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J uno glared at the empty vial on her workbench, its absence a stark reminder of her defeat. The moonlight orchid's nectar should have been hers. Instead, here she was, surrounded by a chaos of magical ingredients, determined to prove she didn't need it to win the Brewfest competition.

She had to beat Thaddeus. Only then could she look him in the eye again. She racked her brain, trying to figure out if there had been an aphrodisiac growing in the garden that night. That had to be the only explanation of why she and Thaddeus had gone at it like a succubus and an incubus.

Her personal laboratory at Grimm Mawr Academy, usually a haven of organized chaos, now looked like a whirlwind of magical debris had torn through it. Jars of shimmering powders teetered precariously on shelves, vials of multicolored liquids bubbled ominously, and the air was thick with the mingled scents of a dozen different magical plants.

Juno glared at her formula. "I don't need that blasted orchid," she muttered, reaching for a jar of iridescent pollen. "I'll show Thaddeus that nurturing herbology is just as powerful as his rigid, by-the-book methods."

The thought of Thaddeus sent a jolt through her that was equal parts irritation and something else she didn't want to examine too closely. So they slept together. So what? So he blew her mind. So what? It didn't change anything. He was still a jerk. She pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

With practiced movements, Juno began mixing ingredients in her cauldron. A pinch of starlight shimmer, three drops of dawn dew, a handful of crushed rainbow rose petals. She stirred the concoction carefully, watching as it began to glow with a soft, pulsing light.

"Just a dash of songbird syrup," she said, reaching for a small vial. As she uncorked it, the sweet scent filled the air, reminding her of warm summer evenings and...

No. Not going there. Focus, Juno.

She added three drops of the syrup to her potion and gave it a final stir. The mixture swirled, its glow intensifying. Juno held her breath, waiting for the moment of truth.

The potion let out a musical chime, and for a split second, Juno's heart soared with triumph. Then, everything went sideways.

The plants around her laboratory suddenly burst into song. Not just any song, but a full-blown operatic aria. The venomous vine trap on her desk launched into a passionate tenor solo, while the cluster of whispering willows by the window formed an impromptu chorus line.

Juno stared in disbelief as her entire collection of magical flora performed what appeared to be a rousing rendition of "The Enchanted Garden," complete with dramatic crescendos and vibrato.

"Oh, for the love of..." Juno groaned, clapping her hands over her ears as a particularly enthusiastic mandrake hit a glass-shattering high note. "This is not what I had in mind."

She scrambled to find a way to stop the botanical opera, but every attempt only encouraged her plants further. The singing swelled to a deafening climax, and Juno resigned herself to the fact that she'd be hearing magical Muzak in her dreams for weeks to come.

As the final notes faded, Juno slumped into her chair, surrounded by the now silent but smugly swaying plants. "Well," she said to no one in particular, "that was a rousing failure. But at least it can't get any worse, right?"

The universe, it turned out, took that as a challenge.

Determined not to be defeated by one minor setback (or an entire operatic disaster), Juno set to work on her next experiment. This time, she reached for a vial of moonbeam extract, hoping it might serve as a substitute for the coveted moonlight orchid nectar.

"A touch of twilight thistle," she muttered, carefully measuring out the shimmering purple powder. "A sprinkle of starfall seeds, and... perfect. This has to work."

She stirred the new concoction, watching as it shifted through a rainbow of colors before settling on a deep, mesmerizing green. The same green as Thaddeus's eyes when he...

Juno shook her head violently, banishing the thought. "Focus on the potion, not on his stupid, beautiful eyes," she scolded herself.

Taking a deep breath, she lifted the vial to her lips. It was risky to test it on herself, but she was too impatient to wait for proper safety protocols. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

The potion slid down her throat, cool and tingling. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a sensation spread through her body, starting from her core and radiating outward.

"Ha!" Juno exclaimed triumphantly. "I knew it would work!"

Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of her reflection in a nearby mirror. Her triumphant grin faded into an expression of horror as she watched her skin turn a vibrant, unmistakable shade of green.

"No, no, no!" Juno yelped, rubbing at her arms as if she could wipe away the color. But the green remained, spreading until she looked like she'd taken a bath in emerald dye. "This is not happening."

She frantically began mixing antidotes, trying every reversal spell she could think of. First, she tried a simple color-reversal tincture, which only managed to shift her from emerald to a slightly more alarming shade of lime. Next came a concoction of bleaching beetle wings and clarifying clover, which made her skin tingle pleasantly but otherwise had no effect.

"Come on, come on," she muttered, flipping through her most advanced remedies book. "There has to be something in here."

She tried a topical paste made from neutralizing nightshade and balance beans, spreading it over her hand. For a moment, the green seemed to recede, only to return with renewed vibrancy the moment the paste dried.

For her fourth attempt, Juno brewed a complex elixir involving seven different herbs, all harvested under specific lunar phases. The resulting liquid smelled like a wet dog and tasted even worse, but she gulped it down hopefully. The only result was a loud hiccup that produced a small puff of green smoke.

"At this rate, I'm going to need a full transformation reversal ritual," she groaned, slumping onto her stool. "And those take at least three days to prepare."

Frustrated and more than a little panicked, Juno began to pace her laboratory. The opera-singing plants, apparently sensing her distress, began to hum a sympathetic melody.

"Oh, shut up," she snapped at a particularly pitchy petunia. "This is all your fault. Well, yours and Thaddeus's. If he hadn't taken that moonlight orchid..."

And just like that, all her frustration about Thaddeus came bubbling to the surface.

"That smug, handsome jerk," she ranted, gesticulating wildly as she stomped around the room. "Thinks he's so clever with his 'defensive herbology' and his perfect hair and his thick..."

The plants' humming swelled into a dramatic backing track for her tirade.

"You know what?" Juno continued, warming to her theme. "I bet he's not even using that orchid. He probably just took it to spite me. Because that's what he does. He swoops in with his dark, mysterious act and his ridiculously soft-looking lips and he just... he just..."

She trailed off, suddenly aware of how breathless she'd become. The plants seized the opportunity to launch into a romantic ballad, complete with swaying and what looked suspiciously like floral jazz hands.

"That's not helping," Juno grumbled, but her anger had deflated, leaving her feeling drained and, if she was honest, a little ridiculous. Here she was, green as a frog, surrounded by musically inclined flora, and still thinking about the boy that broke her heart.

She needed air. And possibly a very strong cup of tea.

Juno headed for the door, determined to sneak back to her quarters and hide until she figured out how to de-green herself. She poked her head out into the hallway, checking to make sure the coast was clear.

And then, because the universe clearly had it out for her today, she heard familiar footsteps approaching.

Thaddeus. Of course it was Thaddeus. Because this day just wouldn't be complete without him seeing her in all her green glory.

Juno tried to retreat back into her lab, but it was too late. Thaddeus rounded the corner, his dark robes swirling dramatically and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of her.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other. Juno, green-skinned and wild-haired, half-hidden behind her laboratory door. Thaddeus, impeccably groomed as always, his eyes widening in a mix of surprise and... was that concern?

"Juno?" Thaddeus said, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver through her. "Are you... is everything all right?"

Juno wanted to sink into the floor. Or turn invisible. Or possibly both. Instead, she forced herself to step fully into the hallway, lifting her chin defiantly.

"Everything's fine," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. As if being green was a perfectly normal occurrence. "Just a small magical mishap. Nothing to worry about."

Thaddeus's eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his artfully tousled hair. "A small mishap?" he repeated, his tone caught between amusement and disbelief. "Juno, you're green."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Juno snapped, her embarrassment making her voice sharper than she'd intended.

To her surprise, Thaddeus's expression softened. He took a step toward her, his hand half-raised as if he wanted to reach out to her. There was something in his eyes—a flash of guilt quickly masked by concern.

"I've seen this before," he said, reaching into his pocket. "During my second year in South America, one of my colleagues had a similar reaction to a botched distillation of blue moonvine. Try this."

He pulled out a small glass bottle filled with a pearlescent silver liquid. "Essence of reversal lily mixed with quicksilver sap," he explained. "Three drops twice a day, and the color should fade within forty-eight hours."

Juno eyed the vial suspiciously. "And why do you just happen to have this on you?"

Thaddeus shifted his weight, not quite meeting her eyes. "I may have... anticipated that you might try to create a substitute for the moonlight orchid nectar."

"I don't need your help," Juno said stiffly, even as her fingers itched to grab the remedy. "I'm perfectly capable of fixing this myself."

Thaddeus sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Look, Juno, I..." he hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "Just take it, please. Consider it... a peace offering. For the orchid."

There it was—not quite an apology, but the closest thing to remorse she'd seen from him since his return. Thaddeus held out the vial, a tentative olive branch between them.

After a moment's hesitation, Juno reached out and took it. "Fine," she said, trying to sound ungracious even as relief washed through her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Thaddeus said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile. "Though I have to say, the green does bring out your eyes."

"Don't push your luck, Shadowspire," Juno warned, but there was no real bite to her words.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he replied, taking a step back. "I should let you... de-green in peace. And Juno?"

"Yes?"

"The remedy works best when taken with honey tea," he said over his shoulder as he walked away, not turning back to see her reaction.

Juno shut the door to her laboratory, leaning against it as she examined the vial in her hand. She uncorked it cautiously and sniffed. The scent of lilies and something metallic filled her nostrils—exactly what reversal lily essence should smell like. Thaddeus hadn't tried to trick her, at least.

Sighing, she rummaged through her desk drawer until she found her emergency stash of honey, then conjured a quick cup of tea. Following his instructions, she added three drops of the pearlescent liquid and drank it down.

Almost immediately, a tingling sensation spread across her skin. Looking in the mirror, she saw with relief that the vibrant green had already faded to a softer, more pastel shade.

"Well, I'll be damned," she murmured, touching her cheek in wonder. "It's actually working."

A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that perhaps Thaddeus wasn't entirely the villain she'd made him out to be. Maybe there was still something of the boy she'd loved in the man he'd become. She quickly squashed that thought. One helpful gesture didn't erase years of heartache.

But as she settled back into her work, mixing potions with renewed vigor, Juno couldn't help glancing at her reflection every few minutes. The green was definitely fading, becoming more of a faint tinge than a full transformation. By Brewfest, she'd be back to normal.

And if her thoughts kept drifting to Thaddeus and the look in his eyes when he'd handed her the vial—a mixture of guilt, concern, and something deeper she wasn't ready to name—well, she'd blame that on magical side effects too.

"Just three more days of looking like a garden nymph," she told her reflection as she packed up for the night. "And then it's back to proving that I don't need Thaddeus Shadowspire or his precious orchid nectar to win this competition."

The green tint had faded enough around her fingertips that they were almost back to normal. Progress. She'd take it. And she'd use every ounce of her restored dignity to prove to Thaddeus—and herself—that she didn't need him. No matter what her heart tried to tell her.