Page 5

T haddeus stood in front of his mirror, testing his voice for the tenth time that morning.

"The moonlight orchid blooms only once a year," he said, pleased to hear the words emerge clearly. His voice had returned gradually overnight, first as a raspy whisper when he'd woken before dawn, then strengthening with each passing hour.

The temporary muteness—a side effect of Juno's anti-plant-aphrodisiac spell, no doubt—had finally worn off. He made a mental note to document this particular interaction between defensive and nurturing herbology. The academic implications were fascinating, even if the personal ones were... complicated.

He glanced at the clock. Still early. Plenty of time before classes began.

Across the academy, in his own laboratory, Thaddeus was having a crisis of conscience.

The moonlight orchid nectar sat on his desk, the violet liquid simmering in the test tube. It was beautiful, powerful, and exactly what he needed to create the perfect potion for Brewfest. And yet...

Thaddeus couldn't shake the memory of Juno's face when he'd won the coin toss. The flash of disappointment in her eyes. It had stirred something in him, a feeling he'd thought long buried. Guilt at disappointing Juno. Again.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, pacing the length of his lab. "I won it fair and square. There's no reason to feel guilty. I had wanted her to come with me after graduation too."

But the guilt persisted, nagging at him like an itch he couldn't scratch. With a frustrated growl, Thaddeus turned back to his workbench. If he couldn't shake it, he'd just have to prove that he deserved the orchid by creating something spectacular.

He should have let her have the orchid.

He should have never let her go.

He should have told her that he never stopped loving her the moment he had come back.

It was too late now.

Was it?

Too late for them?

His eyes drifted to the green remedy bottle on his desk—the one he'd given Juno yesterday. He'd spotted her at breakfast, sitting at the far end of the faculty table. The emerald tint of her skin had already faded considerably, now just a faint mint shade that would likely be gone completely by tomorrow. She'd caught him looking and raised an eyebrow, lifting her teacup in acknowledgment. He'd nodded back, a silent exchange that left him oddly hopeful.

He'd always been drawn to her unconventional approaches, even when he argued against them. Her nurturing methods were so different from his defensive techniques, yet they yielded undeniable results. The department head position was his dream, but watching Juno lose her chance at it...

"Stop this," he scolded himself. "You can't have it both ways."

But couldn't he? The thought struck him suddenly. What if there was a way for both of them to win?

He shook his head. No. There could only be one department head. That was tradition. And he needed that position to validate the years he'd spent researching, to prove that leaving—leaving her—had been worth it.

"Fuck it." Thaddeus ignored the little voice of his conscience and began gathering ingredients. A measure of moonglow powder, a sprig of nightshade, three drops of starlight essence. He worked with purpose, forcing his thoughts away from how perfect Juno had felt in his arms, like no time at all had passed.

"This will amplify the orchid's properties tenfold," he said aloud, trying to drown out the sounds of her cries of ecstasy that replied in his mind.

He carefully added a petal from the moonlight orchid to his cauldron. The mixture began to glow and pulse with an otherworldly light.

Thaddeus leaned in, watching intently as the potion swirled and shimmered. It was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic. He was so focused on the cauldron that he didn't notice the buildup of magical energy until it was too late.

The potion exploded in a burst of silvery light and glittering dust. Thaddeus was thrown backward, crashing into a shelf of ingredients. Jars and vials rained down around him, adding their contents to the chaos.

When the dust settled, Thaddeus was sitting in a pile of broken glass and spilled potions, covered from head to toe in shimmering, iridescent powder. He blinked, momentarily stunned.

"Well," he said dryly to his empty laboratory, "that was unexpected."

Not entirely empty, he realized. His defensive daffodil, a particularly resilient bloom that he'd cultivated from a rare seed found deep in the Amazon, had somehow survived the blast unscathed. Its petals rustled in what seemed suspiciously like laughter.

"I suppose you find this amusing," Thaddeus said, brushing glittering dust from his robes.

The daffodil bobbed its head, its movements almost human in their expressiveness.

"What do you think Juno would say if she could see me now?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

To his surprise, the daffodil swayed from side to side, then tilted its bloom toward the spot where he'd been working on the potion—almost as if to say, "She wouldn't have made that mistake."

"You're probably right," Thaddeus admitted. "Her approach has always been more... intuitive than mine."

He glanced around at his other plants—the armored thornbush, the tactical trapper vines, the strategic shield ferns. All plants he'd chosen for their defensive properties, bred to resist attacks and protect against magical threats.

"What do you all think of Professor Runeheart's methods?" he asked, feeling only slightly foolish for consulting his flora. "Be honest."

The plants rustled collectively, some leaning toward him, others away. The message was clear: divided opinions.

The shield fern extended a frond, gently touching a jar of Juno's nurturing compound that Thaddeus kept on hand—purely for research purposes, he'd told himself.

"You think her nurturing techniques have merit?" Thaddeus asked, raising an eyebrow.

The fern curled its frond in affirmation.

"But what about when plants need to defend themselves?" he countered, pointing to his prize stinging nettle. "Juno's coddling approach leaves them vulnerable."

The daffodil straightened up indignantly, its stem rigid. Then it slowly bent toward the nurturing compound, then back toward Thaddeus's defensive fertilizer, repeating the movement several times.

"Both?" Thaddeus asked, understanding dawning. "You think plants need both approaches?"

The entire collection of flora rustled in what seemed like enthusiastic agreement.

Thaddeus stood silent for a moment, considering. Maybe his plants had a point. The most resilient specimens in the wild had both defensive capabilities and nurturing environments. Neither approach was complete on its own.

But admitting that would mean conceding that Juno had been right all along—at least partially. And after five years of building his career on defensive herbology, could he really afford such a fundamental shift in philosophy?

He pushed himself to his feet, grimacing at the mess. Glittering dust fell from his robes in a sparkling cascade. He looked like he'd been attacked by a flock of overzealous sprites.

As he began to clean up, muttering cleaning spells under his breath, Thaddeus wondered if this was some kind of karmic retribution. He'd taken the orchid from Juno, and now his attempts to use it had quite literally blown up in his face.

He remembered how she'd looked in the hallway earlier, her skin a fading shade of green, her eyes bright with a mix of embarrassment and defiance. Even green, she'd been gorgeous.

Thaddeus shook his head violently, sending a cloud of glittering dust into the air. Now was not the time to be thinking about how attractive Juno looked, green or otherwise. He had a mess to clean up and a potion to perfect. He set out to work on a new experiment. This time, he'd create a potion to enhance plant growth. Something that would prove, once and for all, that his methods were superior. A dash of sunburst serum, a pinch of fertile soil essence, and a drop of liquid photosynthesis were all that was needed. The potion bubbled and frothed, turning a rich, earthy green.

"Perfect." Thaddeus lifted the vial to examine it more closely. The color reminded him of Juno's eyes when she was particularly fired up about something, usually arguing with him about proper plant care techniques.

He groaned, realizing he'd let his mind wander to Juno again.

Without allowing himself to hesitate, Thaddeus added the orchid petal and poured it over the barren soil he had in the lab. Thaddeus waited, wondering what incredible effect his potion would have. Would plants spring up at his feet? Would he suddenly understand the language of trees?

A rustling sound from the earth caught his attention, and in a shock of growth, a flutterbloom erupted from the soil.

"That's more like it." He went to write down the results in his grimoire. But a moment later, the flutterbloom uprooted itself and began to... hop towards him?

"What in the world?" Thaddeus muttered, watching in bewilderment as the flutterbloom made its way across his workbench.

Before he could react, more movement caught his eye. All around the laboratory, plants were coming to life. The venomous vine trap was slithering across the floor like a verdant snake. The whispering willows were swaying their branches in what looked disturbingly like a come-hither motion.

And they were all headed straight for him.

"This is not good," Thaddeus said, backing away from the advancing botanical horde. His back hit the wall, and he realized with a sinking feeling that he was surrounded.

The flutterbloom reached him first, wrapping its vines around his leg in what could only be described as an affectionate embrace. The whispering willows weren't far behind, their leaves caressing his face with decidedly amorous intent.

It hit Thaddeus like a bolt of lightning. He hadn't created a growth potion. He'd accidentally brewed some kind of magical plant aphrodisiac. And he was the unwilling object of every plant's affection.

"This is not happening," he groaned, trying to disentangle himself from a particularly amorous fern. But it was no use. For every plant he pushed away, two more took its place.

There was only one thing to do.

Run.

Thaddeus burst out of his laboratory, a trail of lovesick plants hot on his heels. He sprinted down the hallway, cursing under his breath as he narrowly avoided colliding with a suit of armor.

"Professor Shadowspire," a scandalized voice called out. Thaddeus glanced over his shoulder to see Professor Thornberry, the Arithmancy teacher, staring at him in shock. "What in the name of the ancient mages are you doing?"

"My apologies, Professor," Thaddeus called back, dodging a grasping vine. "Just a small botanical emergency."

He rounded a corner at full speed, nearly crashing into a group of students. Their eyes widened comically as they saw him being chased by a horde of plants.

"Professor?" one of them ventured. "Are you all right?"

"Perfectly fine," Thaddeus panted, leaping over a low-hanging tendril. "Just getting some exercise. Carry on with your studies."

He sprinted past them, leaving behind a wake of confused murmurs and stifled giggles. This was not how he'd envisioned his day going. He needed to find a way to reverse this potion, and fast.

As he ran, Thaddeus's mind raced. There had to be a solution that didn't result in him destroying the plants. His train of thought was abruptly derailed as he skidded around another corner and collided with something solid. Or rather, someone.

Thaddeus went down in a tangle of limbs and robes, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. He blinked, dazed, and stared into a pair of very familiar, barely-green eyes.

Juno. Of course it was Juno. Because this day couldn't get any more mortifying.

"Thaddeus?" Juno gasped, her voice a mix of surprise and concern. "What in the world..."

Her question trailed off as she took in his appearance—covered in glittering dust, robes askew, hair wild—and the army of amorous plants that was rapidly catching up to them.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, a tableau of mutual embarrassment. Thaddeus was acutely aware of how close they were, of the heat of Juno's body beneath his, of the faint herbal scent that always clung to her skin. Her green tint had faded significantly since yesterday, now just a subtle hint that might be missed if you weren't looking for it. Even with that lingering shade, she was breathtaking.

The moment was shattered by the arrival of the plant horde. Vines and tendrils reached for Thaddeus, trying to pull him away from Juno.

"Oh, no you don't," Juno muttered, her eyes narrowing. With a swift motion, she pulled out her wand and cast a shield charm around them, creating a bubble that the plants couldn't penetrate.

Thaddeus let out a relieved breath. Why hadn't he thought of that instead of panicking like a freshman? "Thank you," he said, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "I may have made a slight miscalculation with my latest potion."

Juno's lips twitched, fighting a smile. "A slight miscalculation? You're being chased by every plant in your lab. What did you do, brew a love potion for flora?"

"Not intentionally," Thaddeus admitted, feeling a flush creep up his neck. "I was trying to create a growth enhancement potion. It seems I overshot the mark somewhat."

"And here I thought I was having a bad day," she said, her eyes dancing with mirth. "At least the plants aren't trying to seduce me."

He noticed her skin was looking much better—almost back to its normal shade. The remedy he'd given her was working, faster than he'd expected. She caught him studying her face and touched her cheek self-consciously.

"Your treatment is working wonders," she admitted grudgingly. "I should be back to normal by tomorrow."

Despite himself, Thaddeus felt a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm glad to hear it, though green was a very fetching color on you," he said, reaching out to brush a stray curl from her forehead.

Juno's breath caught, her eyes widening at his touch. Thaddeus leaned closer, drawn in by the passion in her gaze. Then, abruptly, the shield charm flickered and died. They were immediately swarmed by the waiting plants, breaking the moment.

"We need to get out of here," Juno said, grabbing Thaddeus's hand and pulling him to his feet. "Come on, I think I know a way to fix this."

They ran down the hallway hand in hand, Thaddeus's lovesick botanical admirers in hot pursuit. Despite the absurdity of the situation, Thaddeus felt a thrill with Juno's hand in his, and in the way she turned back to flash him a grin full of exhilaration and mischief.

They burst into Juno's laboratory, slamming the door shut behind them just as the first vine reached them. Juno quickly cast a sealing charm on the door, muffling the sounds of disappointed plants on the other side.

"That should hold them for now," she said, turning to face Thaddeus. "Now, let's see if we can't brew an antidote for your admirers."

As they worked side by side, mixing ingredients and trading theories, Thaddeus was struck by how natural it felt. It was like no time had passed since their student days, when they'd spent countless hours experimenting together in this very lab.

"You know," Juno said as she stirred their concoction, "this reminds me of that time in our fifth year when we accidentally turned Professor Silvergaze's beard into a patch of singing sunflowers."

Thaddeus chuckled at the memory. "I'd almost forgotten about that. He was furious until the sunflowers started serenading him with his favorite opera."

Juno's laugh joined his, the sound filling the laboratory with a pleasant hum. "We made a good team back then," she said, her eyes meeting his.

"We still do," Thaddeus replied, holding her gaze. The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. "Hey, I'm sorry that I took the last of the orchid."

"You won it fair and square," she said with a small, resigned sigh.

"And I'm sorry I let the hurt between us fester for so long." He reached down to hold her hand.

"Thaddeus," she said, her eyes wide with shock.

"Juno, I—"

The moment was broken by a loud bang from the door, followed by the sound of splintering wood. The plants had grown impatient.

"I think that's our cue," Juno said, pulling away from him and quickly pouring the antidote into a vial. "Ready to face your admirers one last time?"

Thaddeus nodded, taking a deep breath. "Ready as I'll ever be."

They opened the door together, immediately engulfed by a wave of grasping vines and amorous flora. Juno raised the vial triumphantly.

"All right, you overgrown bouquets!" she called out. "Party's over!"

She uncorked the vial, releasing a fine mist that settled over the plants. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the vines began to retreat. The plants drooped, looking almost sheepish as they slunk back to their pots and planters.

As the last of the foliage cleared, Thaddeus and Juno were left standing in the hallway, disheveled and breathless. They looked at each other, taking in their ridiculous appearances—Thaddeus covered in glittering dust, Juno with just a hint of green still tinting her skin—and burst into laughter.

"Well," Thaddeus said when he could finally catch his breath, "I suppose we're even now. You with your impromptu makeover, me with my plant harem."

Juno grinned, her eyes sparkling. "I don't know, Thaddeus. I think you still owe me for saving you from a fate worse than death. Imagine if the mandrakes had caught up to you."

Thaddeus shuddered at the thought. "I suppose I do owe you a debt of gratitude," he admitted. "Perhaps I could make it up to you over dinner? Once you've returned to your natural color completely, of course."

A hint of vulnerability showing through her usual confident demeanor. "I'd like that," she said.

He reached out, gently taking Juno's hand in his again. "You know," he said, his voice low, "that hint of green really does suit you. It brings out your eyes."

Juno's cheeks darkened to a deeper shade, but she didn't pull away. "And you," she replied, reaching up to brush some glittering dust from his cheek, "look like you've been kissed by starlight."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them faded away. Thaddeus leaned in, drawn by an irresistible force. Juno tilted her face up, her eyes fluttering closed.

He kissed her again, needing to feel her soft body against him again. But before they could get carried away and wound up trysting in her lab, it was important that she knew how he felt about her. How he had always felt about her.

"Juno, I—"

And then, with a sudden pop, Thaddeus felt his voice vanish. His eyes widened in surprise, his hand flying to his throat.

Juno blinked, confusion replacing the anticipation on her face. "Thaddeus? Are you all right?"

...love you.

But no sound came out. In the chaos of the evening, the last spell had backlashed on him, leaving him temporarily mute. Again.

As realization dawned on Juno's face, Thaddeus saw a mischievous glint appear in her eyes. "Well," she said, a smirk playing at her lips, "it looks like you're spellbound and gagged. Now would be the perfect time to tell you all about the changes I'm going to make in the herbology department when I'm the new department head."

Despite his predicament, Thaddeus smiled. He'd listen to her because he owed her for taking the orchid and for helping him cure the horny plants. But most of all, he listened because he loved her, and this time, he wasn't going to let anything come between them.