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T he next morning dawned with an annoyingly cheerful brightness, sunlight streaming through Juno's windows as if it were personally offended by her desire to sleep in. She groaned, burying her face in her pillow. Maybe if she ignored it hard enough, yesterday would turn out to be a bizarre dream induced by accidentally inhaling too much dreaming daffodil pollen.

No such luck. The events of the staff meeting played on repeat in her mind: Thaddeus's deep voice, the accidental mixing of their plants, and that moment of electric connection that had made her toes curl inside her sensible teaching shoes. Juno's cheeks burned hotter than a flame flower in full bloom.

"Oh, get a grip," she muttered to herself, finally dragging her body out of bed. Her wild curls resembled a tangling vine nest, and her breath could probably wilt even the sturdiest of magical plants. Some brilliant, composed professor she was.

She glanced at her workbench, where a collection of half-completed potions sat from her previous mishaps. One bottle contained a bubbling purple mixture she'd created last winter after accidentally turning her fingernails into tiny singing mushrooms. Another held the remains of the solution that had reversed her three-day bout of involuntary levitation the previous spring. Magical accidents were common enough in her line of work, and while the remedies were sometimes complex, solutions almost always existed. It was just a matter of finding the right combination of ingredients.

As was her habit, Juno made her way to her personal herb garden to tend to her plants before the day began in earnest. The familiar routine usually centered her, but today, each plant seemed determined to remind her of Thaddeus.

The pussy willows sighed his name. The memory mint gleamed like his eyes. Even the stubborn stinkweed mimicked his rigid posture. Juno glared at it. "Et tu, stinkweed?"

She moved among the pots and planters, whispering encouragement and channeling what little positive energy she could muster into each leaf and stem. "He left you," she reminded herself, nearly overwatering a sensitive weeping wisteria in her distraction. The plant gave a dramatic sob.

"Oh hush, you're fine," Juno muttered, gently patting its petals. "At least you don't have to face your annoyingly handsome ex-boyfriend in a professional setting today."

The wisteria perked up at that, clearly pleased it wasn't in Juno's shoes. Plants could be such smug little chlorophyll factories sometimes.

For a moment, Juno's mind drifted back to that final, horrible argument five years ago. The way Thaddeus had stood in her doorway, travel pack already slung over his shoulder.

"You're being selfish," he'd said, his voice cutting through her like ice. "There's a whole world of magical plants out there, discoveries waiting to be made. And you want to stay in this tiny town, teaching the same curriculum year after year?"

"This isn't about the curriculum," she had fired back, tears threatening to spill. "This is about building something stable, something lasting. Just because you're afraid of putting down roots doesn't mean the rest of us are."

His face had hardened then. "I'm not afraid. I'm ambitious. And if you really loved me, you'd be supporting that, not trying to clip my wings."

"And if you really loved me," she had whispered, "you wouldn't ask me to abandon everything I've worked for."

He had turned to leave, pausing at the threshold. "Maybe love isn't enough, then."

The door had closed behind him with such finality, and Juno had collapsed onto the floor, sobbing among her sympathetic plants. By the time she'd gathered herself enough to go after him, he was already gone.

Juno shook her head, banishing the painful memory. Water under the bridge now. Or it should be, if her traitorous heart would get the message.

Juno tried to focus on the tasks ahead. She had classes to teach, research to conduct, and a Brewfest competition to prepare for. She couldn't afford to be distracted by old feelings and what-ifs.

Brewfest wasn't just about the department head position, after all. It was one of the most prestigious magical competitions in the region, attracting visitors from all corners of the magical community. The winner brought honor and recognition not just to themselves but to their entire institution. Academy enrollment typically jumped by fifteen percent after a Brewfest victory, and research grants flowed more freely. Last year's winner, Professor Nightbloom from Everwood Academy, had secured funding for an entire new wing in their botanical gardens. The stakes were high—professionally, financially, and personally.

But as she gathered the herbs she would need for her first class, Juno wondered what Thaddeus was doing at that very moment. Was he also up with the sun, putting his plants through their paces like some sort of botanical drill sergeant? Did he ever think about the times they'd spent together in the greenhouse, learning and growing side by side?

She imagined him in his own garden, his strong hands gently pruning a defensive dandelion, his deep voice murmuring words of stern encouragement. The mental image was so vivid she almost dropped her basket of herbs.

"Get out of my head," she grumbled, gathering up sprigs of rosemary and thyme. It was going to be a long few weeks if she couldn't evict Thaddeus from her thoughts. Maybe she could brew a potion for that. "Essence of Ex-Be-Gone" had a nice ring to it. She could partner with Minerva on that one—the potions professor probably had a few exes she'd like to forget too.

As Juno made her way to her classroom, her steps faltered. There, striding down the hallway with his characteristic purposeful gait, was the man himself. For a moment, she considered diving behind a convenient concealing cactus. But no, she was a grown woman and a respected professor. She could handle a simple encounter in the hallway without embarrassing herself.

Probably.

"Good morning, Professor Shadowspire," she said, proud of how steady her voice sounded. Her heartbeat, on the other hand, was performing a drum solo worthy of a rhythmic radish.

Thaddeus paused, his dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her knees go weak. Curse those eyes. And that jaw. And those shoulders that filled out his teaching robes in ways that should be illegal before noon.

"Professor Runeheart," he nodded. His deep voice made her toes curl inside her sensible boots. "I trust you've recovered from yesterday's incident?"

Juno forced herself to maintain eye contact. "Perfectly fine, thank you. Though I do hope you've learned to be more careful with your plants. We wouldn't want any more accidents, would we?" Like accidentally falling into your arms, or accidentally kissing that infuriating smirk off your face.

A flicker of amusement passed over Thaddeus's face. "I assure you, my plants are under perfect control. Perhaps it's your overly nurturing methods that need some refinement."

And just like that, the spell was broken. The familiar fire of competition ignited in her chest, thankfully drowning out the other, more confusing feelings. "My methods have served me perfectly well, thank you very much. I look forward to demonstrating their superiority at Brewfest."

Thaddeus's eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly attractive way of his. How dare an eyebrow be attractive? It wasn't fair. "As do I. May the best herbologist win."

As he strode away, part of her was relieved that they could still interact on a professional level, trading barbs and challenges as they had for years. But another part, a part she tried desperately to ignore, mourned the loss of the connection they'd felt yesterday.

"Well, that went terribly," she muttered to herself. A tall sunflower nodded in agreement from a nearby planter. "Oh, be quiet. What do you know about love?" The sunflower ruffled its petals in affront, but Juno was beyond caring about the feelings of judgmental flora.

She continued on her way, only to pause when she caught snippets of conversation from a cluster of students huddled near an alcove. They fell silent as she approached, but not before she heard "Professor Shadowspire" and "turned down the Brazilian Institute" and something that sounded suspiciously like "came back for her."

Juno quickened her pace, pretending she hadn't heard. But her mind latched onto the gossip, tumbling it over like a particularly intriguing puzzle. The rumors had been circulating since Thaddeus's return. Some said he'd failed in his research in South America, forced to slink back to Grimm Mawr with his tail between his legs. Others whispered that he'd made some dark discovery, something that had shaken him so deeply he needed the comfort of familiar surroundings. And then there were the romantics, who insisted he'd come back for one thing only—or rather, one person.

Ridiculous, all of it. Especially that last one.

Shaking off these confusing thoughts, Juno squared her shoulders and continued to her classroom. She had young minds to mold and magical plants to nurture. She couldn't afford to let her personal feelings interfere with her duties. No matter how much those feelings made her want to bang her head against the nearest wall or hex a certain dark-haired professor with a bad case of musical hiccups.

As she entered the classroom, the buzz of excited student chatter filled the air. The room was alive with magical energy, plants of all varieties lining the walls and crowding the windowsills. Juno breathed deeply, letting the familiar scents and sounds wash over her. This was her element. Here, she wasn't Juno Runeheart, woman with complicated feelings for her rival. She was Professor Runeheart, expert in nurturing herbology and shaper of young magical minds.

"Good morning, class," she said, setting her basket of herbs on the front desk. "Today, we'll be exploring the subtle art of enhancing emotional properties in healing herbs. Can anyone tell me why this might be particularly useful?"

A hand shot up immediately. "Because emotions can affect the potency of healing spells?" ventured a bright-eyed young witch in the front row.

Juno beamed, momentarily forgetting her personal turmoil. "Excellent, Miss Thornberry! The emotional state of both the healer and the patient can significantly impact the effectiveness of magical remedies. By enhancing the emotional properties of our herbs, we can create more robust and adaptable healing potions."

As she launched into her lecture, the last of her unease melted away. This was where she belonged, sharing her knowledge and passion with the next generation of magical herbologists. She moved among the students, guiding their hands as they carefully tended to delicate sprouts of echinacea and chamomile.

"Remember," she said, adjusting a young warlock's grip on his watering can, "these plants respond to your energy. Approach them with love and respect, and they'll reward you with potent magical properties." Unlike certain stubborn, attractive professors who shall remain nameless, she added silently.

What would Thaddeus think of this lesson? Would he scoff at the idea of plants responding to emotional energy? Or would he remember the experiments they used to conduct together, blending their contrasting approaches to create something new and exciting?

They had been so in sync then, their differences complementing rather than conflicting with each other. Thaddeus's structured approach had given form to Juno's more intuitive methods, while her emphasis on nurture had softened the edges of his defensive techniques. They had been unstoppable together, two halves of a whole.

For a moment, Juno allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to work with Thaddeus again. The potential was thrilling. They could revolutionize the field, push the boundaries of what was possible with magical plants. They could be great together, in more ways than one.

But then reality intruded like an overzealous strangling ivy. They weren't starry-eyed students anymore. They were rivals, competing for the same position. And there was still the unresolved hurt of their past—the words said in anger that had driven them apart. Words that still echoed in Juno's mind on her darkest days.

As the class came to an end and the students filed out, Juno began to clean up. She moved among the plants, whispering words of encouragement and thanks for their participation in the day's lesson.

"Well done, my lovelies," she praised a particularly vibrant patch of empathy echinacea. "You've outdone yourselves today. Unlike me, who can't seem to get through a single conversation with Thaddeus without turning into a bumbling idiot." A nearby shy violet wilted in sympathy.

"Talking to the plants again, Runeheart? And here I thought that was just a quirk of your student days."

Juno whirled around so fast she nearly knocked over a pot of giggling geraniums. They tittered at her clumsiness, the little traitors. Thaddeus stood in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space. How long had he been there? Had he heard her embarrassing confession to the echinacea?

"Shadowspire," she said, fighting to keep her voice level and her dignity intact. "Come to spy on the competition? Or just couldn't stay away from my magnetic charm?"

Oh gods, did she really just say that? A nearby shrinking violet began to wilt in secondhand embarrassment, and Juno had never related to a plant more in her life.

Thaddeus's lips twitched. "Merely passing by. I noticed your... enthusiastic teaching methods."

Juno bristled, partly from indignation and partly from the way his voice caressed the word "enthusiastic" like it was something delicious he wanted to savor. "My methods may not align with your militaristic approach, but they're effective. Just look at how these plants have thrived."

To her surprise, Thaddeus moved closer, examining the empathy echinacea with what looked like genuine interest. Juno held her breath, acutely aware of his proximity. The small hairs on her arms rose and shimmied with the pulse of magic that stirred from his aura against hers.

"They do look remarkably vital," he admitted, running a gentle finger along a vibrant petal. "Perhaps there's something to be said for a gentler touch after all."

The unexpected admission caught Juno off guard. For a moment, she saw a glimmer of the Thaddeus she used to know—curious, open-minded, always eager to learn. The Thaddeus she had fallen in love with all those years ago.

"I... thank you," she said, unsure how to respond to this sudden shift. "Your stinging nettles yesterday were impressive as well. I've never seen such a potent defensive reaction."

"High praise, coming from you."

They stood there for a moment, the air between them charged with unspoken words and memories. If she leaned forward just a bit, she could...

"Thaddeus, I—" she began, not sure what she was going to say but feeling the need to say something. Anything to break this tension before she did something monumentally stupid like kiss him in front of her entire classroom of plants. The gossip would spread faster than creeping kudzu.

But before she could continue, a clock chimed somewhere in the academy, breaking the spell. Thaddeus straightened, his expression closing off once more. Juno mourned the loss of that brief moment of connection.

"I should go. I have a class to prepare for," he said, his voice back to its usual cool professionalism. "Good day, Professor Runeheart."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Juno standing among her beloved plants, her heart racing and her mind in turmoil. A mood-sensing marigold next to her turned a vivid shade of confused purple.

"You and me both," Juno muttered to the plant.

As she made her way back to her quarters that evening, her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. She entered her rooms, immediately enveloped by the soothing scents of her personal herb garden. But tonight, not even the familiar aromas could calm her racing mind. The plants watched her expectantly, as if waiting for her to spill all her secrets like some botanical gossip circle.

"Don't look at me like that," she told a particularly judgmental-looking wise wisteria. "I'm handling this situation perfectly well, thank you very much."

The wisteria's leaves rustled in what sounded suspiciously like a snort.

Ignoring her opinionated flora, Juno moved to her workbench, where her Brewfest project sat in various stages of development. She had been working on a revolutionary new blend of nurturing and protective herbs that could be distilled into a standout potion for the event. If she won, the department head position would be within reach, not to mention the prestige that would elevate Grimm Mawr's status among magical academies for years to come. The Magical Herbology Journal always featured the winning concoction on its cover, and last year, three separate book deals had been offered to the victor. With Brewfest attracting delegates from every major magical institution in the country, it was the perfect platform to showcase her revolutionary techniques.

And if she lost? Well, she didn't want to think about that. Not just because of the career implications, but because of what it might mean for her already complicated relationship with Thaddeus.

As she began to work, carefully measuring out ingredients and channeling her magical energy into the delicate seedlings, Juno's thoughts drifted once again to Thaddeus. Was it possible that after all these years, they could find common ground again? Or was she setting herself up for another heartbreak?

Juno sighed, gently stroking the leaves of a fledgling courage coneflower. "What do you think, little one?" she asked. "Am I foolish to hope?"

The plant didn't answer, but Juno felt a surge of warmth from its leaves. She smiled, taking comfort in the simple, unconditional response of her botanical companions. At least plants didn't come with the complicated emotional baggage of exes turned professional rivals.

A nearby laughing lily let out a chime of amusement. Juno shot it a reproachful look. "Oh, sure, laugh it up. You try navigating a complicated romantic history while competing for your dream job."

The lily just giggled harder, its petals shaking with mirth. Juno sighed. At least someone was finding her situation amusing.

A knock at her door startled her from her botanical heart-to-heart. She opened it to find Minerva standing there, a determined expression on her face.

"I've been thinking about your situation with Shadowspire," the potions professor said without preamble. "And I have an idea."

Juno looked at her friend warily. "The last time you had an 'idea,' I ended up with blue hair for a week."

"That was an accident," Minerva said dismissively. "And besides, it looked good on you. But this is different. I think I know how you can win both the competition and the man."

Juno raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

Minerva grinned, a mischievous spark in her eye that reminded Juno why they were friends. "It's simple, really. You're going to beat him at his own game."

"And that means...?"

"You're going to create a potion that combines both your approaches—nurturing and defensive. Show him that you understand and respect his methods, while also demonstrating the superiority of your own."

Juno considered this. It wasn't a bad idea, actually. "But won't that just prove his point that defensive herbology has merit?"

"Of course it has merit," Minerva said, rolling her eyes. "Just as his approach has merit. The point is to show that you're mature enough to acknowledge that, while also proving that your combined approach is superior to his solo technique."

"That... actually makes sense," Juno admitted, her mind already racing with possibilities.

"Of course it does. I'm a genius," Minerva said with a smirk. "And trust me, nothing is more attractive to a stubborn man than a woman who can beat him at his own game while still respecting his expertise."

"Speaking from experience?" Juno asked, thinking of Minerva's relationship with Coach Hawthorne.

Minerva's cheeks turned slightly pink. "Let's just say that Archie is most affectionate when I've just proven him wrong in the most spectacular way possible."

Juno laughed, feeling lighter than she had all day. "You're a terrible influence, you know that?"

"The best kind of friend," Minerva corrected with a wink. "Now, tell me about this project of yours. I want all the details."

As they settled in for a night of strategizing and potion planning, Juno felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she could have it all—the position, the respect of her peers, and another chance with the man who still made her heart race after all these years.

The laughing lily chimed its approval from the windowsill. For once, Juno was inclined to agree with her opinionated plant.