"So, what specific type of chemistry do you want to learn today, hmm~?"
Bellatrix asked, her voice taking on a sudden, playful lilt. She leaned against the doorframe of her apartment, tilting her head slightly. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she tried to tease him, clearly making a conscious effort to get him back for the intense embarrassment he had caused her earlier that morning.
Max stood in the hallway, looking at her sudden shift in demeanor. He didn't blush. He didn't stammer. Instead, he just let out a low, smooth laugh and immediately fired a tease right back at her.
"Maybe… I want to learn the romantic kind of chemistry?" Max replied, his amber eyes locking onto hers, his voice dropping into a deep, velvety tone that carried a hint of a dangerous promise.
"Tch!" Bellatrix instantly clicked her tongue loudly, her confident facade shattering into a million pieces. The faint blush returned to her cheeks immediately. She turned her head away, completely unable to pay him back or escalate the banter any further. She was thoroughly outmatched.
Max looked at her flustered state in sheer, quiet amusement.
'Ohh, dear Bell. This is exactly why you shouldn't try to tease me in a battle of wits,' Max thought inwardly, a fond, nostalgic smile touching the corners of his lips. 'I've already spent lifetimes being teased by Emhy, and she was a master at it. You are just not on her level when it comes to paying it back or holding your ground.'
He remembered the dark blue-haired elf and how effortlessly she could render him speechless with a single, sharp look or a whispered word. Surviving her teasing had forged his mental defenses into pure steel.
Max then casually pushed himself off the wall and stood up straight. He pointed a thumb toward the interior of her apartment.
"Hey, can I take a look at your lab now?" Max asked, his tone shifting back to friendly curiosity. "I really want to know how a beautiful, highly intelligent scientist like you creates your… umm, chemist products."
Bellatrix sighed heavily, rolling her gray eyes playfully as she recovered her composure.
"You know, for a legendary hitman and a supposed hero like you, the way you try to flirt with a woman is so old and outdated, bro," Bellatrix criticized gently, crossing her arms over her white lab coat. "You need to use the modern, Gen Z way! Though, sure. Come on in. I'll lead you to where I make my 'chemist products'."
Max let out a hearty laugh as he stepped through the doorway.
'Nahh, I'll pass on that,' Max inwardly said to himself, shaking his head. 'If I say what's actually on my mind, I'd just point out that there is so much internet brainrot living rent-free in your brain because you are a massive redditor and a chronic forum lurker.'
***
Max closed the front door behind him and followed Bellatrix down the short hallway of her apartment. He really didn't understand this current generation right now. It was full of bizarre slang, rapidly shifting trends, and nonsensical brainrot terms like "skibidi" or "6 7" or whatever else they were saying on the internet these days. He felt like an ancient relic trying to navigate a foreign planet.
Bellatrix stopped in front of a heavy, reinforced door at the end of the hall. She pulled a small keycard from her lab coat pocket, swiped it against a digital lock, and pushed the door open. She stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter and leading Max into her private sanctuary.
Max stepped through the doorway and immediately widened his amber eyes in deep, profound awe.
He had expected a small desk with a few glass tubes and maybe a microscope. What he walked into was a massive, professional-grade facility that rivaled the research and development wings of high-tier corporate pharmaceutical companies he had infiltrated in the past.
He looked around, trying to process the sheer scale of the room.
The first thing that hit him was the smell—a sharp, sterile scent of ozone, bleach, and rubbing alcohol. The room was incredibly spacious. The walls were lined with heavy glass cabinets, securely locked and packed tight with hundreds of perfectly organized flasks, precise beakers, fragile test tubes, and tall graduated cylinders.
In the corner of the room, mounted securely to the wall, was a large, heavy-duty Class ABC fire extinguisher, ready for immediate deployment. Right below it sat a bright yellow industrial spill kit fully stocked with chemical-absorbent materials, neutralizers, and heavy-duty disposal bags. Hanging on a neat rack near the entrance were several pairs of high-impact safety goggles, which Max noted looked exactly the same as the pair Bellatrix currently had pushed up into her blonde hair. Beside the goggles was a comprehensive, trauma-grade First Aid Kit, clearly prepared for severe chemical burns or lacerations.
Max walked further into the room, his eyes scanning the advanced hardware. Positioned directly near the large reinforced window of her room was a highly expensive, mechanical fume hood. It was humming quietly, its internal ventilation system designed to suck toxic vapors safely out of the building.
The countertops were cluttered but organized. He saw delicate watch glasses, digital and analog thermometers, highly sensitive electronic pH meters, glass stirring rods, and intricate filtration funnels that looked like they had been heavily used.
And positioned directly in the center of the massive space, serving as the core workstation of her entire operation, was a sturdy, incredibly large workbench. Max walked over to it and ran his hand across the sleek, dark surface.
'This feels extremely durable,' Max noted silently, tapping the surface with his knuckles. 'It seems to be a highly chemical-resistant top that uses a thick epoxy resin, reinforced with a stainless steel and thick PVC under-layer. Of course she needs to use one of these if she's a serious chemist working with volatile compounds. Goddamnit, use your damn brain, Max. This is already common sense for this level of work.'
As he was inspecting the table, a metaphorical question mark seemed to appear floating above Bellatrix's head. She watched him trace the edges of the furniture with the practiced eye of a professional appraiser.
"Hmm? It seems you are taking a really deep interest in my equipment, Max," Bellatrix pointed out, leaning against a nearby counter.
Max pulled his hand back quickly and scratched the back of his head, offering a sheepish smile.
"Ahh! Yeah, sorry about that," Max replied. "I'm just in sheer awe of how you managed to fit so many massive things like this inside a regular apartment! Like, look at this one over here!"
Max walked toward the far wall and pointed a finger at a towering, complex apparatus made of shining metal and spiraling glass tubes.
"This one! A massive, multi-stage distilled water and purification system!" Max said, his voice rising in disbelief. "Like, how can this even fit in your room? And furthermore, I thought most of the rooms in this apartment complex had the exact same standard interior size. Did Lady Irmela seriously give you a fucking three-room suite just for this laboratory?!"
Bellatrix let out a bright, ringing laugh, highly amused by his shock.
"Yeah, actually, she did!" Bellatrix replied cheerfully, walking over to pat the side of the distilled water tank. "When I first moved in, I told my auntie that I desperately needed a very large room for my private research. I told her I didn't care how much rent I needed to pay to get the space. So, she looked at the floor plan and just gave me three adjacent rooms on this floor, and let me modify it by knocking down the non-load-bearing walls to create one massive, unified laboratory."
She smiled warmly, her gray eyes softening. "Though, the best part is that auntie said the renovations and the extra space were entirely on her, since I'm her beloved niece. Hahaha, I guess she always favors me so much that she just gave me three extra rooms for free."
Max nodded his head slowly, his jaw slightly tense as he stood there in deep shock and lingering envy.
'That is so incredibly unfair. I want something exactly like this kind of VIP treatment too!' Max thought bitterly to himself, crossing his arms. 'Sigh. I wish Lady Irmela was my aunt, or at least a distant relative of mine. Or at least—'
He turned his head slightly and looked at Bellatrix, studying her bright smile and her brilliant mind.
'Would it be a good tactical move if I actually tried to marry her, just so I could officially get the same landlord treatment and free rent too?' Max mused inwardly, viewing the situation purely through the lens of a calculating survivor.
Bellatrix noticed his intense, analyzing stare. She raised an eyebrow, reaching up to touch her cheek.
"What? Is there something on my face?" she asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
Max quickly shook his head side to side, dispelling the ridiculous thought.
'Nahh, that's taking it way too far,' Max reasoned with himself. 'But, to be completely honest, I really wouldn't mind dating someone like her. She's smart, capable, and interesting. But…'
A dark memory from his days in the criminal underground surfaced in his mind.
'…I clearly hear the voice of one of the veteran mercenaries from my time in the crime world. He once told me, over a bottle of cheap whiskey, that most highly intelligent women scientists like her are entirely 'crazy bitches' when it comes to sex, and they naturally possess a much higher, more intense libido than most normal women.'
Max remembered the grizzled mercenary taking a long drag of his cigar, grinning wildly.
'Though, he also immediately followed it up by saying, 'Hey, don't get me wrong! I didn't regret dating someone like her for a second! I love crazy bitches!' '
Max let out a soft, internal laugh as he remembered the guy saying it so proudly. Even back then, when Max was still a highly socially awkward person, constantly hiding in the bloody shadows of the underworld, he had been in shock hearing it. He couldn't believe that hardened killers like him literally possessed such toxic, chaotic tastes in women.
But then he remembered his own timeline. When he met Emhy? When he fell in love with the Witch of Calamity, the most dangerous, unhinged elf in the magical realm?
Yeah. He couldn't blame that mercenary anymore for having such a specific, chaotic taste. He was exactly the same.
Max sighed quietly, pushing the distracting memories of his past lovers out of his head, and forced himself to refocus on looking at her laboratory room. He was here for a crucial mission.
"All right, let's get this started," Max declared, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms out in front of him to loosen up. "So, what do I need to do first, Teacher Bell?"
Bellatrix laughed brightly at his attempt at a formal title, clearly enjoying the dynamic.
"Teasing me again, are we?" she challenged playfully.
She walked purposefully across the lab floor, closing the distance between them. She stopped right in front of him, reached up with both hands, and boldly grabbed the collar of his gray t-shirt. She pulled him down just an inch, forcing him to meet her gray eyes directly.
"Don't give me mixed signals, mister…." Bellatrix whispered, her voice dropping into a warning tone.
"….Because you need to know that most women like me can easily get crazy over a single, well-placed tease, you know~."
She held his gaze for a second longer before letting go of his collar and smoothing out the fabric on his chest. She took a step back, her playful smirk returning.
"And, for the record, don't ever call me 'teacher unc'. I am not that incredibly old," she stated firmly, placing her hands on her hips.
'Unc? Uncle? I'm not that old either!' Max complained inwardly, feeling a phantom pain in his back at being associated with the slang term for an old man.
Max sighed heavily, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
"Fine, whatever you say, Gen Z tard. I won't call you a 'teacher' anymore. Are you happy now?" Max replied with a deadpan expression.
Bellatrix only laughed harder at his grumpy response. She turned away from him and walked gracefully toward the main central working bench. She pulled out a tall, metal laboratory stool and sat down gracefully, grabbing a clean notepad and a pen from a nearby cup.
She opened the notepad, ready to work. But as she looked up, she raised her eyebrow in confusion.
Max was still standing exactly where she had left him, several feet away from the bench, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.
"Hey, what are you doing over there?" Bellatrix asked, tapping her pen against the paper.
"What? What do you mean?" Max replied, looking down at his feet. "I'm standing."
Bellatrix let out a long, exasperated sigh.
'Sigh, God please help me deal with this man…' Bellatrix prayed silently to the ceiling.
"Ju—just come over here and sit down on the stool beside me!" Bellatrix instructed, pointing to the empty metal stool right next to her. "And then you can formally tell me exactly what you want to learn to help you fight that green-eyed stalker of yours."
Max slowly walked toward her, an incredibly awkward expression painted across his handsome face.
'What's her problem?' Max grumbled in his internal monologue as he crossed the room. 'I just stood there because it's deeply rude to just sit down right beside a lady without asking for her explicit permission first! And furthermore, I would have eventually asked her permission, but she just abruptly cut me off and got annoyed. Sigh. Emhy was never, ever this confusing to deal with. And besides, she was always the one who deeply understood my boundaries and always adjusted her approach when I was getting socially awkward around her…'
Max pulled out the heavy metal stool and sat down carefully beside her. He sighed again, leaning his forearms against the cool epoxy surface of the workbench. He turned his head to look at her profile.
"Hey…" Max said softly.
"Hmm?" Bellatrix stopped writing the date at the top of the page and looked over at him, her pen hovering in the air.
"…You know, I was going to ask you first if it was okay to sit right beside you, right? It's just the formal, respectful way for a proper gentleman like me to do things when entering a lady's private space."
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow, staring at him as if he had just spoken a dead language.
"Really? A 'gentleman'?" Bellatrix scoffed lightly. "Sigh. Look, I know you would eventually ask, but I am currently in a massive rush. We deeply need to finish this stalker business quickly because my regional science fair tournament starts strictly next month. I don't have time for slow, archaic manners. So, I am sorry, 'Mr. Gentleman', for my extreme rudeness and for cutting you off."
She leaned a little closer to him, her gray eyes sincere.
"Also, I wouldn't even mind that you sit closely beside me anyway. We are already close enough neighbors, so you really shouldn't overthink it or ask about it constantly. I told you yesterday, I don't trust people easily, y'know. But I trust you."
'And, honestly, I wouldn't even mind if you tried to grope me right now after the fantasies I just had,' Bellatrix inwardly added, her internal thoughts taking a wildly inappropriate detour, though she kept her face a mask of scientific professionalism.
Max nodded his head, accepting her practical reasoning. He let out a breath, gathering his focus. The banter was over. It was time to get to the dark reality of why he was sitting in this laboratory.
"All right. Since you clearly don't mind me sitting closely beside you, I guess I gotta tell you exactly what I need to survive the coming weeks," Max said, his voice dropping into the cold, clinical tone of the Reaper. "And just so you know, I already did some preliminary research on my end last night, as I wrote down the specific list of what I need on this piece of paper."
Max reached into his left pocket and pulled out a small, neatly folded piece of white paper. He placed it on the workbench and slid it across the dark surface toward her.
Bellatrix put her pen down. She picked up the folded paper, her face curious. She opened it and began to read the neat, blocky handwriting.
Lists on what I Need:
Bombs:
Ricin Bomb
Mustard Gas Bomb
Phosgene Bomb
Gases That You Can Put in Cans or Bottles or Flasks:
Sarin (GB)
Hydrogen Cyanide (HCN)
Bellatrix stopped reading. Her eyes remained locked on the paper. The silence in the laboratory stretched out, thick and incredibly heavy.
She slowly lowered the paper, placing it flat on the workbench. She turned her head to look at Max. All the color had completely drained from her face. Her gray eyes were wide with a mixture of sheer horror and profound disbelief.
She nodded her head very slowly, as if trying to process the sheer magnitude of what she had just read.
"Is… is this all you want to learn?" Bellatrix asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Before Max could answer, she slammed her hand down on the paper.
"Max, are you out of your mind?!" Bellatrix practically screamed, the professional chemist instantly realizing the devastating reality of his request. "Why in God's name do you need something like this?! These aren't just simple poisons or smoke bombs! This list… this is military-grade madness! A single, functional delivery system utilizing these agents could effortlessly kill a whole city block! You're talking about deploying weapons of mass destruction in a residential area! You're not fighting a mythical demon, dude. You're fighting a guy in a van!"
Max didn't flinch at her outburst. He expected her to know exactly how dangerous these compounds were.
Max sighed heavily, leaning closer to her, his amber eyes reflecting a grim, unyielding reality.
"I know exactly what they are, Bell. And I know how devastating they can be," Max explained, his voice low and calm, trying to ground her panic. "But as my underworld contact said to me on the secure line last night… this specific person hunting me moves like a goddamn ghost."
He pointed a finger at the list. "Unlike me, who is also called a 'ghost' in the criminal world but always leaves a distinct, recognizable signature behind for my kills… this person is different. It's like that person does not even exist in the physical realm. They leave zero digital footprint, zero DNA, and zero camera footage. The only concrete thing we know for a fact is that this person has vibrant green eyes."
Max ran a hand through his hair, his frustration leaking out. "And finding someone based solely on that trait is already incredibly hard, since there are quite a few people in this massive city who have that eye color. But the core issue is that we don't have the time to research it properly. He is already here. He is already parking outside. If he comes for me, I need a weapon that cannot miss. I need an area-of-effect deterrent that will drop him the second he breaches my perimeter."
Bellatrix stared at his cold, calculating eyes. She looked down at the terrifying list of chemicals—substances designed solely for horrific, indiscriminate slaughter. She understood the deep, primal fear driving him, but the science terrified her.
Bellatrix let out a long, trembling sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes tightly.
"Fair enough," Bellatrix whispered, opening her eyes. "If you truly believe your life is in that much immediate danger… sure. I'll teach you the fundamental theories behind these agents. I will teach you how to handle the extreme volatility of these compounds safely so you don't kill us both by accident. But—"
Max's eyes narrowed instantly. "But what?" he questioned sharply, bracing for a massive financial demand or a moral ultimatum.
"You," Bellatrix pointed a firm finger directly at his chest, "need to accompany me for the upcoming regional science fair and the major science tournament next month."
Max blinked, completely thrown off balance by the mundane request. "What?"
"I joined that specific tournament months ago," Bellatrix explained, her voice gaining strength. "And the grand prize for winning the primary division is exactly what I have been desperately searching for! If I am going to risk federal prison teaching a former hitman how to make chemical deterrents, you are going to be my official lab assistant and bodyguard at that fair."
Max sat back on his stool, letting the absurdity of the situation wash over him. A legendary assassin, learning chemical warfare from a genius chemist, in exchange for chaperoning a science fair.
"Sure. I really don't mind doing that for you," Max responded slowly. "But I have a serious question about this."
"Sure. Ask away," Bellatrix said, crossing her arms.
"What exactly is this grand reward that you wanted to get from this nerd convention?" Max asked, raising an eyebrow. "What could possibly be the prize that you wanted so bad that you willingly joined a stressful, competitive tournament for it?"
Bellatrix uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. She looked at him deeply, focusing her bright gray eyes intensely onto his amber eyes, conveying the absolute gravity of her desire.
"Well," Bellatrix began, her voice dropping into a reverent whisper. "The grand reward is the brand new, highly exclusive released gaming console. The PS6."
Max stared at her.
"And since it's newly released and incredibly hard to find due to scalpers," Bellatrix continued passionately, "the retail price of it is currently hovering around 15, 300 dollars! Which, unfortunately, is money I don't have right now, because I spent my entire quarterly research budget on this new distilled water system."
Max rubbed his face with both hands, groaning loudly.
"PS6? Ahh… you literally mean a PlayStation 6?" Max said, his voice flat.
Bellatrix nodded enthusiastically, a bright smile on her face.
Max sighed, reaching for his wallet out of pure habit. "Bell. You know I could literally just buy it for you right now, right? I have so much offshore money sitting in my secure bank accounts that I could buy the entire Sony production factory if I really wanted to."
Bellatrix violently shook her head side to side the moment she heard what he was trying to say.
"Nahh, nahh, nahh!" Bellatrix rejected the offer instantly. "It's alright! Keep your blood money! I wanted to join the tournament primarily because I actually wanted to have fun with my science. But more importantly…"
Her bright smile slowly faded, replaced by a deep, vulnerable sadness.
"…I desperately want to experience the feeling of genuinely winning something. Earning it. Because I didn't get to experience that feeling even once since my childhood."
She looked down at her lap, her fingers tracing the edge of her lab coat.
"Also, even if the PS6 was not the grand prize, and it was something completely different and worthless, I would still want to join. Because I just want to enjoy the thrill of the competition, and to stand on a stage and experience winning first place, at least just this once in my entire life."
Bellatrix bowed her head deeply. Her blonde hair fell forward, hiding her face, as she seemed to be remembering something incredibly painful from her past.
Max remained silent. He looked at her slumped shoulders and the way she tightly gripped her own hands. As a master assassin, reading body language was second nature to him.
Looking at her now, he felt a sudden, powerful flash of recognition. He remembered suddenly what it felt like to be exactly like her.
He remembered when he was a teenager. Before the guns. Before the dark web. He remembered being entirely alone, constantly being bullied in the hallways of his school, and knowing that absolutely no one would ever take his side or defend him. He remembered the blinding anger when he finally decided to fight back against his tormentors.
Though, even when he was a socially awkward, terrified kid, he inherently knew how to violently defend himself. He had eventually taught his brutal bullies a lesson they would never forget, ensuring that three of them were put into a hospital intensive care unit for nearly a year. He had become a monster to survive the monsters.
But looking at Bellatrix, he knew her story was different. Unlike him, Bellatrix was not a delinquent, violent introvert. She was a gentle, brilliant scientist. She might have suffered far more deeply from the psychological cruelty of her bullies, simply because she didn't have the capacity to break their bones in return.
Max leaned closer, his voice softening considerably.
"If it's not too rude of me to pry… can I ask you a personal question, Bell?" Max asked gently.
Bellatrix sniffled quietly, keeping her head bowed. "Sure."
"Did you get severely bullied during your childhood?" Max asked, his tone devoid of any pity, only understanding. "And is that the true reason why you want to experience winning so bad just this once? Because you never got to experience the joy of victory because the bullies always stole it from you or ruined it?"
Bellatrix slowly nodded her head, a stray tear falling onto the dark workbench.
"Ho—how did you know?" Bellatrix whispered, her voice trembling. "And… yeah. Those terrible people are the exact reason why I didn't ever experience what it felt like to win, at least once. Because they absolutely hated a 'weird nerd' like me."
She couldn't hold it back anymore. The dam broke, and she started to cry openly, her shoulders shaking with the weight of years of suppressed pain.
"Like—like, what did I even do to them?!" Bellatrix cried out, her voice cracking. "Is it really my fault that I love the beauty of chemistry rather than being a loud delinquent or a cheerleader? I—is it my fault that I happen to be a genius when it comes to chemical compounds, and it ended up making them feel stupid and jealous?!"
She wiped her eyes furiously with the back of her sleeve, but the tears kept coming.
"Sometimes… I wish I could at least just be normal. I wished I was not a nerd. Or at least, I wish I was just a completely average, forgettable person…"
She looked up at him, her gray eyes swimming with tears.
"…Even now, no one ever wants to date me properly because I'm such a massive nerd. Back then, they used to call me so many horrible insults about me being a freak chemist. They used to vandalize my locker and call me a 'future drug lord' or a 'freak bomb maker'. It hurt so much. I don't even know how to properly synthesize illegal street drugs! That's not my field! Sniff, sniff, sniff."
Max didn't hesitate. He reached out across the space between them. With a surprisingly gentle touch for a man with so much blood on his hands, he used his thumb to wipe a fresh tear as it was continuously dripping down her flushed cheek.
"Shh, shh," Max soothed her quietly. "It's not your fault, Bell. None of it was your fault, alright? They were weak, and they hated you because you were brilliant. And also… so what if you are a nerd?"
Max then moved his hands down and gently, firmly held both of her trembling hands within his own. His hands were warm and calloused.
"I don't even mind the idea of dating a brilliant genius like you," Max said, his amber eyes locking onto hers with absolute sincerity. "Hell, if I was ever given the proper chance, I would gladly marry you. Because I would rather want to spend my life with an incredibly smart, passionate woman than a shallow, bimbo one any day of the week."
Bellatrix widened her tear-filled eyes to an impossible degree. The sheer shock of his straightforward confession short-circuited her brain.
"Wha—what are you saying right now?!" Bellatrix shouted at him, her face turning a shade of red that rivaled a stop sign.
She violently shifted her head away, unable to maintain eye contact with his intense gaze.
"Yo—you shouldn't just casually flirt with me right now, y'know!" Bellatrix stammered, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "I—I'm way too emotionally vulnerable right now, and I am far too easy to fall for that kind of smooth talk…"
She forcefully retracted her hands from his warm grip, pulling them back to her chest. She immediately started preening her blonde hair again, hiding behind the golden strands.
"Idiot…" Bellatrix mumbled under her breath, though there was no real anger in the insult.
Max let out a deep, genuine laugh as he heard the familiar, flustered word "idiot." It was the exact same word Emhy used to use when she was overwhelmed by his affection.
"Hey, what I said just now is entirely true," Max said, his smile fading into a look of deadly serious protectiveness.
"Also," Max continued, his voice dropping into the cold, terrifying timber of the Reaper. "If those specific bullies ever dare to come near you again during this time… and if they try to sabotage this science tournament that you joined to ruin your long road to victory…"
He leaned closer to her ear.
"Don't worry for a second. I will hunt them down. I will kill them. And I will forcefully make them drink a gallon of molten iron just as I promised, right before I slowly gouge their eyes out for making you cry."
Bellatrix froze for a second, processing the incredibly graphic, dark promise of violence. Then, the sheer absurdity of a legendary hitman offering to murder her high school bullies over a science fair broke through her sadness.
She started to laugh. A loud, genuine, watery laugh echoed through the laboratory.
"Hahahaha! Really?" Bellatrix asked between giggles, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes.
"Yeah, really," Max confirmed, leaning back and offering her a warm smile. "So, now stop crying, alright? I promise to protect you, and I would gladly be by your side 24/7 as your bodyguard if you want me to. But for now… let's officially start the chemistry lesson, alright?"
Bellatrix looked at him, her gray eyes shining with a newly found confidence and a deep, unspoken gratitude. She wiped her cheeks one final time, grabbed her pen, and offered him a brilliant smile.
"Mhm!" she agreed happily, ready to get to work.