raine with unspoken devotion, his heart swelling with pride and love. To him, she was more than his partner; she was his future. He marveled at her resilience, her strength, and her warmth. In this moment, nothing else mattered. The whispers and stares that had followed them earlier faded into insignificance.
As they swayed to the melody, Raine's gaze drifted to the corner of the hall. There, she caught sight of Sophia, tears of joy streaming down her face, and Hikari beside her, waving enthusiastically with a wide, toothy grin. Raine offered them a soft smile in return.
Leaning her head against Godric's chest, Raine closed her eyes, the gentle thrum of his heartbeat steady and reassuring. In his arms, she felt at peace, untouchable. If this was heaven, she thought, she never wanted it to end.
****
Rowena lingered by the buffet table, her fingers lightly gripping a crystal goblet. She observed the students as they swayed gracefully to the music, the shimmering lights casting an ethereal glow over the scene. Her sapphire eyes flickered between the dancers and her drink, a small, wistful smile gracing her lips, tinged with a subtle sadness.
"Well, now, what's a beautiful lady like you doing all alone on such a magical evening?"
The familiar voice made her breath catch as she turned sharply, her eyes widening in surprise. Standing before her was Bran, his warm, lime-green eyes gleaming behind frameless glasses. He was impeccably dressed in a sleek navy-blue tuxedo, the white shirt beneath it pristine, complemented by a matching bow tie. His hair was neatly groomed, swept back with an effortless charm, and his smile was as warm as ever.
"Bran!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd already left for Camelot."
Bran chuckled softly. "Let's just say I've decided to take an extended leave. The Clock Tower can survive without me for one more evening," he teased. "Besides, a little birdie mentioned that a most captivating young lady was standing by the buffet table without a dance partner."
Rowena's cheeks flushed as her gaze darted toward Salazar, who sat nearby with Helga. Salazar gave a subtle nod while Helga, mid-bite into a massive piece of ham, gave her an enthusiastic wave. Rowena let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.
"Hm, I wonder who this mysterious birdie could be," she mused.
Bran extended his gloved hand with a playful bow. "Milady, may I have the honor of this dance?"
Rowena's smile softened, her blush deepening. "You may, Ser Ravenclaw," she said, slipping her hand into his. "You may indeed."
Together, they made their way to the dance floor. Bran's hand rested gently on her waist, and her hand found its place on his shoulder. As they began to sway in time with the music, Rowena felt a sense of comfort and warmth settle over her. For the first time that evening, her smile was unburdened, radiating pure joy as they twirled beneath the enchanted ceiling.
****
Cú watched Rowena and her brother make their way to the dance floor, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He turned toward Údar, lifting a finger as if to speak. "Ah—"
"Not even in your wildest dreams, ya feckin' gobshite," Údar cut him off sharply, her piercing eyes narrowing as she took a measured sip from her goblet.
Cú let out a defeated sigh, sinking back into his chair with a dramatic huff. He folded his arms across his chest, muttering under his breath. "Didn't even get the bloody words out…"
****
At the Visionary table, Genji rose gracefully from his seat, offering a hand toward Sarissa. "May I have the honor, Sarissa-chan?" he asked with a warm smile.
Sarissa's eyes widened slightly, and she cleared her throat, shaking her head. "Oh, Genji, you know I've got two left feet," she said. "And besides, I've never been one for the spotlight."
Genji chuckled softly, his demeanor as calm as ever. "To each their own, I suppose," he replied with a small bow. Then, turning to Elaina, he extended his hand again. "How about you, Elaina-chan?"
Elaina's eyes went wide, her face immediately flushing a deep shade of red. She stammered, glancing nervously at Sarissa, who looked equally stunned. "S-Senpai, I couldn't possibly… I mean, I've never—"
"Please, I insist," Genji said gently, his smile reassuring.
After a moment of hesitation, Elaina blushed harder but placed her hand in his. Genji guided her toward the dance floor, his confidence steady and unwavering. Though Elaina was shorter than him, Genji led her steps with grace, ensuring she felt comfortable.
Back at the table, Sarissa watched the scene unfold, her arms crossing as she bit her lower lip, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. "Not even a second glance," she muttered under her breath.
****
Professor Workner leaned quietly against the wall, his steel-grey eyes gazing out over the swaying students on the dance floor. The soft music and flickering lights filled the Great Hall with warmth and joy, yet his expression remained wistful, tinged with the weight of bittersweet memories. The events of recent weeks had stirred up thoughts of simpler, happier times. He glanced down at his hand, the glint of a ring resting in his palm. A soft, almost melancholic smile played on his lips as he tucked it back under his shirt.
"It's unlike you to be brooding in the corner during a ball, Workner," a familiar voice broke through his reverie. Professor Serfence approached, his signature glass of red wine in hand. "That's usually my department."
Workner glanced up, startled, before relaxing into a wry smile. "Sometimes a man just wants to be alone with his thoughts, Edward," he said, swirling the brandy in his glass. "These past few weeks have felt like a lifetime."
Serfence chuckled softly, leaning his back against the wall beside him. "I was just reminiscing about the last time we all attended the Yuletide Ball together," he said. "You couldn't find a date, and Creedy…" He paused, grinning. "He managed to charm that rather… robust orc girl from Terra."
Workner couldn't help but laugh, slapping his thigh. "Oh, by the Gods, how could I forget? He limped for weeks after that night. Poor bastard."
"And we made sure to remind him of it at every opportunity," Serfence added, his chuckle fading into a bittersweet smile as he stared into his wine. "That was also the night I asked Amelia to be my sweetheart."
"She looked so happy," Workner said, his own expression softening with nostalgia. "Though, if I recall, you weren't quite so composed the next morning."
"Don't remind me," Serfence groaned, rolling his eyes. "I swear, I can still feel her claws on my back. Now…" He trailed off, his gaze drifting toward the students on the dance floor. "All that's left are the memories."
"I ran into Creedy this morning," Workner said, his gaze distant as he stared into his glass. "When he saw me, he turned and walked the other way." His brow furrowed, a mix of anger and sadness clouding his expression. "Seeing him like that—broken, defeated—it stirred something in me. The boy I once was, that sweet, naive child, looked at him with sorrow, mourning the friend he used to be. But the man I am now… I can't let go of the anger and disgust for what he became." He sighed deeply. "I don't even know how to feel anymore."
"The boy we once called a friend disappeared years ago, Workner," Serfence replied, his dark eyes narrowed in thought. "You need to let that go. It's tempting to reflect on what might have led him down this path, but sometimes, the truth is simpler—and harsher. Perhaps we never truly knew him at all."
Workner shook his head slowly, his grip tightening on the brandy glass. "Still, twelve years a slave…" His words trailed off as he frowned. "It feels… brutal. Excessive."
Serfence turned to his friend. "Trust me, compared to a decade in Revel's End, it's an act of mercy." His expression grim. "I've seen what they do to prisoners there. The punishments, the isolation… it's a living nightmare. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."
Workner looked at him, his eyes shadowed with conflict. "And yet, knowing all this, I can't shake the thought that somewhere deep down, the Creedy we once knew might still exist."
Serfence's expression hardened. "The man you saw this morning isn't your friend, Workner. He made his choices. And those choices led him to where he is now. Don't let the past blind you to the reality in front of you."
His dark eyes then settled particularly on Raine and Godric, twirling together in the center of the hall. "Speaking of which, are you going to tell the lad?" he asked quietly.
Workner's face tightened, and he exhaled heavily. "Tomorrow," he said. "I gave Bran my word that he'd have an answer by then."
"It feels cruel," Serfence muttered. "To come so close, only to be denied at the final hurdle. I tried everything—exploiting every loophole, dodging every obstacle, bending every bloody rule." He shook his head, frustration etched into his features.
"But those gutless pencil-pushers in the Tower, so adamant that the laws be followed to the letter…" His eyes darkened as he scoffed. "I've never been so tempted to strangle a Magistrate until now."
"No one doubts your efforts, Edward," Workner said. "The lad would appreciate all you've done, all you tried to do. You've done more than most would even attempt."
Serfence exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on his wine glass. "I warned that foolish boy this path would be dark, treacherous, and lonely." His words tinged with regret. "I hate being right about such things."
"Godric's a strong young man," Workner replied. "I have faith he'll find his way. Sometimes, it's in the darkest of moments that we discover the strength of our light."
"Ever the Ignis optimist." Serfence scoffed lightly. "Forgive me if I don't indulge in proverbs—I was Ferrum for a reason. I trust only iron-clad absolutes." He sighed. "But… I certainly hope you're right."
Workner's gaze lingered on Raine as she laughed, her golden eyes sparkling in the light. "It's not Godric I pity most," he said softly. "It's Miss Raine… it feels monstrous."
Serfence placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "If you want, I can be there when you tell him."
"No, Edward." Workner shook his head firmly. "This is my responsibility. I'll handle it."
Serfence hesitated before nodding. "As you wish," he said, heavy with understanding. Giving his friend a final pat on the shoulder, he turned and walked away, leaving Workner alone with his thoughts once more.
"May the Gods forgive me," Serfence murmured with a weariness that seemed to seep into the very air. He shut his eyes, as though trying to shield himself from the weight of his own words. "May the Gods forgive us all."
****
"Aww, look at those lovebirds," Helga said, her amber eyes glowing warmly as she watched Godric and Raine dance together, followed by Rowena and Bran. A wistful smile graced her face as she popped a strawberry tart into her mouth, savoring its sweetness. "They look so adorable, don't they?"
"Excluding Rowena and Bran, of course," Salazar remarked dryly, standing behind her chair and swirling the remnants of his goblet. "For… obvious reasons."
"Oh, come on, Salazar," Helga replied with a cheeky grin. "Who cares if they grew up together? What matters is how they feel about each other."
"Forgive me for not sharing your disturbingly open-minded view of relationships," Salazar said, folding his arms. His emerald eyes scanned the dance floor, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. The music swelled as the song moved into its final crescendo, casting an enchanting glow over the hall.
"You know," Helga began, glancing slyly at Salazar. "It's not too late to ask your darling fiancée for a dance."
Salazar chuckled, shaking his head. "The day I convince Údar to step onto a dance floor will be the day the world collapses into fire and brimstone. Frankly, I'd have better luck persuading a cave troll to marry me."
Helga laughed, nearly spilling her butterbeer as she shook her head. "Fair enough—she is kind of terrifying. But honestly, Salazar, it wouldn't kill you to find someone to love. Not an arranged marriage or some convenient betrothal. I mean real love, you know? We're only young once."
Salazar arched a brow, his smirk curling mischievously. "Oh? And I suppose you have found someone, dear Helga?"
Helga hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly as she looked away. "Maybe I have," she said coyly, twirling the stem of her goblet between her fingers.
Salazar leaned forward; his emerald eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Well, this is a revelation! Do share with the class, Helga. Who's the lucky soul?"
"Uh-uh, Salazar." Helga grinned, wagging her finger at him. "A girl's got to have her secrets. Besides, it's much more fun keeping you guessing."
Salazar scoffed playfully, leaning back. "Fine, keep your little mystery, Hufflepuff. But don't think for a moment that I won't figure it out eventually."
Helga raised her goblet in mock toast. "Good luck. You'll need it."
He glanced down into his empty goblet and straightened. "Well, I appear to be in dire need of a refill. Don't cause too much trouble while I'm gone." With that, he turned and strolled off toward the refreshment table, leaving Helga grinning after him.
****
Salazar was halfway to the punch bowl, his eyes fixed on the shimmering liquid illuminated by the soft overhead lights. Just as he reached out, he collided with someone, sending his goblet clattering to the marble floor. His emerald eyes widened as he instinctively steadied the figure leaning into him.
"Helena?" he exclaimed, half-annoyed, half-shocked.
"Salabzar!" Helena slurred, her cheeks flushed and her hair a bit tousled. She swayed in his arms, her expression a curious mix of frustration and goofy defiance. "You're such an ass, you know that? After everything I've done—" She hiccupped, waving the goblet in her hand.
Salazar arched an incredulous brow, his gaze zeroing in on the glass. He sniffed its contents, his expression shifting to exasperation. "This is wine. You're drunk." He groaned. "How in Avalon's name did you manage to swipe this from the teachers' table?"
Helena gave a tipsy grin. "That's for me to know and you to…" She wobbled, leaning further into him. "…never to find out."
Salazar sighed, exhaling sharply as he slipped an arm around her for support. "Helena, you've truly outdone yourself this time. Of all the evenings…"
"And so what if I am?" she retorted. "It's not like you care, Salabzar. You only care about yourself."
His lips quirked in a wry smile as he steadied her. "You're making it awfully hard to stay angry with you, you know that?"
She blinked up at him, her expression softening before her head lolled slightly to the side. "What?" she murmured dreamily. "Is the party over?"
Salazar chuckled dryly. "For you, it just might be." With that, he adjusted his hold on her and started leading her toward the door. "Let's get you back before you turn this into an even bigger disaster."
****
The heavy door creaked as it swung open, the sound echoing in the quiet dormitory hall. Warm light from the crystal wall sconces flickered to life, casting a soft glow over the tidy room. Salazar stepped inside, supporting Helena, who was draped lazily against him, her breath carrying the unmistakable tang of wine. His sharp emerald eyes scanned the room.
It was immaculate—almost obsessively so. The bed was perfectly made, the desk pristine, quills lined up with military precision. Books were arranged in neat alphabetical rows on polished mahogany shelves. Salazar smirked to himself. "Of course," he muttered under his breath.
He kicked the door shut with his heel, guiding Helena into the center of the room. "Well, here we are," he said. "I'd say you're in for a spectacular headache tomorrow, but a solid night's sleep should do the trick."
Helena looked up at him, her hazy brown eyes searching his face. "Salabzar," she whispered. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to abandon you. Any of you." Her cheeks were flushed, and her tone carried a sincerity that only wine could amplify.
Salazar sighed, shifting his weight. "This isn't the time, Helena. Nor the place. Let's save this conversation for when you're… how shall I put this… less inebriated." He grimaced as he caught another whiff of her wine-soaked breath. "And perhaps more coherent."
Helena's gaze narrowed, a spark of defiance breaking through her haze. "This," she hiccupped, "is exactly your problem, Salabzar." She wobbled closer, forcing him to steady her. "Everything's a joke to you. But I see you. I know you. You think you're so clever, so mysterious. But really, all you do is push everyone away."
He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off with a pointed finger to his chest. "And here I am," she continued, her words slurring but still sharp, "trying to tell you how I feel, and you just brush me off. Always. Like you don't care. Like… like a snake slithering in circles."
Salazar pinched the bridge of his nose. "For heaven's sake, Helena," he muttered.
Her gaze turned fiery, frustration and something deeper flickering in her wine-glossed eyes. "You infuriate me," she said. "So much. So… so much…"
And then, without warning, she rushed forward and kissed him.
Salazar's eyes widened in shock as he stumbled backward, bumping into her meticulously arranged shelves. A cascade of trinkets and picture frames tumbled to the floor with a clatter. Helena's fingers worked quickly, tugging at his bow tie and fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.
"Helena—what are you doing?" he managed.
She didn't answer, her actions fueled by a chaotic mix of alcohol and emotion. Salazar froze for a moment, unsure how to handle the situation. One thing was certain: tonight was shaping up to be far more complicated than he'd anticipated.