Chapter 96 Sparks Beneath Control
The abandoned courtyard behind the Charms wing was quiet at this hour, wrapped in the soft gold of late afternoon. Ivy crept lazily along the stone walls, and the air carried the faint scent of rain from earlier that day. It wasn’t a place many students came to—too tucked away, too easily forgotten.
Which was exactly why Mattheo had chosen it.
Liora stood across from him, wand in hand, her expression caught somewhere between determination and amusement. “You’re serious?” she asked. “You want to duel?”
“Not a duel,” Mattheo corrected, adjusting his sleeve with quiet precision. “A demonstration.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a duel.”
“It isn’t,” he said calmly. “Unless you make it one.”
Her lips curved. “You’re very confident.”
“I’m very aware of your tendency to lose control of spells.”
She laughed, the sound light and easy. “That only happened a few times.”
“Enough times,” he replied.
The space between them hummed—not with danger, but with anticipation. Liora shifted her stance slightly, lifting her wand with a playful glint in her eyes.
“Alright,” she said. “Demonstration or not… don’t go easy on me.”
Mattheo’s gaze sharpened.
“I never do.”
For a brief moment, silence settled between them—thick, expectant.
Then Liora moved first.
“Expelliarmus!”
The spell shot forward, bright and clean, but Mattheo deflected it effortlessly with a flick of his wand, the red light scattering into harmless sparks.
“Too direct,” he said.
She didn’t stop. “Impedimenta!”
This time, he sidestepped, the spell grazing his sleeve before dissolving against the wall behind him.
“Better,” he murmured.
Liora grinned. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
She advanced, closing the distance between them, her movements quicker now, more confident. Another spell—then another—each one more controlled than the last. Mattheo blocked, deflected, or redirected them with minimal effort, his movements fluid, almost effortless.
But he was watching her.
Not just her spells.
Her.
The way her brow furrowed when she concentrated. The way her stance shifted instinctively, adapting faster than she realized. The spark in her eyes when something worked.
“You’re improving,” he said.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she shot back, sending another charm his way.
“I’m not,” he replied, stepping closer now, closing the gap between them with deliberate intent. “I’m… adjusting.”
“To what?”
“To you.”
The words lingered longer than they should have.
Liora hesitated—just for a second—and that was all it took.
Mattheo moved.
With a swift motion, he redirected her next spell mid-cast, the magic twisting harmlessly into the air before dissipating. In the same motion, he stepped into her space, his wand lightly catching hers and guiding it downward.
The movement wasn’t forceful.
It was controlled.
Close.
Too close.
Liora’s breath caught.
They stood barely inches apart now, her wand trapped gently between his hand and hers, the contact sending a quiet pulse through her chest. She could feel the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the sharp focus in his gaze.
“You hesitated,” he said softly.
“You distracted me,” she replied, though her voice lacked its usual steadiness.
“Then don’t let me.”
Easier said than done.
She swallowed, forcing herself to focus. With a quick twist of her wrist, she broke free from his hold and stepped back, creating just enough distance to breathe again.
“Protego!”
A shield flared to life just as he sent a light charm her way, testing her reflexes. It struck the barrier and fizzled out, leaving faint golden ripples in its wake.
Mattheo nodded, approval flickering across his features. “Good.”
“I told you,” she said, trying to ignore the lingering warmth in her hands. “I’m learning.”
He advanced again, slower this time, his movements deliberate. “Show me.”
The sparring resumed, but something had shifted.
It was no longer just practice.
Each movement felt charged, each step drawing them closer, pulling them into a rhythm that felt less like a duel and more like a dance. Spells were cast and countered in quick succession, their magic colliding in soft bursts of light that faded almost as quickly as they appeared.
Liora laughed when one of her charms rebounded unexpectedly, sending a swirl of harmless sparks between them.
“That was not intentional,” she admitted.
“I know,” Mattheo said, though the corner of his mouth lifted.
She tried again, stepping forward—and misjudged the distance.
Her foot caught slightly on the uneven stone, and she stumbled.
Mattheo reacted instantly.
His hand caught her wrist, steadying her before she could fall. The momentum pulled her closer, their bodies nearly colliding as he anchored her in place.
For a moment, everything stilled.
Her hand was still in his.
Her other hand rested lightly against his chest, where she had instinctively braced herself.
She could feel his heartbeat.
Strong. Steady.
Too close.
Neither of them moved.
“You’re going to have to work on that,” he said quietly, though his voice had softened.
“Falling?” she asked, her lips curving despite the heat rising in her cheeks.
“Balance.”
She tilted her head, meeting his gaze. “You caught me.”
“I always will.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Silence followed.
Not awkward.
Not tense.
Just… full.
Liora’s breath slowed, her fingers curling slightly against his sleeve as she became aware of just how little space existed between them.
“You keep saying things like that,” she murmured.
“And you keep noticing.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “It’s hard not to.”
For a second—just a second—Mattheo looked like he might close the distance entirely.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he released her wrist slowly, his hand lingering just a fraction longer than necessary before pulling away.
“We should continue,” he said, though his voice wasn’t as steady as before.
“Right,” she agreed, though neither of them moved immediately.
When they did resume, the energy had changed again—quieter now, more aware.
Their spells were softer, less about testing and more about guiding, each movement measured, careful not to disrupt the fragile balance that had formed between them.
Eventually, the light began to fade, the golden glow of the courtyard giving way to the cool tones of evening.
Liora lowered her wand first, exhaling softly. “I think that’s enough for today.”
Mattheo nodded. “You did well.”
She smiled. “High praise.”
“I don’t give it lightly.”
“I’ve noticed.”
They stood there for a moment, the quiet stretching comfortably between them.
Then Liora laughed softly. “You know… for something that wasn’t a duel…”
“It wasn’t,” he interrupted.
“It definitely felt like one.”
Mattheo’s lips curved faintly. “Then you’re improving faster than I thought.”
She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered.
As they walked back toward the castle together, side by side, the memory of the sparring stayed with them—the closeness, the laughter, the quiet tension that had built and refused to fade.
And though neither of them said it aloud, both knew something had shifted again.
Not dramatically.
Not dangerously.
Just enough to make every step forward feel a little more uncertain—
and a little more inevitable.