Chapter Text
It seems centuries have passed since she last saw Ben—or rather, his cold, dead body disappearing into cinder and ashes on the ground of the deserted Sith Temple, in the aftermath of the last war they fought together. As if he had never existed in the first place.
Which is why it makes no sense she is cackling now that they have finally come face to face again.
After all the angers, prayers and tears, Rey is practically wrecked with giggles at her reunion with Ben Solo. She should really have thought twice.
Shame that Rey has never been the type to think before she acts.
“Ben,” she chokes on her tears—from laughing, obviously—and dashes at her stupefied dyad in the Force. “I’ve—haha—missed you so much—“
What has amused Rey such is how young Ben looks right before her eyes. Awkward ears poking out of Ben’s shortened hair, adding a touch of youthfulness to his features; his face, once overflown with torment and guilt, now rejuvenated—enlivened, even; a familiar twitch of the muscle under his left eye, as he peers at Rey with a dumbstruck expression.
This is not Ben as she last saw him. This is Ben Solo at the age of seventeen, the dark side of the galaxy unknown by his young mind; he is stupidly beautiful with arms and legs too long to fit in the armchair. Living, breathing, whole; unbroken.
She has liked, loved the face of older Ben, but seeing him of her age has taken this fondness to an entire new level—sent her mind short-circuiting and buzzing like a lightsaber.
Not that she’s only judging the book by its cover—but Force, the young version of Ben Solo is exactly the type of boy she would have willingly given up the last of her portion for when she was fourteen.
Growing up alone in a vile environment, Rey isn’t usually as open with her feelings. Only that her usual personality doesn’t apply to this moment, when her every rational thought is abandoned on cloud ninety-nine.
She jumps into Ben’s waiting arms and embraces him as fiercely as she might her last portion.
“Ow, Rey, calm down.” Rey has started her new round of laughter at Ben’s higher-pitched, more-boy-than-man voice. His breath nuzzles her earlobe as he speaks, stirring a funny kind of ripple inside of her. “I missed you too.”
Rey dumps the last spark of laughter dead into her stomach. “Sorry. I’m just...too happy to see you.” She hops off his lap, a little too soon for her like; but Rey has a principle against embarrassing herself twice in a crowded room.
“...okay.” Ben doesn’t look convinced; however, once again hasn’t he replied when she attempts to project an apology. Instead, Rey finds herself trapped in Ben’s intent stare, like how they used to exchange lingering, passionate gazes, communicating a secret language of their own.
A cough. Then, “I’ve had my fair share of eye-shagging today, thank you very much.”
Maybe that principle of hers is violated, after all. Rey draws in a sharp breath, dropping her gaze. At least this time the ceiling hasn’t been brought down on them. Ben, on the other hand, has had his face molded into a deep scowl.
“Says someone who has snogged his girlfriend for more than one and a half minute in public.“ smirks Hermione, who watches Malfoy’s face turn into the color of pumpkin juice with satisfaction. “If I were you, ferret, I wouldn’t want to interrupt a perfectly wholesome reunion of long-separated lovers.”
Rey could have kissed her.
From one corner of the room burst out several snorts. A green-eyed girl even doubles over in her laughing, as if making an exaggerated attempt at annoying the blond Head Boy.
“Pansy and I weren’t together anymore.” Malfoy casts a grim look around the room, silencing his classmates and the two out-of-place space wizards(one of which trying to outstare him with the burning of a thousand suns. It quickly folds into a one-sided match.) The air begins to smell like gunpowder. Soon, it has heated enough for the fair-haired boy to grudgingly retreat to the shadowy corridors.
A moment later, a loud bam echos across the common room.
“That was a cold welcome—as cold as where a Crumple-Horned Snorkack may live,” After a while, someone in the back speaks up. It is a girl dressed in same robes as Ben’s. Rey likes her almost instantly—maybe it is Luna’s pale, silvery eyes, or the dreamy, uncanny way she delivers her words; anyhow, Rey has made the mysterious girl a second on her potential allies list.
Said girl is light on her feet, and before any of the room’s residents could respond, has drifted over from across the room to Rey and Ben. “Hullo! My name is Luna, pleased to meet you.”
Someone in the room whistles, “Looney Lovegood!” and Rey doesn’t hesitate to send a glare back. Rey is aware how greatly her Potential Allies list may scale down after this, if as many enemies are made by her gesture as she suspects. These strangers may loathe her for siding with the weirdo, who knows—but honestly, she can’t care less. She makes a formidable pair with Ben already; recruiting a bunch of bullies as allies isn’t a must.
“Well, you see, I’m a Ravenclaw—just like Ben. I think we’ll make good friends.” Luna chirps on merrily, lifting a brow as though stressing her point. “Do you happen to know about The Quibbler? It’s a really important—“
“Thanks, Luna. I think Rey has read it before.” Ben says in a quick manner. Rey frowns at the dismissiveness in his tone. “Now, if you don’t mind, I‘d like to have a private word with Rey.”
Earning an affirmative nod from Luna, whose good mood doesn’t seem affected at all, he turns to the whole room and repeats his message, before pulling Rey against his side and into the same corridor Malfoy has previously disappeared into.
The room Ben pulls them into appears to be his living quarters—or dorm, as they call it here. Rey gawks at the tapestries of bright turquoise and bronze hang from his bedstead—it is even fancy enough to conceal a raven pattern, with a slightly darker accent. There are times Rey forgets Ben used to be, namely, the prince of Alderaan; now isn’t one of them. He is likely entitled to luxury even in the World between Worlds.
“Riddikulus!”
Rey pushes away the stick pointing at her throat, more forcefully than necessary.. “What are you talking about, Ben?”
Her hand warms from where she has grabbed the stick, something shooting through her hand like an electric shock. She drops her hand to her side, rubbing it fiercely against her newly-acquired clothing, fuming.
Ben watches her, eyes wide. “So...you are not a Boggart?”
Force have mercy, even Ben is spitting meaningless new words at her now? Rey huffs, almost wanting to slap him—no, she has thought of a better idea: she’ll slice his left cheek in the same manner she did the other, leaving him a pair of beautifully symmetric marks decorating his thick head...had she not been without her lightsaber. General Organa’s lightsaber, to be precise, which along with Ben’s grandfather’s she dug out of Tatooine’s sand as soon as she had come to her sense.
“I don’t understand,” She whispers, a fact too shameful to admit to for the sake of her kriffed stubbornness. “I have set foot on this world for an hour at most, and I couldn’t understand a thing.”
“But you didn’t use the mind trick?” Ben questions, tentatively, with a slight tilt of his head. “The witch you came in with is quite a hard nut to crack, if I remember correctly.”
Witch. So this school is about magic after all.
“Not without people’s consent!” Rey snaps, her face flushed, “Unlike some people, who has no respect—“
“So you are my Rey, after all.” Paying no attention to her frustration, Ben takes several strides before coming to a firm stop in front of her. He looks at her, as if she were a puzzle he is obliged to solve. “...Rey?”
“I’m not ‘yours’, Ben Solo. You know you don’t own me.” she grows impatient listening to his rumbling. “But yes, I am Rey—who else can I be, you kriffin’ idiot?”
It’s me, she wants to say, standing right before you. I came back for you, Ben, like how you have come back for me.
“You are really here.” He mumbles, his face scrunched in consternation. “You are real. But why...? You should have stayed. I made sure you stay.”
She snorts at the sentiment in his voice. Rey could have yelled and sobbed, calling him names—just how dare he make her think that he’s dead, that she’s all alone once more, when he’s here chilling out in a magical world?—she would have two years ago.
Now, however, suppressed emotions is the problem for another day.
“No more fussing, Ben Solo,“ she looks around, searching for anything that could render her more of a menace against this massive, stupid man, and reluctantly retrieves the stick at her waist; then she shifts it to press against his chest. “Pack your things.” Jab. “Now. We’ll find the Falcon—” Jab. “—and we are getting out of here. Together.”
“You lost the Falcon?”
“I didn’t lose her,” she insists, “I just don’t know where she is.”
“If you say so.” Ben sounds so annoyingly amused, barely dodging a punch she has directed at his shoulder. ”But first—“ he gestures to the stick held in her grasp, “you need a teacher.”
It takes all her will power not to smack that smirk off Ben’s face.
“We’ll first search here—“Ben points at a location the holo-map(a vintage version that Ben “borrowed” from some war hero)in front of them, illuminated by a small ball of light bouncing off the tip of Rey’s wand—her first successful attempt at casting Lumos. “The castle ground, since you woke up there. We are also going to check out the Quidditch Stadium—”
“Shhh!” Footsteps echo down the corridor—and bantering noises. “Someone’s coming.”
“I have Muffled us. Casted a Disillusionment spell as well,” assures Ben, who pulls Rey flush against him despite their layers of protection. “They can’t see or hear us.”
“How did you learn these fancy terms?” Rey asks out of curiosity. It has taken her a solid five minutes to learn a magic spell as basic as Lumos, which she decides to mark as a new low in her life.
“I have my ways.” says Ben, distracted. Perspire beads on his forehead, his whole body shivering as if under great pressure. “I don’t think I can keep us unseen for another minute. Careful.”
“You probed their mind.” Rey sniffs. “That’s a...dirty trick, you know. You can’t enter people’s minds—“
“I didn’t say so, did I?” He grins. The cheerful expression works so well on his teenage face—it makes blood run to her cheeks, every. single. time. “Some spells I researched about in the library, some I’ve learnt in class—and I may have also used the mind trick as a last resort from time to time.”
“Most eighth year students in this academy—Hogwarts as they call it—can resist mind invasion by using something called...”he scratches the back of his neck before rasping on, keeping a steady hold on the small of Rey’s back. “I forget. I only learnt the necessary. You could too, given a few months.”
“Too bad I’m not planning on staying that long.”
Two familiar silhouettes emerge several yards away, the pair appeared to be engaged in deep squabble.
“—partying? In the time of our N.E.W.T.s? Are you out of your mind, Malfoy?”
“Oh, c’mon, ‘Mione, live a little,” her companion mocks. “You will get the top grade what-so-ever. What’s there to worry about?”
“Stop calling me that,” Hermione’s tone is dripping with a hollow disgust, “and don’t think I have no idea how hard you are working for the Os. As for the party—it is still a ‘no’ from me.”
“You are really a killjoy. You know that, sweetheart?”
Oh.
Are they calling it arch-nemeses since Day One now?