By the time last period arrived, the tension between Lilith and Elias was thick enough to cut with a knife. The entire day had been an exhausting battle of avoidance and stolen glances, a silent war neither of them dared to acknowledge. And now, in the dimly lit Potions classroom, forced to sit beside each other once again, it all came to a boiling point.

Lilith set her bag down with more force than necessary, inhaling deeply before taking her seat. This is fine, she told herself. She was perfectly capable of pretending that Elias Thorne did not exist, even if his presence beside her was impossible to ignore.

Elias slid into his chair next to her, his sleeves still rolled up from earlier, and damn him for that because Lilith could not keep her eyes from flickering to his hands. The veins, the effortless strength in the way he handled his quill—absolutely insufferable.

"Alright, class," Professor Slughorn announced from the front of the room, rubbing his hands together. "Today, you'll be brewing Draught of Living Death. A complex potion, one that requires precision, patience, and above all—teamwork."

Lilith's stomach twisted. Teamwork. Of course.

She turned her head slightly to find Elias already smirking, a single brow quirked as if he had been waiting for this moment. "Try not to kill me, Nightingale," he drawled. "We both know you could."

Lilith shot him a glare, but even that felt weaker than usual. "I make no promises."

They began setting up their ingredients, the tension between them simmering beneath the surface. Lilith reached for the valerian root at the same time Elias did, their fingers brushing. She jerked her hand back instinctively, but not before she felt the warmth of his skin against hers. A simple touch, but one that sent an unwelcome jolt straight through her.

Elias didn't miss it. "Jumping at my touch now?" he murmured, voice lower than necessary. "Didn't take you for the nervous type."

Lilith inhaled sharply, keeping her eyes fixed on their cauldron. "I'm not," she said, willing her voice to remain steady. "I just don't want to catch whatever plague you undoubtedly carry."

Elias chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he added crushed sopophorous beans to their potion, effortlessly executing the crushing technique that made Lilith's stomach clench in frustration. Why did he have to be so irritatingly good at everything?

"Here," she muttered, thrusting a stirring rod at him, careful not to let her fingers brush his again. "Make yourself useful."

He took it with a smirk, but for once, didn't press further. Instead, he focused on the potion, stirring with a fluidity that suggested he had done this before.

Elias, however, was finding it equally difficult to ignore Lilith. He stole glances when she wasn't looking, admiring the way her brows furrowed in concentration, how she bit her lip ever so slightly when she was deep in thought. There was something endlessly fascinating about watching her work—how precise she was, how determined, how utterly unaware she was of the effect she had on him.

Minutes passed, the bubbling of the potion filling the charged silence between them. Every now and then, their shoulders would brush as they leaned over the cauldron at the same time, every small touch adding another layer to the unbearable tension.

Elias should have been focusing on the potion, but instead, he found himself distracted by the way Lilith tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the graceful way her fingers moved as she handled the ingredients. He hated that he noticed these things. Hated that he cared.

Lilith hated how aware she was of every single movement he made. The flex of his fingers, the shift of his jaw as he concentrated, the way his damn sleeves were still rolled up and exposing those forearms that had no right to be as distracting as they were.

She exhaled sharply, willing herself to focus.

Elias, of course, was enjoying every second of this. She could feel his amusement even without looking at him.

"You're tense," he observed, his voice quiet enough that only she could hear.

"I'm focused," she corrected through gritted teeth.

Elias leaned in just slightly, his breath ghosting against the shell of her ear. "You keep telling yourself that, Nightingale."

Her grip tightened around the stirring rod, resisting the urge to throw it at his head.

Elias knew he was playing with fire, but for some reason, he liked the way she bristled at his presence, the way she fought to remain composed when he knew she was anything but. He had spent years challenging her, pushing her buttons, but lately... it felt different. There was something unspoken between them, something lingering in the air, thick with the weight of everything they refused to acknowledge.

Lilith didn't trust herself to respond. Because if she did, she might just say something she wasn't ready to admit.

This class could not end soon enough.