Cho moved swiftly through the corridors, every footfall absorbed by stone. Walking silently was an art that her family expected every member to master, and Cho was always an overachiever. But tonight somehow felt resistant, difficult, what with her own nerves still charged with what Harry Potter had done.
What he had dared to do.
It hadn't been a kiss. No impulsive, clumsy fumbling or whispered flattery. Kissing was a versatile art that found use from seduction to manipulation to execution. While she was yet to be involved in the family business, she knew how to perform the art well.
Cedric Diggory had his uses more than just being a model boyfriend.
But Harry…. Harry was different. Unlike Cedric who saw her through the lens of admiration or possession, Harry saw her like an equation. One he had already solved and was only now letting her catch up.
There was something different about being touched by someone who didn't need to ask. Who didn't plead or prod or coax. Who just offered—knowing she would reach out and take.
And she had taken it.
Cedric never made her feel like that.
Not once.
She turned into the narrower passage leading to Ravenclaw Tower, the one she preferred late at night. Fewer eyes. More air. Just like she preferred. As she passed the disused classroom before the stairwell, a hand gripped her arm and yanked her inside.
Instincts long trained from her familial disciplines screamed.
She twisted, slammed the attacker against the wall, her forearm pressing against their throat, wand drawn and pointed squarely between the eyes.
A startled sound broke the tension. Her grip tightened. The figure squirmed, and the sound became a gasp.
"Finite," she snapped.
The shimmer of the Disillusionment Charm fell away, revealing tousled brown hair and wide, furious eyes.
"Cedric?" she breathed.
She released him instantly, wand still at the ready. He stumbled back, coughing and clutching his throat.
"Merlin, Cho," he wheezed. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"You ambushed me! What else was I supposed to think?"
"Obviously, it's me! Who else would—?" he broke off, coughing again, massaging his throat.
She stepped back, scanning the room. Dust hung thick in the air. Moonlight filtered in, casting long shadows. This classroom had once been theirs. Now, it was just another relic.
She let the silence sit for a moment. "So, can I ask why you were creeping around like some rejected villain?"
He scowled. "I saw you. In the library. With Potter."
"And?" she said coolly.
"What's going on, Cho?"
"We were working on a project."
"Is that what we're calling it now?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously doing this?"
"You were flushed. Laughing. I saw you hold his hand."
"I was helping him trace a dual-aspect rune pattern. You'd know if you actually paid attention to the subject instead of lobbying around."
"Don't play dumb."
"And don't project your insecurities onto me," she shot back. "Professor Babbling assigned me to oversee Potter's project. Something about his rune matrices being unprecedented, apparently."
"And you didn't refuse?"
"Why would I?"
She paused, just long enough.
"Oh, I don't know. Because he's doing his best to ruin your boyfriend's career?"
Cho mentally counted to ten. If a fourth-year could ruin your career, chances were you didn't have one to begin with.
"Potter's project is… unique. Unprecedented. One would call it suspicious even. There's a reason Professor Babbling offered it to me."
He stared at her. "So... you're spying on him?"
"Spying is such a dramatic word." She stepped closer, her tone lowering. "I'm just working with him on the project. If he's conning, I'll know. If there's something solid about his skills, I'll know that too. It helps that Potter had a crush on me. It wasn't hard playing into his little schoolboy fantasy."
Cedric looked stunned. "And you didn't tell me?"
She placed her hand gently on his cheek, her voice softening. "Because I know you, Cedric. I knew you'd overreact. Like now. And I needed him to believe there was nothing strange about it. If you didn't look angry or suspicious, he'd have no reason to doubt me."
"You — you actually arranged for it to look like…." He leaned into her touch. "You're doing this for us?"
"Of course. Everything I've learned about him — his changes, his sudden surge in power, confidence, the way everyone's reacting to him, his surprising skills — it's all building up to something. I know I can crack through that facade."
A look of vindication flashed on his face. "I knew something was fishy about him. Even at the World Cup."
Cho mentally felt sorry for herself. How did she miss this side of Cedric Diggory? Had she been too caught up in the charm and the dazzling confidence that she ignored that it was a glass cannon?
"Potter was ecstatic to work with me. You should've heard him. How he watched me from afar while I hung out with you? How he wanted to impress me last year by defeating you in Quidditch, but you caught the snitch instead?"
"He was rather stingy about it," said Cedric, openly smirking. "I guess his sole excuse is that the dementors intervened in the match."
"Word for word," said Cho.
Like she said. Really, really sorry.
His shoulders eased. "You're incredible."
"Tell me something I don't know." She gave him a tight smile. "I know. Which is why I'm wondering why you thought tailing me under a Disillusionment Charm was a good idea."
He flushed.
"You doubted me," she said, scowling. "You thought I was ditching you. For Harry Potter. And you panicked like an insecure little brat."
He reached for her hand. She let him take it.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
She squeezed his fingers, then let go.
"Let me do this, Cedric. If Potter's project works, I get a share. It'll fetch me a good addition to my resume. And you'll get an inside view of Potter's side of the table. I've little to lose. So why don't you take your jealousy somewhere else and let this Ravenclaw do what she does best?"
He nodded.
Cho left him in the room, the dust curling in her wake. She didn't stop when he whispered a good night, or pause for the usual goodnight kiss. And most of all, she kept herself from smirking at how easy it was.
One hand on the heart. One push on the pride. And the Hufflepuff folded right back into place.
She didn't know if she wanted Harry, or if she just wanted what Harry offered — his clarity, power and mystery.
She didn't care that Cedric was no longer in her way.
And she definitely wasn't nervous about the next big step she wanted to make with Harry Potter.
"I''m not nervous," she told herself for the nth time, as she smoothened her uniform skirt, straightened her posture, and stepped into the quiet study room. This room was barely frequented by students, since most preferred the library, or the ones closest to the staircase or the grounds. Hell, there were even fewer cupboards along this particular corridor.
There would be no one here tonight. Except Harry and herself.
She shut the door softly behind her, grabbing her satchel, noticing his smile as she stepped in. How long had he been there? His eyes flickered to her hands, then her collar, then back to her eyes.
"Evening, Chang," he said, resting back on his palms on the bench. Next to him was a parchment, one that he had been recently working on if the inkstains on his sleeves were any clue.
"Potter."
She dropped her bag beside him and slid into the seat. No shivering, she told herself. Her excitement often got in her way, and she wouldn't let that happen tonight.
"I've been thinking about the matrix."
Harry tilted his head.
"Your theory holds for structured rituals, but I wanted to try something smaller,'' she said, pushing a hair behind her ear, meeting his eyes. "A test case. Still a system operating under causality, only…. Less complex."
He turned to her fully now. "Such as?"
She tapped the parchment and muttered something under her breath. Instantly, a familiar rune matrix appeared on it. It was a mix of Algiz interwoven with Sowilo and Gebo, with Perthro anchoring at four corners.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded strip of deep navy fabric.
"It's silk," she said, placing it daintily between them. "A piece from my old robes. You can cut it in any direction with the standard cutting charm. But say, you wanted the cut to happen along a specific axis every time we cast the spell…."
"You direct your wand in that direction. Simple."
She ignored the dismissal in his tone. "I agree. But what if you could add the direction as a parameter in the spell itself? And then cast it using runes?"
His eyes brightened. "Enacting a predetermined future…"
"By decreasing randomness," said Cho. 'Granted, it's far too simplistic, but —"
"But if it holds, then it must hold for more complex spells. If the path of a magical action can be predetermined, then we can take the concept of direction to add other factors…." Harry began excitedly.
And wasn't he quick? Pursing her lips, Cho drew her wand and aligned the silk on the rune-marked cutting board. Harry watched her as she traced a clean path, several degrees off the vertical axis.
Then she touched the center of the fabric and whispered.
"'Diffindo."
The silk parted down her traced path in a single, seamless slice—not a thread out of place.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"I know it's manual for now," said Cho, nodding. "But still, the prediction works."
"Not very useful," Harry mused. "You had to trace the exact pattern beforehand. In any practical system, you wouldn't get this… intimate with the process. Unless you're doing it yourself, it's practically redundant."
Cho didn't argue. He had a point.
"What if…" he said, narrowing his eyes, "I just used intent—and let that trigger the rune scheme?"
"No physical contact?" Cho asked, intrigued. Technically, what he was suggesting could be replicated using sub-vocalization. But silent-casting a cutting spell to operate with such finesse would need complete mastery of the charm. Easily NEWT level.
Or.
This particular rune grid.
"I suppose it's worth testing."
Harry duplicated the rune schema on a piece of the torn fabric, and pointed his wand at it, making sure it was at least a foot away.
"Diffindo."
SNAPPPPPERR!
The fabric exploded.
Tiny, frayed shreds burst outward in every direction like confetti. The air filled with the rustle of silk flutters as slivers settled across the room—on their notes, their robes, even in Cho's hair.
Harry blinked. "Huh. Didn't see that coming."
Neither did she.
Nothing in their calculations, nothing in the predictive schema, had suggested this outcome. Diffindo was a clean-line severing charm. Reliable. Predictable. And yet, this had behaved like a cross between Diffindo and Bombarda—if such a hybrid could even exist.
A minima version, maybe?
No. She had seen him. He had spoken the incantation clearly. His wand movements were precise. There had been no deviation.
Then what?
Her eyes flicked back to the parchment, to the glowing matrix still humming faintly.
It must have been the rune scheme.
Had to be.
"That went well," said Harry. "Alright, what do we have next?"
Cho blinked, and then realised her real plan for tonight. Harry's actions had unwittingly opened up a new way to get things moving along nicely, without her coming off as too bold.
"Um, I did try being a little creative earlier with the matrix," she said. "See this glyph overlay?" She pointed at the center of the rune inscription. "I added an auxiliary path into the matrix. It doesn't need the hex cast directly. The matrix channels the cutting hex through this pre-written structure, and activates it with a whisper."
"A whisper," he leaned closer, studying it. "And you embedded it directly? Into the matrix?"
"Exactly," Cho said, pleased. "I wanted it to feel more like fate acting through us. We employ different stimuli to channel intent through the rune—and the hex executes perfectly, but only where we want it to."
"I slice as I speak?" said Harry, amused.
Cho blushed. "The rune has enough magic to tear the cloth in a straight line. But our whisper — carrying our intent — will decide where the tearing must happen."
"Our whisper…" repeated Harry.
"Ravenclaw dorm rooms aren't exactly the most private areas," she admitted, giving her best shy expression. "Whispers are better than uttering things aloud, and I didn't want more curious eyes on this."
"Alright, but we don't have any cloth left," Harry pointed out. "Perhaps we can summon —"
"From where?" Cho demanded. "My dorm? Or yours? Wouldn't it look suspicious if our clothes started flying out of our rooms? Might give people the wrong idea."
Harry laughed. "You might be right about that. So… conjuring?"
"And risk the conjuration magic interfering with the experiment?"
"No then."
"Well…" she trailed off, blushing. "We could use our own clothes. I mean, it's just… a cutting hex, nothing else. We inscribe the inscription on different parts of our robes, and calibrate it to different trigger points, and different stimuli. See if Fate decides its path."
Harry rolled his wand between his fingers. "You realise we're basically attempting to use probability as a fabric to alter an object's physical constitution?"
"Probability was always there," Cho countered. "We're only consciously manipulating it."
Harry grinned, something darkly amused flickering in his gaze. "Which means our clothes will unravel exactly how fate wants them to."
"Not fate," she corrected. "Us. We are the ones writing fate tonight."
They set up quickly. A low hum of magic thickened the air as they re-anchored the ritual matrix onto their robes. Cho worked meticulously, copying the glyph along her own sleeves and collar, silently uttering trigger points.
Harry mirrored her, equally methodical. The flick of his wand, the way his lips moved over syllables—so sure, so easy. He hadn't even taken runes before this year? How was he so confident at this?
When they were done, he raised his eyes. "Ready?"
She nodded. "Choose your trigger."
Harry stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Cho could feel his breath against the hollow of her throat.
"Here," he whispered.
Cho shivered.
A narrow incision appeared between her collar buttons, leaving the rest of her shirt untouched.
Cho smiled. "My turn."
She stepped behind him, fingers ghosting over his wrist. The rune flared faintly under her touch as she dragged her hand up his forearm, across the bicep, over the shoulder—and then down the other side.
"Here," she whispered.
A sound like paper tearing whispered through the air. The shirt split down the upper back and arms with perfect precision.
A breath later, it fell.
His shirt dropped to the floor in two halves, leaving his back bare to the light.
Her eyes traced the lean muscles flexing beneath his skin. Cedric carried his physique like a trophy. Harry didn't. He was lean, coiled, honed by purpose rather than vanity. A swimmer's form, maybe. A predator's stillness. She let her palm press flat against the middle of his back, feeling the heat radiating from him.
It felt like touching a secret.
Like pressing her fingers against a future no one else had seen yet.
"If all you wanted was a free show, you could've just asked, you know," said Harry, amused and turning around.
"It isn't like that," said Cho, blushing and stepping back, taking his entire form into account. This time, her eyes went to the scar on his upper arm. She traced its outline and lifted an eyebrow.
"Basilisk fang," he said. "From the Chamber of Secrets back in second year."
Cho's jaw fell open. The stories were true? "An… an actual basilisk?"
"And a ruddy big thing it was too," said Harry, chuckling. "Easily sixty feet or more. I'll get to know its exact dimensions after Gringotts sends those bloody harvesters."
Cho blinked again. She had, of course, heard of the private auction of basilisk parts that the Ministry of Magic had set up.
"Apparently the Ministry wants the harvesting to happen after the other schools come here and the Triwizard tournament begins. I swear our Minister is an attention whore."
Cho laughed uneasily, feeling so very small and out-of-place. Something she had little experience with. Instead, she focussed her attention on the other marks on his body, wondering what other secrets they were hiding.
"Ah, that one," said Harry, as she touched the hollow of his throat, finding thin blackened marks that looked eerily like someone's fingers. "Burns from the time Professor Quirrel tried to strangle me."
Cho had heard stories about his Unforgivables class with Professor Moody, where he had shared a little about his struggle against Quirrel. Since the Headmaster, the DMLE director, and other members were present there, she saw little worth in doubting his word.
"It's like you and I live in very different worlds, you know," she whispered.
"I can give you a tour of mine, if you want," he quipped.
Briefly, Cho considered taking him on his offer, before stepping back. "Your turn. What stimulus will you use next?"
Harry arched his brow. "Well, it's obvious that voice and physical touch work perfectly as stimuli. I'm more interested in seeing if the intent can change the nature of the spell itself."
"Oh, how?"
"Well, we've seen that the spell cuts at the point of stimulation. But what if there are more than one at different points simultaneously?"
"I hadn't considered that. Should be interesting."
He stepped closer. Cho inhaled his cologne. It made her loins stir.
His hands came close to her bosom, barely an inch away, but still refraining from touching. "May I?"
"It's all for research, isn't it?"
His lips twisted into a smirk. "Absolutely."
"Hmm. Go on then."
He cupped both of her breasts above her shirt, and Cho couldn't suppress the moan erupting out of her throat at his touch. Just what was it that he did to her? Merlin, she had been Cedric's girlfriend over the past year and had dated before that, so she was no stranger to the pleasures of flesh, but this… this was something else.
It was like every place he touched, or even breathed, somehow turned into an erogenous zone.
"Rip," he breathed.
The inscription activated right away, causing perfectly-cut circles along Cho's bosom, revealing her vivid teal brassiere. It was a sharp contrast with the reddening that was slowly climbing up her neck and cheeks. Much to his surprise, she pulled the now torn shirt and sat in just her bra and skirt.
"Well, obviously I wasn't going to sit wearing that," she sniffed. That he could still see her bra and the bosom it did little to hide, only better than before — was conveniently forgotten. Her instincts screamed at her to conjure something — a blanket, a shirt, anything to hide herself from his eyes, to do something.
Anything.
But she didn't.
Instead, she met his gaze calmly, marvelling at his audacity as he touched her collarbone with a finger, before it moved —lower, slower—dragging warmth in their wake like ink spilled across skin.
Her breath hitched. She felt her pulse stutter beneath his touch and hated how easy it was for him to do this to her. How natural it felt to stand there and let him.
Cedric was always cautious, respectful to the point of annoyance. Harry touched her like he owned her. Like asking for permission was an amusement at best.
She tilted her chin up slightly, letting him look, letting him see. After all, she'd spent years perfecting that very image.
She wasn't curvy like Lavender Brown or coltish like Padma Patil. She didn't have the beefy jugs that Susan Bones hoarded either. But what she did have was symmetry. Clean lines. The kind of beauty that made you sit straighter. Speak slower. Look twice. Her beauty was contained, deliberate; her skin smooth as white jade, hair a silken river of black velvet falling down her spine. Her eyes were shaped like almonds, cold and exact, and rarely gave anything away.
The exotic Seeker. The untouchable Ravenclaw.
And yet here she was, her breath shallowing, as Potter of all people unfastened her like parchment.
His hand brushed just beneath the swell of one breast, and electricity ran through it. She didn't know how, but her nipples were already hard enough to cut something. In the cool air, pleasure spiked hard, her panties growing wet at the stimulation.
Merlin! What was he doing to her?
Her entire body thrummed with need. Harry had never looked more attractive, his handsome face exuding a masculine aura, an appealing sight for the undersexed fifth-year. That she was getting like this despite him having his pants on somehow made it better and worse.
She had been bred on restraint. But he was making it impossible to remember why. And in that moment of insanity, she did something unexpected.
She kissed him.
Reaching for the back of his head, she pulled him roughly, her open mouth reaching his.
As if meant to do so, their mouths formed a tight seal as soon as they met, and just as quickly, their tongues were all over each other. Duelling, swirling around each other, mashed together, exchanging spit. Lips pressed against lips, cheeks hollowed, this was anything but romantic. This was crazed, hungry, animalistic lust, two lovers feeding off each other. Just a few weeks before, Harry Potter was someone to dismiss, and now, her tongue was down his throat, and he was giving her as good as he was getting.
She kissed him till her lungs were burning for oxygen, separating with a heated grasp, and yet she retained her hold over his neck, uncaring that her breasts were smashed against his ripped chest.
"Chang," Harry whispered. "All this has been fun, but before we get past this, I want you to think deep and hard about what you're doing. About Diggory."
Cho's blood rang hot with indignation. She wanted to have only one thing 'deep and hard' and Cedric was nowhere close to that thought.
"What about him?" She sneered.
"He's your boyfriend, you've been together for a year and more."
"Didn't stop you from fingering me earlier at the library," she spat, folding her hands back beneath her tits. Harry nodded with a 'well, you got me there' kind of expression before she continued, "And Diggory obviously has better things to do. Like wallow in self-pity, or cry at the injustice of it all, while making a mockery of himself and everything he stands for."
"And you decided to dump him for me?"
"I decided to be my own person," said Cho, scowling. "I'm not his trophy, nor someone sitting around, waiting for him to return home victorious, so that I might bask in his reflection."
She really didn't understand Harry Potter. He had agreed to let her partner him in his project, knowing the underlying risks. No doubt he had been supremely confident that he had nothing to fear, or even worse, that he had nothing to fear her risking his secret plan of rigging the tournament in his favour. He had read her blatant invitation right, and certainly had no qualms in pushing things down that lane.
And now… after all this…
"He's really pissed you off, hasn't he?"
Cho gave him a very unfriendly smile in acknowledgment.
Nodding, Harry ran his eyes up and down her body with complete approval. "I'll tell you this though, Chang. Once you get in with me, you might never get out of this rabbit hole."
His finger dipped to her navel, and rested on the waistband of her skirt, where the last of her uniform's structure clung to the illusion of propriety.
It would've been so easy to stop him. To swat his hand away. Say a word. Shift her weight. Refuse.
But she didn't.
"What I do… it isn't just pleasure. Or pain. It's a rabbit hole so deep down, that before you know it, I will own you."
Her stomach fluttered under his touch. Not in nervousness—no, she didn't get nervous.
Anticipation.
Because she wanted to see if he'd keep going. Wanted to know how far he'd push. Wanted to know if her carefully crafted balance—perfect student, dutiful girlfriend, ever-collected Cho Chang—could survive being undone by the boy who now was about to have his way with her.
She had always carried herself with an air that said 'you may look, but not touch'. Her legs were long, strong from years of flying, tapering to elegant knees and dancer's calves. Her thighs were shaped more by discipline than indulgence—toned, with just enough curve to suggest she wasn't untouched by vanity.
She hoped they'd stay firm and standing after Potter was done with her.
"Show me."