Prom night at Blackmoor Academy wasn't winding down—it was just getting weird.
After Stephen's failed glitter-bomb attempt and Jessa threatening to turn him into a glowstick (again), the music shifted into something slower. Dreamy. The enchanted roses overhead had begun to dim into twilight hues, casting romantic shadows across the ballroom floor.
Somewhere in the corner, an enchanted mop was slow-dancing with a broom, and no one had the heart to tell them to stop.
---
Romance, Secrets, and Stolen Moments
Hope had returned to the ballroom, cheeks still warm from the almost-kiss with London. As she stepped back onto the dance floor, she saw him across the room—his back straight, scanning the crowd like he was searching for her.
Their eyes met. And in that moment, it felt like the whole room melted away.
"May I have this dance?" he asked, bowing in an overly dramatic way that made her giggle.
"You may," she replied, curtsying in return.
As they danced, their fingers interlocked, and their eyes never left each other's.
"Do you think it's okay to be this happy?" Hope whispered.
London's gaze softened. "I think we've earned it."
He pulled her closer. "Even if it doesn't last… I want every second."
---
Celeste's Second Try
Near the refreshment table, Celeste took a deep breath, adjusting the lilac ribbon in her hair. She'd nearly given up on Daemon. But tonight felt… different. Softer.
She found him standing near the edge of the ballroom, brooding handsomely with a goblet of blood-orange fizz.
"I brought you this," she said, holding out a different drink—her favorite: enchanted strawberry nectar.
Daemon blinked. "Why?"
She sighed. "Because you've been drinking the same thing for an hour, and it's probably making you more grumpy than usual."
There was a pause.
Then—shockingly—he chuckled. A real, warm, barely-there laugh.
He took the drink.
She sat beside him on the velvet bench. "You ever think about your parents?"
His eyes darkened slightly, but he didn't turn away. "All the time. My mother was kind. My father was… a general. He taught me to survive. Not to feel."
Celeste said softly, "Then maybe tonight is a chance to feel."
He looked at her, and for a second—just a second—it wasn't her chasing him.
It was him reaching back.
---
Jessa and Raphael's Midnight Balcony Moment
Out on the opposite balcony, Jessa dragged Raphael away from the chaos and into the cool night air.
"I swear," she muttered, brushing pink glitter out of her hair, "if Stephen pulls one more weird stunt, I'm going to hex his eyebrows off."
Raphael laughed. "He means well. I think."
They leaned against the railing, shoulder to shoulder. Stars blinked overhead, and the air carried a gentle breeze filled with the scent of lilacs and old magic.
Jessa looked up at him. "I've spent so long guarding myself. Acting tough. But tonight…"
He looked down, eyes glowing gold in the moonlight. "Tonight?"
"I feel… safe with you."
His hand found hers. "You are."
She leaned up, brushing her lips against his cheek.
He froze. Then turned slowly.
And this time—they kissed.
No interruptions. No magic explosions. Just warmth.
---
Stephen's Last Straw
Inside the ballroom, Stephen was pacing like a caged tiger. He'd tried to expose Mr. Shawn with glitter bombs, memory jars, a pair of magical truth cupcakes (which he accidentally ate himself), and a talking parrot who just kept repeating, "YOU'RE LOSING IT, BRO."
Nothing worked.
Now he sat at the faculty table, sipping punch and muttering. "He made them forget Richard. He made me forget. He's messing with everyone's memories. But how?!"
That's when he saw it.
A group of students flipping through a dusty old Blackmoor Yearbook in the corner.
Stephen zoomed in like a heat-seeking missile.
"Hey—can I see that for a sec?"
They handed it over.
He flipped to the staff page.
And there—in every year—was a smiling picture of Mr. Shawn.
But… the background was different in each one. Different color robes. Different hair styles. In one photo, Mr. Shawn looked twenty years older.
"Photoshopped memories," Stephen whispered. "You sly son of a—"
Suddenly, a hand clapped onto his shoulder.
"Enjoying prom, Stephen?" Mr. Shawn's voice cooed behind him.
Stephen jumped. "Y-you!"
"You've been busy," Mr. Shawn said with a soft smile. "Always questioning, always doubting. You remind me of myself when I was younger."
"I doubt that," Stephen muttered.
"Perhaps." Mr. Shawn leaned in. "You'll forget about this conversation in five… four… three—"
"I HANDCUFFED US!" Stephen roared, pulling out enchanted handcuffs and snapping them between their wrists.
Mr. Shawn blinked.
"Now," Stephen grinned. "You can't run away until I figure out who you really are!"
But Mr. Shawn just looked amused.
"Oh, Stephen…" He whispered, "Remember."
And in a flash—the handcuffs were now attached to Stephen and… the wardrobe handles on the far side of the room.
Stephen blinked. "Wait—what—HEY!"
Mr. Shawn bowed slightly and walked away, whistling a romantic tune.
Stephen screamed in frustration. "WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?!"
One of the nearby enchanted brooms handed him a cupcake out of pity.
---
The Unexpected Jealous Stare
Meanwhile, as Hope and London swayed slowly across the ballroom floor, a pair of eyes watched them.
Not Celeste. Not Daemon.
It was Violet, the mysterious enchantress from the music club—one of the quietest students in Blackmoor. She stood in the shadows, her hands curled into fists.
"Of course she gets him," Violet muttered. "She always does."
She turned and vanished through the crowd like a whisper no one heard.
---
Mr. Shawn's Final Announcement
Near the end of the night, Mr. Shawn floated back onto the stage, arms wide.
"My beloved students," he declared, "tonight was not just about dancing. It was about connection. About healing. And about choosing love… even when it's hard to remember."
The crowd erupted in cheers.
"Oh—and I've canceled all homework for the week. You're welcome."
Even louder cheers.
As he descended from the stage, Mr. Shawn looked back one last time. His eyes twinkled.
"Now go. Dance. Laugh. Love. And remember me."
Stephen, still stuck to the wardrobe, yelled, "I AM REMEMBERING TOO MUCH, THANK YOU!"