Essays... ugh...

[Kyle Winters]

The exchange heated up quickly as Missy delivered her riposte, but it was all in good fun. The lighthearted mood lingered in the air for a bit, before taking on a more heartfelt tone. “It’s a two-way street,” Kyle replied, recalling the numerous occasions when he had been the one to dive headlong into the fray with barely a plan—or sometimes even none at all—only to have things work out in their favour thanks to their mutual trust in each other.

Kyle met Missy’s gaze, and there was something in her green eyes, something that he had never seen before. A sense of uncertainty and vulnerability. And it was there too in the slightly raw quality of her voice as she revealed the struggled that he had never quite known about. His eyes softened; of course, everyone had their own demons, but hers had thus far been a mystery to Kyle, and he was surprised to learn how deep her troubles were.

That feeling of being alone… Kyle had to admit, despite everything that had happened to him, he had been fortunate enough to always have someone he could turn to for support, even if he rarely chose to. “People who don’t deserve your friendship eventually weed themselves out, I guess,” he offered, not quite sure if the words came out sounding as comforting as they did in his head. “But don’t be afraid of reaching out just because you might get hurt. You’d never know if the next person will turn out to be a true friend.”

A nervous laugh escaped his lips when Missy said that this would be his last year to keep her in check “Assuming I actually manage to graduate,” he sighed as he shook his head. “Somehow I’ve been scraping by year after year, but this time my luck might just run out.” And then his lips curled into a grin. “Maybe you’ll see me again next year, like a poltergeist that can’t be expelled.”

[Missy Dragonov]

Missy gave a soft huff of laughter, the kind that wasn’t so much loud as it was warm in her chest. Weeding themselves out—she supposed Kyle had a point. Still, her gaze lingered on him for a beat, her quill paused above her parchment, before she scribbled another half-sentence that trailed off when her thoughts got louder than her words.

“You make it sound so easy,” she muttered, though there wasn’t venom in it, only thoughtfulness. “Reach out. Trust people. My record of doing that isn’t exactly top of the class.” Her lips quirked in a rueful smile, and she shook her head. “Still… maybe you’re right. Maybe I should stop assuming everyone’s going to walk out the door the second I let them in.”

Her eyes flicked back to him, bright with a teasing edge, as if she wanted to shift away from the heaviness that had crept in. “As for you scraping by—don’t flatter yourself. You’d have washed out ages ago if I wasn’t around. I’ve practically carried you through half our Quidditch matches!”

She tapped her quill twice against her parchment, then tilted her head with a sly grin. “But if you do end up repeating the year… don’t think for a second I’ll let you haunt me. I’d exorcise you faster than Peeves on a bad day.”

Still, her smirk softened into something quieter, more genuine. “But… I don’t actually think your luck’s run out yet. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for, Kyle.”

[Kyle Winters]

Kyle gave an ambiguous shrug: reaching out was indeed easier said than done. But it wasn’t an impossible task. “The first step’s the hardest,” he said, “but often the only thing that’s stopping us is us. Us thinking that others don’t like us or won’t help us.” After glancing around the Common Room quickly to check if the coast was clear, he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Your record’s better than about half the team, our dear Captain included.“

“Me, washed out?” he replied with mock incredulousness and indignation, but ultimately he let Missy’s words slide as he shook his head resignedly. “I’d admit, there’s a shred of truth there. But just the tiniest shred, all right?” He held up a hand with his index finger and thumb almost touching each other to emphasise how tiny it was. Not that it was a bad thing. Far from it in fact – every instance of Missy swooping in to save the day after his risky gambit was a long shot that paid off for the team. “And you carrying me through half the matches? I prefer to call it ‘teamwork’,” he added, his cheeky grin returning.

“Does this mean you’re volunteering yourself the next time Peeves causes any trouble?” Kyle countered. “Anyway, I’m not so easy to get rid off. You know how many people have tried, but guess who’s still here, irking the shite out of them just by existing.”

Missy’s comment about him being tougher than he thought caught him off guard. “I guess so,” he said after mulling over it for a few moments. “Or maybe I’m just too dumb to give up and too stubborn to die,” he joked.

“Don’t sell yourself short either. You’re one tough cookie yourself.” He looked up from his notes at her, trying to read her expression. “Just being here and showing up every day even though it’s difficult – that takes courage and strength.”