Chapter 3
The days passed, and Soyeon’s confusion only grew. Yuqi’s behavior didn’t change overnight—she was still sharp-tongued and demanding when others were around, but when they were alone, her hostility seemed... muted. The insults were half-hearted, her tone less venomous. Soyeon couldn’t shake the memory of her mother’s surgery being paid for—an unspoken favor hanging heavily between them.
One frosty morning, Soyeon was dusting the portraits in the west wing, feeling the eyes of long-dead Song ancestors tracking her movements. The stern, regal faces seemed to judge her every sweep of the cloth. She was balancing on a ladder, stretching to reach the top of a massive frame when her foot slipped. A startled gasp escaped her lips as she tumbled—
Before she hit the ground, a sharp spell wrapped around her, cushioning her fall. She landed softly on the carpet, dazed.
“Careful, Hufflepuff,” drawled a familiar voice.
Soyeon looked up to see Yuqi twirling her wand lazily, eyes dancing with amusement. But her expression lacked its usual malice. If anything, she seemed... concerned.
Soyeon scrambled to her feet. “Th-thank you, Miss Song.”
Yuqi arched a brow. “Miss Song? Merlin, you’re stiff. It’s Yuqi.”
Soyeon blinked. “...Yuqi?”
“Don’t make it weird,” Yuqi scoffed, but her lips curved upward ever so slightly before she turned and strode away, leaving Soyeon stunned.
It became a pattern. When they were alone, Yuqi’s jabs were softer, almost teasing. She’d make remarks about Soyeon’s height or the smudges on her face, but the words lacked the cruel edge they once carried. Soyeon was starting to see through the mask—the way Yuqi’s eyes softened when she thought no one was looking.
One evening, after hours of cleaning the massive dining hall, Soyeon sagged against the wall, exhaustion pulling her eyelids down. She didn’t hear Yuqi approach until a plate clattered on the table beside her.
“Eat,” Yuqi ordered brusquely.
Soyeon’s head shot up. “I—I can’t—”
“I didn’t ask.” Yuqi rolled her eyes, but she looked away, arms crossed. “You’ll be useless to me if you pass out.”
Soyeon glanced down at the plate—steaming roast beef, potatoes, and buttered vegetables. More food than she’d eaten in days. Hunger gnawed at her resolve. Slowly, she sat down and took a hesitant bite. It was delicious.
Yuqi watched her with an unreadable expression. When Soyeon finished, Yuqi sniffed. “Honestly, Hufflepuff, do you eat at all?”
“I... usually don’t have time,” Soyeon admitted, wiping her mouth.
Yuqi’s lips twitched. “Figures.” She leaned against the wall, gaze flicking over Soyeon. “You’re stubborn, you know. Always were.”
Soyeon frowned. “And you were always mean.”
Yuqi’s eyes widened slightly before a smirk tugged at her mouth. “Was?”
Soyeon’s cheeks flushed. “Are,” she corrected quickly.
Yuqi chuckled, a genuine sound that caught Soyeon off guard. “Better.”
The changes came slowly. Yuqi’s insults faded into playful banter. Her orders were less biting, and once, when Soyeon tripped on a loose stone in the garden, Yuqi didn’t scold her—she merely sighed and cast a charm to heal her scraped knee.
One snowy evening, Soyeon was carrying a stack of linens when Yuqi brushed past her, a deliberate nudge to her shoulder. Soyeon shot her a glare, but Yuqi only smirked. “Try not to trip this time, Hufflepuff.”
Soyeon huffed. “I don’t trip that often.”
Yuqi’s grin was wicked. “You did every other week at Hogwarts. Tripped over your own cloak, fell off your broom during first-year flying lessons...”
Soyeon spluttered. “That was once!”
“I remember twice,” Yuqi countered.
Soyeon scowled, but warmth blossomed in her chest. It was almost... normal.
Soyeon was still reeling from this unexpected warmth when, a few days later, she was cleaning the parlor when Yuqi walked in. Soyeon stiffened, but Yuqi barely glanced at her, flipping through the Daily Prophet.
“They say the weather’s cursed in London,” Yuqi remarked. “Not that you’d know—you barely read anything other than textbooks.”
Soyeon bristled. “I read plenty.”
“Oh? Did you read your mum’s latest letter?”
Soyeon’s head snapped up. “You—”
Yuqi smirked. “It was on the desk. Not my fault your mum is so... chatty.”
Heat burned Soyeon’s face. “You had no right—”
“Relax,” Yuqi drawled. “Your mum’s fine. The surgery went well.”
The relief was so strong Soyeon nearly staggered. She swallowed, forcing herself to hold Yuqi’s gaze. “Thank you... for paying.”
Yuqi’s expression was unreadable. “It was nothing.”
“No,” Soyeon insisted. “It wasn’t.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them, fragile and uncertain. Then Yuqi’s lips curled. “You can thank me by not embarrassing yourself in front of my guests.”
Soyeon’s mouth twitched. “No promises.”
Yuqi chuckled, a real, genuine laugh. For the first time, the sound wasn’t mocking. Soyeon felt her own lips life.
The line between them was still sharp, but it was beginning to blur.